A recurring theme in the lives of many of my friends is that of uncertainty. Uncertainty about what it is we want to be doing with our lives. We are a creative bunch. Most of us have jobs that, at the very least, pay the bills. None of us, none that I can think of, love our jobs. There may be one or two of us who have a job that we believe matters – that the work we do contributes to society and that we are doing important work.

But, for the most part, we all merely tolerate our jobs. None of us are doing something for money that we love. And that breeds resentment. Resentment of our situations, and, on an inherent level, of ourselves. We resent that we are forced to work forty or more hours a week for someone else. We want to be creating art, or music, to be living and experiencing life instead of merely existing within it.

And we do create, but not nearly as prolifically as we would like. We drink to escape the disconnect we feel within ourselves. And I want to go one further, and say that the disconnect is much deeper, and that it is a disconnect from our own wild nature.

We are animals, we are wild beings. We are hardwired for wildness, even someone who has never left the city, even that person longs to be connected with nature in some fashion, because we are a part of nature. We were not meant to slave away for hours a day in a cubicle in front of a computer. We were meant to be outside, and because of that, our ancestors lived off the land, planted gardens from which they got their food, raised cattle from which they gained their sustenance. We are so disconnected from that, believing our food to come from Acme, or Safeway, or Albertsons, wrapped in Styrofoam and plastic. We put faux natural products into our bodies further removing us from our wild nature.

I am not romanticizing the lifestyle of people who came before us. I understand that working off the land is hard, but I believe that those folks had a better connection with the land, with nature, with themselves, and with their true wild nature.

I feel this everyday in my life, and am trying to pay attention to the occurrences of wildness in my daily experience. Even if it is something as simple as stopping on the way to work to smell the lilacs in bloom, something as simple as stopping for fifteen seconds to soak up the sunshine, warm on my face. Sometimes simply being aware of the wild nature we all have is a step closer to reconnecting with that wild nature.

I am much less articulate about this subject than is Becca.

