I am the Lonesome Cowboy, drifting from one dream to another, unseen, unheard, but still prepared. My shirts are pressed, my trousers sharply creased, in tall, well-polished boots, and never without sparkling spurs, or Ed, my sock puppet, who keeps me company through every long, cold night.
I am the Lonesome Cowboy, drifting the vacant prairies, a half-dry Sharpie and rusty mind for companions, scratching pointless haiku on bent fence posts. Amen.
I am the lonesome Cowboy, harboring many regrets for a life poorly-lived, choked with regrets since I have known no one, have done nothing, and have never had the chance to make ordinary mistakes in love or life other than that escaped fart at that one funeral last week.
I am the lonesome Cowboy, just sitting here with Lint, my pocket pet, having a quiet, private conversation about the meaning of life, and what kind of fuzz it's best to be, if that's all you can be, and have no friends anyway.
I am the Lonesome Cowboy, reclining in place, content for now, tootling by tooty flute, waiting for something unfortunate to occur, as it always does. As it always does.
I am the Lonesome Cowboy, riding my unicycle through desert washes and slot canyons, looking for lost change. It's a tedious and slow way to earn a living, prone to endless days of hopeless pedaling, but it suits me just fine, and no one ever asks me why I'm not a barber.
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff+snorp@gmail.com
Me? Lost my pet noodle. Dang.
Etc...
so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction
definitions: outdoor terms
fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves
boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks
snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity
last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer
noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals
