tracks

Hit the Trail
Beets, Potatoes and Spinach
Going, Going Gone
A Bill in The Woods
Bufalo Tales from a Mason Jar
Whipper Schnapper Blues
Laymans' Lament in the Desert
Muleskinner Moves to Iowa
It Was Obvious
A Bottle And A Book
Jack And Bill Come Down From The Mountain
The Muckraker Leaves Town

notes

Billy was riding his bike. He was taking his favorite route from his barn home to visit his friend who was throwing a Werner Herzog film festival in his shed in the back part of his farm. He noted with disappointment that the county now posted signs on the trail. “Making the trail public? Oh crap!” he thought. He knew it would only lead to more people, more bureaucrats and more problemic rules and regulations.
“Only a ways further.” he thought as he was cruising down the steep ascent part of the trail.
Just as he was about to veer left a deer darted in front of his path forcing him to make a sharp right turn. His bike struck a log covered in moss and Billy went flying head first into the ditch. Making a less than soft landing he lost consciousness. In his mind a jovial voice welcomed him. He dreamt that he saw two figures in the distance; one was talking, the other listening. Billy overheard the talk of getting money, either by stealing it or swindling people out of it. Strangely these people seemed to fade away and out of the woods popped a spindly old timer wearing a funny hat and talking with a wisp as if he had no teeth. The feller approached him said “HI!” and then ran back into the woods because he being chased by a Native American dressed in a business suit and wearing a stovepipe hat. Before his next breath Billy then saw two other shady looking characters walking by, one pulling a mule and complaining about a shopping list the other had made and the other one saying he wanted to move to Iowa because there was no elbow room here anymore.
After that they came from all sides of the woods, con men being chased by an angry mob, what looked like a politician wearing a badge that stated “Muck” walking dejectedly away, a musician playing a guitar and singing blues music and finally a group of Inca Indians being pestered by a Spanish monk who was pestering them to touch the wooden cross he carried in one hand and have a drink of the wooden mug of beer he had in his other hand.
Luckily the cold rain that started awoke Billy from his Dali esque dream. Picking up his bike and bending the wheel back into shape he hopped back on and rode onward to the film festival.

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