Hello

Okay, first posting, so some form of introduction and essential theme should be established. Bear with me, things can only get easier from here.

I am me. An entity of carbon and water, human by genetics, I live in the state of Vermont first and foremost and the united states by coincidence, I live in a barn, affectionately termed the outlaw barn (and somewhat correctly as, without an occupancy permit, occupation of which is technically illegal) and try to live up to the outlaw title. Not merely as a law breaker but as one who exists, as much as conveniently possible, independent of the rules applied to me by others; an attempt to govern oneself by moral alone. Not to be confused with anarchy, this is an entirely respectful mode of live-and-let-living. Those who desire the path be narrowed are more than welcome to do so, and may even tax and tame me when I choose to partake in their world, but the barn is mine to be me. To quote my man Tom Robbins,

"...I love the trite mythos of the outlaw. I love the self-conscios romanticism of the outlaw. I love the black wardrobe of the outlaw. I love the fey smile of the outlaw. I love the tequila of the outlaw and the beans of the outlaw. I love the way respectable men sneer and say 'outlaw'. The outlaw boat sails against the flow, and I love it. Outlaws toilet where badgers toilet, and I love it. All outlaws are photogenic, and I love that. 'When freedom is outlawed, only outlaws will be free', that's a graffito seen in Anacortes, and I love that. There are outlaw maps that lead to outlaw treasures, and I love those maps especially. Unwilling to wait for mankind to improve, the outlaw lives as if that day were here, and I love that most of all."

That being cleared up there's another driving force behind this. Perhaps the most important of all, setting aside for the moment my narcissistic tendencies. To tell the story. Which is to say I am not alone yet I am unique, and my story is worthy of telling. A small addition to the story of man, and equally insignificant. I refuse to yield the history of things to politicians and the wealthy. Consider this my autobiography, my footnote in history.
Or in the (much more eloquent) words of Will Saroyan,

"Think of America, I told myself this morning. The whole thing. the cities, all the houses, all the people, the coming and going, the coming of children, the going of them, the coming and going of men and death, and life, the movement, the talk, the sound of machinery, the oratory, think of the pain in America and the fear and the deep inward longing of all things alive in America, Remember the great machines, wheels turning, smoke and fire, the mines and the men working them, the noise, the confusion. Remember the newspapers and the moving picture theaters and everything that is a part of this life. Let this be your purpose: to suggest this great country.
Then turn to the specific, Go out to some single person and dwell with him within him, lovingly, seeking to understand the miracle of his being, and utter the truth of his existence and reveal the splendor of the mere fact of his being alive, and say it in great prose, simply, show that he is of the time, of the machines and the fire and smoke, the newspaper and the noise. Go with him to his secret and speak of it gently, showing that it is the secret of man Do not deceive. Do not make up lies for the sake of pleasing anyone. No one need be killed in your story. Simply relate what is the great event of all history, of all time, the humble, artless truth of all history, of all time, the humble, artless truth of mere being. There is no greater theme: no one need be violent to help you with your art. There is violence. Mention it of course when it is time to mention it. Mention the war. Mention all ugliness, all waste. Do even this lovingly. But emphasize the glorious truth of mere being. It is the major theme. You do not have to create a triumphant climax. The man you write of need not perform some heroic or monsterous deed in order to make your prose great. Let him do what he has always done, day in and day out, continuing to live. Let him walk and talk and think and sleep and dream and be alive. It is enough. There is nothing else to write about. You have never seen a short story in life. The short story or the form of the poem, or into another form. Your own consciousness is the only form you need Speak of this man, recognize his existence. Speak of man. "

Take this as my manifesto, a inkling of things to come.
I intend to post weekly, at least, and whimsically at best.
namaste