novel idea

I was going to start by saying that winter is almost upon us in Wyoming, but it’d be a bald faced lie.
The snow has been yo-yoing worse than a cheap whore lately and it’s hard to plan for weather that can’t decide what the fuck it’s doing, but welcome to the West. It feels strange that we’ve already been living here for nearly three months.


I’ve applied for some hours at an equestrian centre that I’m hoping to hear from this week, and I really hope I can get some barn chore hours during the weekend. I’m made for tough graft not so much office lazing, I detest being kept inside and staring a screen for 80% of my week. Unfortunately I had to give up my little job at the antique place because I won’t be around in the holiday season and I can’t really be depended to work every weekend where I have to interact with people professionally.  A horse place I can handle, because I figure they’ll be more like me here… with any luck.  Its not a huge loss because it wasn’t supposed to be a long term thing, i only wanted a bit of income until i found something full time.


I’ve also been spending a lot of time working on my novel that I was supposed to try and finish this year, but I ended up falling a little behind. Right now I’m scouting around for possible literary agents that might enjoy my work but that’s slightly tedious as I know what I write is very good, but I don’t know that an agent will but I suppose we’ll see what it brings. I realize I’ll be facing a shite tone of rejections and it can take years before books get published, but all the more time to improve I suppose. Lately I’ve just been feeling the inspiration I was been lacking in New England so my fingers are truly growing numb with considering how much write  (hand write + type) when I should be working. I do my job but when there’s nothing else on my agenda I will write. Some days, much like today, I had nothing to do and wrote from 8am till around 4.30pm or whenever I’ll finish revising this blog draft. And realized something, something it’s taken years for me to realize. I am born to tell stories; whether it is on stage with an audience or whether it is through poetry and prose. It doesn’t matter. I have often imagined the life of a writer and what it’s like. The more I write and force myself to make time for it the more I realize that that’s for the life of me. I can be anywhere in the world and I can tell a story. Every day around 8:30am I do my writing exercise and each becomes a beautiful little prose of unimpeded emotion that needed to be filtered from my heart in order to make more progress with the main works. I’ve actually been toying with the idea of creating a little book of all my small exercise pieces, however as you can imagine I have many ideas in the works as I always am apt and so nothing will probably become of any. That’s fine, at least I bled to try.

I don’t know what the future will bring, and I don’t know that right now that’s so very important to me – what’s important is what we’re doing now. Planning trips to deadwood, guest ranches, Denmark and planning weekends at home with pizza, historical documentaries and picture editing. Don’t get me wrong I have an outline of things I’d like to do. Hopefully I’ll be taking a class at the University and in the spring I’ll be applying to attend the school of horseshoeing in Cheyenne. I genuinely hope this can come to fruition but it depends a lot on saving up the funds in time. I don’t even know that I’ll be good at it, but I want to give it a try as I’ve done everything else that interested me up till now. So I’m not about to stop learning and doing new things.  Besides I’m still holding on to that dream of my own farm with a horse shoeing station in the barn and a view of Nevada or Texas or even Wyoming outside the rolling door. Its right there next to the tall ship dream but whichever one comes is more than welcome, but for right now I’m living the cowboy life and it mostly feels like a dream.

I think for now that’s enough from me.

our first month

We’ve officially been here a month as of last week, and it’s already been one hell of a ride.
It’s been wonderful. Scary. Stressful x 10. Hard. Exhausting. But we’re here and we’re making it work. Many things have  happened already.
So in it’s honour — the anniversary of yet another big adventure —  here is a minefield of pictures from our first month back in the West.















the things i’ll do

♡ I plan to go to the school of horse shoeing. Even though it’ll beat the shit outta my back i plan to shoe draft horses during that time as well — i have a huge love for drafts but being as small as i am it’d be one huge challenge that could push me to whatever limits i have. Im sure i got them some place.
♡ Photograph wild horses. Since i was a child i always wanted to see wild horses and after getting my first cameras and so forth, it became a dream to photograph them. And i dont mean bringing a bag of carrots and getting bombarded with up close and personal experience. I mean… photographing their way of life, their herd, the relationships and just their mysticism. In Europe you could only imagine what an American Mustang must truly be like.
♡ Volunteer at an equine therapy stable and also start consistent riding lessons.
♡ My etsy will be up and running with any luck, and i’ll hopefully be able to sell some of my sweaters and maybe some more artwork too. Not a big deal but a fun little experiment.
♡ Visiting all the railroad museums and any other museum we can possibly find!
♡ Go to fucking Deadwood and stay in to Bullock hotel.
♡ Sit out in our yard and do absolutely nothing but dream about writing and then take notes whilst sipping sun brewed iced tea.
♡ I plan to become a damn expert at using my vintage film cameras if it kills me. It’s such a satisfying experience to use cameras the old fashioned way.
♡ To write even more than i am now and keep up my exercises as close to every day as possible. Finish a book or two and get that publishing going.
♡ Create more short films … WITH dialogue and start an old west podcast.
♡ Get my god damn drivers license.

the day i met Crazy Horse’ Elder, Wopila !

