Maybe A Not So Typical Thanksgiving Post

Clothes on the Line, Backyard

I don’t have a bed. I sleep on the floor every night. I do this by choice. It’s plenty soft, carpet, a big thick sleeping bag under me and plenty of puffy covers over me, layered. Each night, almost every night lately, I write a couple poems and rip the page from the notebook for safe keeping, then drift off to sleep.

During the day, each day, I manage to read about the object of my mind’s latest focus-labor relations, especially related to a historic moment that took place here in Goldfield between miners and employers in 1906/07. Teddy Roosevelt sent in troops to break the strike.

There’s a drawing of the men involved in that political skirmish that I’m working on for a magazine cover. The magazine is a poetry and prose based anarchist publication out of Houston Texas. It’s called Harbinger Asylum. I’m drawing these portraits in detail on a large birch wood panel. It will go on to have painting around it and many more faces, mostly characters related to the Goldfield historic experience. This will be the cover for the issue featuring the article I’m writing for them about the labor strike.

I’m painting on canvas again lately. I had sort of taken some time off from that to work on the car forest, burying cars, publicizing the place and getting ready for the big party, which turned out to be a small party back in August. Life just always gets in the way. Things have settled a bit and a few days ago I set up my little painting studio in my shower, since my bathroom is not workable. It’s a good quiet place and it’s easy to heat.

View From Our Front Porch

I love painting oils so much and I seem to forget just how much until I start doing it again. The older I get the more often I remember how much I’m in control of my life, but it’s always taking the first step that’s most important. Distractions are constant; edging them out is difficult.

Harmonica is a new endeavor for me, since Zak has moved here; singing too. There’s alot to learn in any art and it’s that learning that keeps me going.

Radio DJing is a performance for me. I get to explore music but also my own performance with voice and content. I have always loved doing interviews and it feels good to have myself involved with this community in this way.

Our House is The End of the World

A couple days ago, a folder full of quickly shot off images from my social media, i.e. Facebook days took me on a trip down memory lane. The dates on each image relayed the moments in my life that served as backdrop. It’s gets me back in the mindset of fishbowling and how it was an art of its own. Up to the minute content, distributed widely is something substantial and the amount of self exposure was something useful to explore. I must get back to fishbowling some day.

The cheap camera I now own was a trade. My offer was a router that a friend of mine needed for making picture frames and wood creations. It has afforded me another creative outlet that I’ve long been exploring and that is the capture of light, photography. Shacks and buildings and mountains and joshua trees have been the main event there. To say it’s beautiful here doesn’t nearly say it. There’s an essence to living here and the feedback from my blog site has been fun.

2007, Hotel El Cortez, the first year of NadaDada in my room, drawing on wood

Today is Thanksgiving and I’ve had my phone conversations with family back home. Soon I go back to our firehouse to help with preparations for the Thanksgiving feast where we’ll feed the town.

Mom, Dad, brothers, I love you. You must have done something right because for my life, the perspectives I’ve been privy to, I’m thankful for them. I feel like a well adjusted person. I’m thankful for my interesting friends; you’ve kept my life colorful.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

14 thoughts on “Maybe A Not So Typical Thanksgiving Post

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    1. yeah Cindy, nice to hear from you. hope all is well there too. that grandkid? Thomas? what’s he up to? how’s the homefront? makin’ art?

  1. Hey man! Shit this was great reading! I tell ya what. That’s the way to live, right there. Dream by day, paint, and write poetry by night. Sleeping on the floor – reminds me of my wild olden days! There is a certain nostalgia in what you’re doing here. Thought I’d let you know that I am loving the places my mind wonders when I read this!!

    How many women are brave enough to rough it without a bed? Seems to me you’d like something wild, effiminate, but not bull-dyke? Right? Maybe it’s just my mind, but seems to me that would make for some great times there. You got to be very creative about sex when there ain’t no bed.. It is a type of performance art. Ahhhhhh… but many women that I knew just don’t see it this way.

    So are you a poet? Pardon if I’m mistaken! Thought you were a visual artist with a dash of some performance art fetishes. What exactly are all your mediums?

    Shit! Chad Sorg, a poet? CHAD SORG POETRY!!? You have GOT to share some of your poetry man! Come on. Can we see?

    As for chopping wood, cutting down cabins and building up new ones, this is a great song to work to. Olden golden days! Ever heard this song?

      1. Holy white-KNUCKLE FUCK! Not sharing poetry? Man, you’re gonna leave me hanging in that kinda suspense dude?!
        btw, welcome for the song.

      2. wait, actually this one’s the roger episode, all roger miller all roger whittaker all the time. episode 26 perhaps. i’d like to illicit more song requests from people, maybe I wiill. although of Mondo i was thinking of playing the skater waltz.

      3. ill re read this tomorrow. These poppies r making me cross eyes. Ya put the song on Episde 26! Will have more for ya in the future. 😉

      4. I’m JD, a lonely, scared rancher. Pardon my over friendly comments. I’m gonna die alone out here… My wife recently took off on me.. Second marriage. The grief is pretty hard, some days. Help! DUDE FUCKING HELP! I can’t take this pain….. no one. anymore.

  2. You suggestin’ I write poetry? I know where it started. Burning Man. I was too sick to be with her this time so she went with friends… all downhill from there.

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