IM Transcript

Ninja with Mad Skilz:
it’s quite a morning you’ve had, mr. man
secret agent man:
i can’t talk right now. I am busy mobilizing troops to attack Madagascar
secret agent man:
They have violated international environmental laws, killing off a rare species of fruit fly
secret agent man:
and now they must pay with their lives
secret agent man:
how is thy morning progressing, O Amy?
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
i woke up with a liger in my bed
secret agent man:
awesome
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
she was fat and orange…
secret agent man:
and bred for her magic and skilz
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
so she was pretty easy to stop
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
magic she has, skilz not so much
secret agent man:
NSM - not so much.
secret agent man:
heh. a new abrev.
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
fancy…
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
i was in thailand briefly last night
secret agent man:
very nice
secret agent man:
and how was it?
secret agent man:
did you manage to avoid being hit by lunatic rickshaw drivers hyped up on mate?
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
well, really i just had enough time to feast
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
i did
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
barely
secret agent man:
you’re lucky
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
yeah
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
tonight i’m getting busy with patrick swayze
secret agent man:
I heard
secret agent man:
you slore
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
yeah
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
looks like tortilla warmers are on sale
secret agent man:
save me a case
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
weren’t you looking for one of those?
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
or 12?
secret agent man:
one?
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
jinx
secret agent man:
I need one for each tortilla
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
right
secret agent man:
better save me two cases
secret agent man:
with my new house in Stevensville, I have plenty of room to spread out in the kitchen now
secret agent man:
I took it by force last night
secret agent man:
A couple of cases of whiskey, 1,200 rounds of ammo
secret agent man:
they did not have a chance
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
is the bike fixable?
secret agent man:
in their pussy SUVs with their faggy “Support Our Troops ” magnets.
secret agent man:
wusses
secret agent man:
why fix it?
secret agent man:
I’m just going to buy another one this afternoon
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
buy me one..
secret agent man:
what colour do you want?
secret agent man:
and are you looking for a BMW crotch rocket or a Fat Boy
secret agent man:
or a Sportster?
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
a fatty
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
lavender
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
please
secret agent man:
OK, no problem
secret agent man:
and a windshield, too, and all of the extra chrome they have?
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
i love lots of chrome
secret agent man:
OK
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
and a little tv
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
to fit right above the handlebars
secret agent man:
I’ll also get you a lavender leather jacket with lots of zippers
secret agent man:
and some chaps to match
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
and fringe
secret agent man:
and gloves with fringe
secret agent man:
right
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
elbow length, lots of fringe
secret agent man:
and some fur
secret agent man:
real fur
secret agent man:
taken from real ligers
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
awesome
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
the helmet can’t match, though
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
i’m thinking…something with flames
secret agent man:
of course
secret agent man:
and a huge chrome point
secret agent man:
like a kaiser might wear
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
(someone just walked by as i’m laughing, alone in my office…)
secret agent man:
kill them
secret agent man:
we allow for no one to incite weakness in our ranks
secret agent man:
did you kill them yet?
secret agent man:
use the flamethrower
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
i was away, feeding their fingers through the laminator
secret agent man:
Ooooh! Nice. Very Fargo of you.
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
the flamethrower will come next…hang on…
secret agent man:
OK
secret agent man:
hurry up.
secret agent man:
the helecopter will be here soon to pick us up
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
damn it…that was tricker than i thought
secret agent man:
yes, but you kilt ‘em good, right?
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
got r done
secret agent man:
good
secret agent man:
now wipe that whiskey off your mouth
secret agent man:
it’s embarrasing
secret agent man:
we need to get to the roof
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
but not before they hurled a few cans of diced tomatoes (with basil) my way
secret agent man:
the helecopter is here
secret agent man:
Oh, jesus.
secret agent man:
cockroaches
secret agent man:
the helicopter has cockroaches all over the floor
secret agent man:
nevermind that
secret agent man:
we need to get out of here
secret agent man:
climb in
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
no way dude. not with cockroaches
secret agent man:
GET IN YOU WUSS
secret agent man:
this is important business
secret agent man:
cockroaches be damned
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
we can toss them out one at a time once we’re in the air
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
it’ll be a hoot watching them
secret agent man:
no time for that
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
you are no fun when you’re in this state
secret agent man:
I have a high pressure water gun we can use to blow them out the other side
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
even funner
secret agent man:
Oh, look, they are in Paul’s hair!
secret agent man:
did you see that one crawl up his nose?
secret agent man:
Oh, look at him twitching
secret agent man:
guess they’ll need to find a new Produce guy
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
that’s a shame
secret agent man:
no time for sentiment
secret agent man:
you have the map?
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
we don’t need a map
secret agent man:
alright
secret agent man:
I just pushed the pilot out the window
secret agent man:
he doesn’t know anything, and you seem to know where we’re going
secret agent man:
fly this thing
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
i told lulu we’d pick her up
secret agent man:
alright, but make it snappy
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
she made sandwiches
secret agent man:
these had better be damn good sandwiches
secret agent man:
what kind are they
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
not sure
secret agent man:
