there are things that I should do
there are things I shouldn’t do…
there are things I will do.
there are things that I wont do.
there are things I want to do.
there are things I dont want to do.
there are things I do do .
there are things I’ve done that every thing else follows respectively.
in my time there has been a life of creativity.
I owe it all to some one ,all of them,for allowing me the freedom to create.
......ambrose .......in deepest gratitude and debt
ambrose said do-do
You and I and all of us are in the throes of being endlessly created. Sometimes we are aware of it. Sometimes we are realizing it. The shaper’s planer hovers over us all, reflected in the infinite mirrors of what we create.
Whoops, wrong Ambrose thread…
I always liked the way that Hipshot thanked the Creator, in the comic strip - by Stan Lynde.
Or how I was taught by that “quantum leaper” man. “Thanks to that who moves, moves…”
Do you catch yourself looking up from time to time, hoping to get a glimpse of the planer above you? And if you did see, would you flinch, run away, hunker down, or stretch up and take the shave?
how about a picture with that.
Do you catch yourself looking up from time to time, hoping to get a glimpse of the planer above you? And if you did see, would you flinch, run away, hunker down, or stretch up and take the shave?
Taking some pretty deep cuts these days!!
Hurts like hell…
Know the feeling. But the view afterward is wider, deeper, clearer, higher, while waiting for the next cut. Ahh, to be planed down to the mystical zero.
You just gotta see what Ambrose has been shaping these days. Keep bugging him for pictures.
And someday we will all meet in the Crystal Pistol Saloon in the town of Conniption and thank the creator ourselves. Rick O’Shay and Hipshot Percussion will say howdy. Meanwhile, this weekend, a Swaylockian meet in the park will do, and we will create moments to treasure. Even for those who cannot be there in body, you will be in spirit, and will be warmed by the fire.
And someday we will all meet in the Crystal Pistol Saloon in the town of Conniption and thank the creator ourselves
As I recall, on occasion Hipshot would ride out of town to thank the Creator. Christmas Eve? Candles in church or stars in the sky…both can work. The Old West is American mythology. It fades as technological change relentlessly escalates. No telling if the two are related.
"Riding the range and acting strange
is where I want to be"
Drugs are so lame.
That’s my final answer…
All you guys who post with snide references to drugs or juice are yanking the tail of a dragon, and what the hell are YOU doing down in that dark cave?
Speaking of caves, here’s an example of something that today is inappropriate but that helped us survive those cold winter nights - on the timeline, if you’re a buff of history, was right before the huddled mass crawled out of those caves. Question; if you were a lone Saber Tooth looking to get an easy kill would you venture into a dark cave full of loudly SNORING creatures? Not me, dude.
Next time you’re out in nature, riding the plains, and God breathes YOU a liquid cathedral will you give thanks with a smile and a nod of your head to the creator or will you grab your balls, jump up and down and yell like a sick little monkey? Feel lucky, punk?
This post is the most important one yet, and we aren’t even at the seventh inning stretch. So don’t go limp on us now. Do you find it STRANGE that some old men would care that the path that you take is like traveling through space on the wings of a butterfly?
I’ve got to admit the dragon does look faster. But when you’re riding on the back just pray that he’s not a fire breather cause you’ll be vaporized. Then us old guys will gather around as they say those magic words… ashes to ashes and dust to dust. And our only option then is to refill the sea with our grief.
Which? One who turns their back, one who forbids or one who monitors with understanding - there’s no easy answer… damned if you do and damned if you don’t.
If I was a Spin Priest like Ambrose I would of said the same thing. BUT I’m a Spin Shaman, and I’ve got to roll the bones, put on my crazy outfit to focus your attention and act real strange but with purpose, cause my message is a rattle in your brain that you can’t escape and for sure my principles are certain.
I’m spent, think I’ll crawl back in that cave…
At dawn there was a giant cloud over oahu
the wind was at 100 degrees and doin 10 knots
from waipouli it looked dark over there
it looked like it might come this way
I thought will it rain ,will it end the weather
now after folding some dishtowels
and sweeping the kitchen floor with a new broom
gave my self a haircut
the wind has dropped and the birds are calling
now a shower and look at the waves
and decide how to proceed
…ambrose… swaylocks,drug of choice…who needs chocolate
someone walked in yesterday with a 64 Hickey…
big black fin with wide point almost at the front edge.
Thick volan on both side, probably 9’6" to 10’ long
amazing shape for 31 years old, better than me…
Sittin’ around the cracker barrel, along the saloon rail, on horseback on the range, on a surfboard way outside, and back on down in the tunnel of time to the gathering around the first campfire that cooked the meat, meant safety, meant time to ponder more than the immediate moment, respite so humans could begin to think about shaping the future. You bet it’s all related.
Sittin’ around the cracker barrel, along the saloon rail, on horseback on the range, on a surfboard way outside, and back on down in the tunnel of time to the gathering around the first campfire that cooked the meat, meant safety, meant time to ponder more than the immediate moment, respite so humans could begin to think about shaping the future
Yes, funny how it goes…caveman discovers fire, picks up rocks and sticks as weapon and tool; various Euro evolutions; Vikings mutate from fearsome warriors to merchant politicians; Native Americans adopt the horse; mountain men, trappers, cowboys, settlers in the western migration in the U.S. taking off to points off the map with little more than firearms and knives, adopting repeating rifles and six shooters…enthusiastically accepting technological innovation with obvious benefits to the way they live!
One could argue the Industrial Revolution starting taking the thrill downhill. The Technology Revolution began cycling through new innovations so fast that perspective can get lost as the mind wearies from the upheaval. My oldest neice turned 18 yesterday, thrilled with the ipod experience. At dinner with the family we started talking about the next thing, what will make the DVD, Cd, ipod obsolete…she was aghast at the notion that everything she was spending money on now might/can/will join the VHS, cassette, reel-to-reel, 33, 45, 78 media mediums gathering dust and scorn. One could argue that much of the most obvious cutting edge of technology is not related to survival, and therefore not necessary. In the Abercrombie and Bitch advertising world, surface depth only, the poor cowboy is as low tech as it can get. Not so much.
However, I was aghast to find out from my neice that girls don’t have to register with the Selective Service Administration. She looked at me like I was out of my mind. Let’s hope so.
Certainly a lot of the luxury items, i.e. non-survival, we use today are byproducts of technologies that have been developed for survival needs. I don’t need to name them. You know what I mean. Something about making lemonade from lemons comes to mind.
Selective Service, now there’s a bad memory, speaking of survival needs. Women registering for the draft seems to go against the age-old survival wisdom that any civilization that does not protect its women and offspring is headed for extinction. Unless, of course, we evolve beyond the need for two genders to procreate, which is one advancement I would sorely decry.
And there we are back to the creation theme again. Sounds like a good weekend plan.
Aloha Friday.
Tripod the three legged dog watched sadly in resignation as the muscular stud mongrel gleefully hiked his leg on the fireplug in his true love’s yard.
bitchin thread. I understand better now. Japanese sandpaper is the kind.
Thanks for rounding the corners.
…and things I’ll never do again.