Night writers Lament: In reference to a song heard long ago sung by Jerry Jeff Walker. Sometimes when you are up at night because you can't sleep for some reason or other and you some times wonder what is up with that and by the time you figure out that you should really get back to sleep, well it is then that your "other" mind engages and runs you down a rabbit hole, and then, then, well, Alice has you then, now doesn't she? And that rabbit hole turns into a warren, which is a part of a family of warrens, all of which belong to a village of families of warrens, attached to the city make up of the villages of families. if you make it to a hole at the edge of the city of villages of families of warrens of holes of individual rabbits, you may see the roads that lead to ..................There are stories, but most of us don't really believe them. Not in their entirety anyway, if course, there is always a grain of truth in even a lie, right? At the very least, you are reminded that once outside the mind shaft, all things are possible. All THINGS are possible. So here's the aforementioned song: Night RIDERS Lament. As I was out there a ridin' The graveyard shift from darkness til dawn, Well the moon was as bright as A readin' light For a letter from an old friend back home. And he asked me "Why do you ride for your money? Tell me why do you rope for short pay? You ain't gettin' no where and your'e loosing your share, Hoss, you shore must be crazy out there. He said "Last night I run onto Jenny She's married and has a good life, Hoss you shore missed the trak when you let 'er ome back She's the perfect professionals wife. And she asks me, "Now why does he ride for his money? Why does he rope for short pay? He ain't gettin' nowhere, and he's loosin' his share, Well, he must just be crazy out there." But you know, they've never seen the northern lights, And they've seen a hawk on the wing, They ain't never seen the spring hit the great divide, And they've never heard ole camp cookie sing. Well I read up the last of my letter, and tore off the stamp for Black Jim, And Billy rode up to relieve me, He just looked at my letter and grinned. and he asked me, "Why do they ride for their money? Tell me why do they rope for short pay? Thay ain't gettin' nowhere, and there loosin their hair, Well they all must be crazy back there, CAuse you know, they've never seen the northern lights, And they've seen a hawk on the wing, They ain't never seen the spring hit the great divide, And they've never heard ole camp cookie sing. --------------------------------------------------------

And now for a rant: I have been noticing, as y'all probably have, the troubles around the globe--Ukraine, Syria and Iraq, Somalia, Libya, Sudan and South Sudan, Guatemala, Venezuela, China and the South China sea nations, Israel and Palestine, etc, etc, etc. Troubles between tribes, areas, ideologies, nations, governments and governmental leaders. But, for the most part, not between people. Peoples, yes; people, no. And, it seems to me, the de facto common denominator is the lack of freedom in all these places, ideologies, and leaders. Is the wine of freedom so sweet, that it is cloying to those who lack it? Is the taste of control uncontrollable once introduced to the palate? Just saying.

OK. Trying to get back into this thing. And into my fiction writing more seriously. Weird, but it seems to be easier to write philosophy than this. Or fiction. But isn't philosophy fiction? Just more personal, maybe. And it is all creative writing. Unless you are copying something, all is creative.