WE ARE GOING TO PICK UP A POSSIBLE INFORMANT WHO “MADE SANDWICHES” AND YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT KIND THEY ARE?
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
she’s on our side, don’t worry
secret agent man:
SORRY I CAN’T HEAR YOU OVER ALL OF THIS WIND AND THE ‘COPTER BLADES. YOU’LL HAVE TO TALK LOUDER
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
i just hope that she didn’t wear the hoop skirt
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
that could potentially complicate things
secret agent man:
WHAT?
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
I SAID…I JUST HOPE SHE DIDN’T WEAR THE HOOP SKIRT!!!!!
secret agent man:
IS THAT HER? DOWN THERE IN THE HOOP SKIRT WITH THE LONGEBERGER BASKET?
secret agent man:
I THINK IT IS
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
YES, HANG ON…
secret agent man:
I’M DROPPING THE LINE
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
I’M SWOOPING DOWN…
secret agent man:
SHE’LL HAVE TO GRAB ON AND CLIMB UP
secret agent man:
NO TIME TO LAND
secret agent man:
OK, SHE’S GRABBED ON
secret agent man:
NOW LET’S GO
secret agent man:
I HOPE SHE DOESN’T FALL OFF
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
DON’T WORRY, WE DO THIS ALL THE TIME…
secret agent man:
I TRUST YOU
secret agent man:
LET’S GO
secret agent man:
WHERE EXACTLY ARE WE GOING?
secret agent man:
THE TROOPS IN MADAGASCAR HAVE ANNIHILATED THAT SOCIETY, SO WE FON’T HAVE TO GO THERE
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
ACTUALLY, I CAN’T TELL YOU WHERE WE’RE GOING
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
YOU’LL HAVE TO PUT THIS BLINDFOLD ON.
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
LULU AND I ARE IN CHARGE NOW.
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
HERE, HAVE A SANDWICH
secret agent man:
OH, JESUS
secret agent man:
CAN’T YOU KEEP THIS CRAFT STEADY?
secret agent man:
I CAN’T SEE A THING
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
HUSH UP AND EAT
secret agent man:
why is the sandwich moving around in my mouth?
secret agent man:
it seems like there is something alive in it
secret agent man:
(Oh, so much better since we put the microphone helmets on)
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
LULU’S ALWAYS COMING UP WITH CRAZY RECIPES
secret agent man:
I can hear you better now
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
I LIKE YELLING
secret agent man:
yelling is OK.
secret agent man:
can you hear me?
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
HUH?
secret agent man:
O FOR FUCK’S SAKE
secret agent man:
ARE WE THERE YET?
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
NOPE.
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
OH SHIT
secret agent man:
I THINK THE THORZINE IS KICKING IN…..
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
IT LOOKS LIKE WE HAVE SOMETHING HAPPENING WITH THE TAIL
secret agent man:
MMMRMPHHH
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
I’M GOING TO HAVE TO CRAWL OUT THERE AND FIX IT
secret agent man:
THORZINE…..IS…SO….NICE….
secret agent man:
GIVE….LULU….THE….CONTROLS…../
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
WELL, YOU’RE GONNA HAVE TO FLY THIS THING
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
LULU’S BUSY KNITTING ORANGE SOCKS
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
HERE.
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
IT’S MOSTLY ON AUTO PILOT
secret agent man:
HURRY UP AND FIX THAT TAIL
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
WE WON’T EVEN NEED TO REMOVE THE BLINDFOLD
secret agent man:
WITH THESE DRUGS, I’M HAVNIG A HARD TIME KEEPING THIS THING AIRBORN
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
YEAH.
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
WHERE’S MY TOOLBELT?
secret agent man:
AND THE YARN IS GETTIGN ALL TANGLED IN THE CONTROLS
secret agent man:
TOOLBELT?
secret agent man:
YOU DON’T NEED A TOOLBELT
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
FUCK IT
secret agent man:
HERE, USE THIS PAPERCLIP AND A KNITTING NEEDLE, MCGYVER
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
I’LL JUST USE THIS CHEWING GUM
secret agent man:
PERFECT
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
K, HERE GOES
secret agent man:
NICE JOB
secret agent man:
FLYING THIS THING WITH A BLINDFOLD ON IS MUCH EASIER THAN I THOUGHT
secret agent man:
I AM SO IN TUNE WITH THE UNIVERSE
secret agent man:
I CAN SENSE AND AVOID OBSTACLES
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
WELL, THAT’S GOING TO COME IN HANDY IN JUST A MOMENT…
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
LOOKS LIKE WE’RE GOING TO HAVE TO MAKE A WATER LANDING
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
THAT GUM’S NOT HOLDING…
secret agent man:
I SENSED THAT
secret agent man:
AND I ALSO SENSE THE SHARKS
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
THERE ARE STILL A FEW SANDWICHES LEFT
secret agent man:
I DON’T THINK I CAN SWIM VERY WELL WITH THIS BLINDFOLD, AND FEND OFF THE SHARKS
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
WE’LL FEED THEM TO THE SHARKS
secret agent man:
I HAVE TO TAKE IT OFF
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
OK
secret agent man:
LUCKY LULU WORE HER HOOP SKIRT
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
WE CAN USE IT FOR FLOTATION
secret agent man:
IT’S GOT A SECRET INFLATABLE RAFT FUNCTION SHE DIDNT TELL YOU ABOUT
secret agent man:
O GOOD, SHE’S DEPLOYING IT NOW
secret agent man:
IT’S MADE OF KEVLAR, SO THE SHARKS CANT TOUCH US
secret agent man:
Wow, that was a much more graceful landing than I anticipated
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
THIS COULD BE FUN EVEN, EXCEPT THAT IT’S THE HEIGHT OF MONSOON SEASON
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
The water’s looking a bit choppy…
secret agent man:
looks like the wormhole we just entered sucked me in
secret agent man:
i didn’t expect it, but the whirlpool was the portal to the wormhole
secret agent man:
i went 2500 years into the future
secret agent man:
and learned that if I don’t do a little work this morning, I might disintegrate
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
did you bring your laptop?
secret agent man:
NO
secret agent man:
WHY
secret agent man:
I CAN GRAB IT BEFORE I GO TO THE STUDIO IF YOU NEED SOMETHIGN
secret agent man:
*something
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
if you’d thought to bring it with you, you could work right here in the raft
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
but, as it is, looks like we’ll have to drop you off here
secret agent man:
yeah, the wireless reception isn’t so great out here in the open water
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
there’s an island coming up here on the left…
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
i can call in for a chopper pick-up
secret agent man:
kthanks
secret agent man:
sorry
secret agent man:
people have begun tio arrive + I slammed some folks with a shitton of bugs yesterday
secret agent man:
so they are all in my office now
secret agent man:
anyway
secret agent man:
i have to go
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
yeah, the cockroaches, right?
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
k
secret agent man:
it’s been fun having our little adventure this morning
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
me too actually
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
yeah, i’m a little wiped out
Ninja with Mad Skilz:
that was crazy

