I don’t know how to build these things. But my wife exhorts me to build them and so I follow the aesthetic line where it takes me. If not the Devil, then why not let it be my beloved wife’s fancy that leads me around through this garden of our making. It’s a good Sky Farm Red we’ve built; chickens, dogs, cats, birds, turtles, bees, daughters and all. It’s a good damned life all around!

And then we went to the fine, silken underbelly of culture…..

With the one gone and its mate hanging like an old Texaco sign that migrates in the void toward the center of the mouth, the hill billy is strong in my daughter. Yes, the milk teeth are retreating. Sophistication begins its early adavance. And it positively kills me to see her grow so huge before my eyes. The lisp leaves with my wits and I’m left to sit, again, in awe. The Loren Hutton rears its head in her, in all its finess. But there’s a promise of orthadontics there too. How old and glad and grand will she be before I glimpse her with a pearly row again, my sweet babe advancing in age.

Meet one very profound dude. It’s no wonder he’s so tight with Yarg. They have deep roots, go way, way back.

Here’s a new show I’m directing.

Yarg’s a terrific character, really drills his guests to get the most out of them. We’re having a shit load of fun. There are such things to witness on this earth! O, the vastness of it to plumb. May as well start in Pamona…..