It’s not everyday that something extraordinary happens like a flash, so quick you almost don’t believe it. It’s not even in every life time that you can strike gold, but my gold mines are starting to tally and i’m worried i’m running out whatever the hell luck i’m living on — because i keep living these dreams i never thought could be possible. And i am beholden…. shy of bound, to whatever man makes the god damn rules in this place.
In an afternoon, i was moved. I was changed in some profound and sagacious way that i can’t quite put my finger on what the fuck happened to me in those moments.
My mind a little deeper and much richer than it was last week.
I wanted to write this post the other night but my website is as temperamental as a she-bear. Therefore, tonight is the night now that i have a moment that is all mine. After all — they say that words mean more at night and will send you dreaming.
A few weeks ago an event popped into a feed and a plan was made. Simple as that. No great sign or path.
I’d tried to talk myself out of going just because it was effort and i don’t like interacting with people, but this was a bucket list item — something i’d only dreamed of since i was still young enough to believe in happy endings. And Jack, the golden boy that is — wouldn’t let me back out.
The event was a meet/greet/book signing with Crazy Horse’ Elder, and the author of the families book — Bill Matson. I’ve never attended anything of this kind before, i always thought it was somewhat awkward and not my scene. I figured it was mostly just something that was done in movies or for weird die hard fans like…twilight geeks etc.
Having said that — i was wrong.
I reckon i was just waiting for the right time and it found me,  in the dying summer of New England 2019. What are the odds.
I’ve always been very aware that indigenous people in films, books, media and history were “whitewashed” and “europeanised.” Which is a damn shame and unnecessary.
Rarely have they been given the chance to openly portray their truth or even speak it. And that was why i desperately wanted to hear the sore and exposed truth of their culture. Thats what he gave to me, the difference between truth and assumptions. A lot of what is thought to be fact — is an assumption about the Red Nation and many other parts of life. It was beautiful and meaningful to hear it from him — his truths, his stories, all about his blood-tree … rather than from a book that has rolled through editors where stories were changed and translations crapped over like yesterdays newspaper.
So i’m very very excited to read the book of their family.
I’m excited to read Matson’s words and  learn more about the true Crazy Horse and their lives since.
The meeting was raw. It was strong. Nerve wracking. But utterly and finally, it was magnificent. Even though the audience members made me kinda embarrassed to be white due to their weird inane questions and stereotypical thought processes. They asked about finding “medicine men on facebook,” were surprised “Indians were so nice”  and i could honestly go on. But i choose to remember the experience in a way Bearheart  taught me to. Find the positive and learn the lesson.
I realise i haven’t talked about it in too much depth but i fear it would ruin my experience for me, just like pulling your camera out in a beautiful moment and living through the lens instead of being truly present.
So this is all i’ve leave you with.
Speak truth, don’t assume and tell the story how it happened without modern embellishments (fiction writers excluded).




trading with a friend

It was just another slow Sunday today but laced in a cool breeze, giving us a much needed break from the humidity. Thank goodness. I don’t have a lot i want to write about, but i felt like writing a short post about a regular day for me — because i don’t usually do that. So — here’s to trying something new ! Currently i’m doing a knitting trade with a good friend of mine. I’m knitting her a sweater with cotton yarn and in exchange i get one or two of her beautiful scarves. I’ve never done anything like this before so i’m pretty excited about the process. (I also get to write a letter and send it snail mail style — which is something i really love to do) Old style mail is like poetry these days. I don’t often use patterns, if at all. I make it all up as i go and see how it turns out. I never make the same thing twice — even if i’m trying to knit a pair of socks, fucking bastard socks. I get heated just thinking about having to knit two of something it SUCKS.

My day pretty much consisted of your regular dreading of Monday morning, eating bacon, jerky and hyping myself up for a new big challenge. As most of you can probably tell i suffer from a pretty crippling mindset of self hatred and body dysmorphia —  lace all that bullhickey in with deadening depression and you have the wonderfully witty  genius you see before you.  The funniest kid any side of the Mississipi. Artists and comedians suffer greatly for their craft; and fuck i’ve suffered like a son of a bitch. That’s right folks, not even i am at all perfect as social media might portray. I am in fact flawed like an old piss sodden boot with a hole in the toe, and i wouldn’t change much about it. Perfection is terribly over rated.
Anyway, my point is that i’m working on changing my cognitive thinking. Don’t get me wrong, i love a bit of depression here and there because its how i write the way i do.
I can write some beautifully haunting scenarios like no other, terrible stories and cruel characters, that though they may not be entirely good — they’ll be remembered; but its time  for me to change a little too. I’m smart enough to realise that. Because if you’re not working on yourself, where are you going and how can you grow? Also, i can’t expect my characters to change — if i don’t.


I’ve been working out on a consistent basis for over a year now and attempting (and failing), to change my eating habits. DING DING. But thats the next goal. To stop eating what i know fuels my depression like fuel on a fire pit. And its only a habit that needs breaking, because i don’t enjoy when i eat those foods — but i do it out of the comforting habit drowning in sugar like babies suckling tit milk.
Today isn’t really the first day of me working on this, by no means but today is yet another day where i’ll start the intermittent fasting and try a new method of thinking of food by not canceling out everything i love, but changing how much and when i have it. Good luck to me, after all… if you don’t like something change it.

Fear not! My blog is not becoming a fitness blog full of air filled muscles, booty photos and starved selfies. No ma’am. But fitness has become a bigger part of my life this year and i’m loving it because i can physically and mentally feel the changes. If i’m sad about something, i’ll take a run, a walk or get under the weights. Recently i’ve been pretty low because i’ve been homesick after watching particular television shows, another terrible trigger that can send me in to a cave macabre thoughts for weeks. Homesickness is a cruelty i would only wish on about 30 people that i believe deserve to feel something other than falsely placed superiority.


And thats all my Sunday consisted of. Settling things in my mind and figuring out the next step. Here’s to new horizons, opportunities and futures looming. Tell me about your Sunday and something you’d like to change.

Happy Sunday Night and have a grand following week.

Also — if you’re interested in the knitting my friend does here is a link to her facebook page here.