calamity B

I never thought that life could be beautiful. I didn’t think any good things were meant for me aside from giving people laughs at a night show, with me slipping out the back door before anyone could catch me in the light. What i thought doesn’t matter, what matters is that i admit that i was wrong. And i do. I admit. Hellfire and broken arms — i admit it.
I didn’t get where i am by luck. I gave in every time life got hard and i cried and i bled and i died over and over and over again, but i still went on with all those cigarette burns and piss sodden pants i was locked away for. I always said what if? I never believed a single dream to be too stupid to try.  And thats how i ended up in the BlackHills on a god damn stagecoach with the love of my life. Pulled by a sweet pair of Haflingers called Tuff and Tea.
If i had given up all those times that i thought the world did not belong to me, well i’ll go on and say what you’re not supposed to, the world would’ve been mighty poor with me six feet deep. A lot of kids in bad schools would’ve had to take their own beatings, cause i wouldn’t have been there to stand in for ’em while they ran to some place safe.
I’m good at a lot of things, and i’m bad at a couple, but lately i’ve been trying real hard to find out what it is to be me and living on every edge of the American frontier. Only now, the first day of the rest of my tomorrows, do i know that i’ll do it all. Eventually

There’ll be no choosing this over that, calling her over him or giving up that to live like this. I can’t be one thing, i’ve tried and in my heart it don’t make no sense.
I wasn’t born for that. I’ll be the artist my mother is, the musician my father is and i’ll be the parent my stepfather showed me — the heart that a man could be.
If those days come my way. I’ll write, i’ll be the runner i wanted to be, i’ll feel it all a little harder than most but thats how you get me. I live through all those pains, bad eggs and rotten boys so others can read about it in their sun room with a cup of tea, from a dusty porch with a bloodhound at their knee or simply for myself. I sit here and i write for all of you, but the most important of my writing is that every word, letter, broken heart and bloody gape its all for me. To keep on living through hell to see the sunset in Texas. To see it all. And maybe one day, when it’s time to die, i’ll be able smile at myself and say, “holy shit, you did it. You did it all. And yet still, you’ll never find sweet tea in South Dakota girl. Thank hell for that.”

So when you think that bad thought about giving in, or letting her walk all over you or whatever the hell pain you see yourself in. Turn the fuck around and go a different way. Get out of that sad bad marriage, let go of that ugly feeling you get when you look at yourself. Flush it out like Sundays Curry and move the hell on with your life. If this cynical bastard before you can do that — there ain’t nobody who can’t. Be you. Be selfish. Be good. Be human. So you did a few bad things — its ok they’re only mistakes. And help change the world.

Where words fail.
Words fail.

the big horns



I believe that the world owes nothing. No debt to pay or government to over throw. The earth will keep on keeping on long after I’ve kicked the bucket. Same as you. The big horn mountains will still stand. The ridges may be different, but they’ll be there. Out by a fire in the middle of no place where the space is vast and full of opportunity. That’s where I go. When I’m done I move on. Carrying what little I have to my chest close as kittens. Mostly photographs, writing, old books handed to me by my grandfather and that’s all — aside from memories.
I live in my own world, because that’s where its safe. Everyone is equal there and left to themselves. It’s quiet. Smells nice to boot. Fresh grass along the streams. The desert has its time to sing. There’s nothing to worry on, except what I concoct over a fire after midnight myself. But its free. I am grateful for my chance. I don’t rub it nowhere. I don’t regret. I don’t forget. I belong where the western winds blow. I belong under the skies so deep and clear that I could paint my hearts true conviction for beating.
And all this time I’ve wondered why I wasn’t like everyone else. Why I carry a burden the way I do and now I know. It is those who suffer and keep suffering that will always, somehow, find a way to survive. Then one day, when I’m old and dying by my fire, perhaps some young good looking kids will sit by me and ask. “You’re a long way from home ma’am. How did you come to America all those years ago?” And I’ll look into my fire and smile.

side tracked

I haven’t been side tracked, but the blog has been put on the proverbial burner — something you probably figured considering i neglected to write for over a month.
As of late everything has been slowly falling into place. Most of my days i spend writing. Last week i managed to get through the parts of my novel that were a mystery to me for so long and had proven bothersome —  now i’m on the home stretch.  I can see the end and i’m full of beans, high as a kite, bright eyed and bushy tailed, whatever it is positive people spout when life gives them a break in the dark.
When i haven’t been writing and working 8 to 5, we’ve been enjoying having our evenings + weekends back now that i finished drivers ed. Thus far we’ve been knocking things off our to-do list consistently since we’ve arrived in Wyoming.  This weekend we’ve been out mustang chasing, photographing and caring for a wounded bird that curled up by our back door Saturday morning.  The bird issue was NOT on my list however– surprisingly  when we took it to the vet they refused to help us and animal control/wildlife centers are closed during weekends. Thus it fell to us to put the birds leg into a splint with antibiotics, and it seems to be much better this morning. With any luck it’ll have wind beneath its wings as soon as possible. Hopefully we can keep it comfortable as possible without stressing the shit out of it.
Anyway I guess you can assume that life is pretty great, or gone to all kinds of hell, when i’m not blogging. Nevertheless  i should attempt to remember to write when things go well, and not just when i’m in the mood for an unmerciful diatribe at the expense of some ignorant fool who was brave enough to cross me.

But i digress and this blogpost is finished.

Adieu.

In a desert amongst the American mustangs with my books on my mind, and food.

something you’d rather be doing

I’ll be working 5 days a week from now on, as my job offered me a second position in the same office. I don’t mind it much, i’m grateful — sure, but there’s always something you’d rather be doing. Truthfully i’m not much built for office work and having a boss, but alas — one must hustle to get the golden egg. I just know i need to sleep. Where its good and safe. Away from the screaming. The holy terrors and bad ideas. Christ i wish i could sleep.


Recently i disappeared. I turned off all my social media. It was starting to stress the hell outta me, and when it starts doing that it sure as shit isn’t worth it anymore. I’m not the kind of person who wants to chase social media like a butterfly chases the last of the dying flowers in the autumn. No sir, i sure ain’t ! I don’t care. I simply just don’t care enough to show my whole life on the internet and i shan’t apologise for that. It’s not what i’m about. So i turned off instagram which in turn lost me followers — so what? Instagram reminds me a lot of past clingy relationships, so in much the same case; good riddance ! I turned off facebook apart from the few conversations i keep with my family in Denmark so they know i’m not dead. I haven’t made another vlog either, as i’m sure a few of you have noticed, and i’ve been meaning to. I have it planned out though, but finding the time is the kicker with how much of it i don’t have. The thing is that i can’t predict when i’m going to get inspired. I don’t know when i’ll get a wild hair up my arse and want to create or write.
Unfortunately i didn’t get round to working on my western either, its crazy how time slips away when you’re living in the wrong place or living for one goal and then in turn end up missing another. Well, i guess i also LET it slip away a little. The snow is long gone now though and i haven’t even scratched the surface really. So for now we write, we plan and we choreograph. And if it ends up being filmed in the desert? I’ll be pleased as punch. Boy, what a dream. To sit in a run down telegraph house writing  about the Outlaw and the Ranger, as the Texas desert burns like a son of bitch outside, where the town isn’t big enough for me and Josie-Moe to be on the same street without getting into some kind of fight about stockings or the newest hairstyles, that i secretly don’t care about but i love the argument just the same.

Coming to America

It may have take me a while — but here is my second vlog !
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