I discovered porn when I was a mere lad of seven or eight. I fell in love for
the first time with the Playboy babes of 1966 up in the dusty loft of my uncle’s
barn. I poured through those magazines in awe, and knew then the purpose of
this thing between my legs that I had been touching before I went to bed since I
was four.

Disclaimer: Many of the links in this post are NSFW.

I grew up, though,
and grew out of it. Porn bores the shit out of me now. What I do find
entertaining, however, is to read porn critiques. Sites like fleshbot and Gram Ponante make me laugh when I can’t
find a smile in a room full of happy clowns.

Some of my regular readers
know that the Comic Sans font is one of my pet peeves. And for some reason,
now, I seek out horrible uses of said font. So when I saw Wild Bill’s site I nearly shot beer
out of my nose laughing.

So far, I haven’t found any bagel fetish sites, or Master Lock sites, but I have found plenty of strange sites overall.

Really, though, porn is simply a symptom of a larger problem. And it has to do specifically with “wildness”, and that place in us that is wild, something about which I have been thinking very much of late, especially after reading
this article. I hung out with Bex this week, and the idea of wildness has
been preying on my mind. I will revisit it in my next post. I’m off to go
explore the night.

(Editor’s note: I have had less than 3 hours sleep today, and I have no idea why the formatting is so effed up today.)

brand ‘em.

Out here in Montana, we do things the old fashioned way. Like take film pictures. Here’s one of the branding about which I posted a while back.

Dark clouds hovered over Frenchtown, ominously threatening to make Sunday a wet, muddy exercise in endurance. Mike picked me up around nine, and we had gotten a coupla of breakfast burritos to pad our stomachs for the beer and whiskey that was sure to be flowing as the day wore on. We were both less than awake during the drive out, and we drove, mostly in silence, with the radio loud on the way to the ranch.

The road up to the place where the branding would take place was mercifully dry, and the dust kicked up behind us as men in trucks rushed around, completing last minute details. The cowhands were young – fourteen or fifteen, and they sat lazily on the back of a flatbed, waiting for the day to begin. The cows had already been separated, and were braying loudly at being removed from their young. The calves were in a pen, kicking up dust and fighting with one another. We parked the rig and got our gloves, then walked over to greet the others.

Joe was already giving orders to Lisa, the nurse who would be vaccinating the calves. The generator was not yet running, and the irons were still cold, but things seemed to be shaping up. Joe Senior was wearing his rubber boots, and was sharpening his knife for the castrations. There were men rigging up the fences and lubricating the gates, kids running around and a couple of Healers underfoot. It seemed like everyone already had a job to do, and I rolled a cigarette for later.

Soon, the calves were herded into the main holding pen by the cowhands and the first few were guided into the chute. The irons were hot – so hot that some of them had turned an almost white-brass looking color. Joe uses a hot iron for dehorning the calves He had four different sized de-horning iron and a straight iron in the fire. The main JB iron was an electric one. The cattle come down the chute, one at a time, and are guided into a cattle catching table, their head sticking out the front of the table. The table is then tipped to its side so that the calve is lying horizontally. Joe then tightens down on it so that the calve is held tightly in place by a metal contraption across its ribs. One guy stand on the calf’s right rear leg, and holds his left rear leg and tail with his other had, so that the calve is still (mostly still) to accept the iron.

“Bull!” someone yells, and Joe Senior comes out with his bucket and knife to cut off the calf’s balls. The testicles are collected in a bucket, washed, and fried up for snacks that an old guy brings around to us throughout the day. They are small, almost like popcorn shrimp, and are quite tasty, once you get past the idea that they are a calf’s balls. Washing the first bite down with whiskey is highly recommended.

I hand Joe the electric iron, and he makes the first impression. There are other ways to brand cattle that are allegedly more humane, but most ranchers in these parts use hot irons. When Joe is satisfied with the impression, he pats the burn mark, hands the electric iron to me, and I hand him the straight iron. While the calf is being branded, Lisa is busy vaccinating him. Joe hands the straight iron back to me, and I clean both irons with a wire brush, removing any hair or flesh that may be attached to it. If he needs to be de-horned, Joe grabs an iron for that purpose, burns out the horn, and hands the iron back to me. I place it back into the fire, which is run by propane and looks a little like this.

Sunday, we did between one hundred and one hundred and ten head of cattle. “Bull!” or “Heifer” was yelled by one of the old guys as each calf came into the cattle catcher. Someone sitting a little ways off in a lawn chair recorded the stats. The smell of shit and mud and burning hair hung heavily in the air. After the first twenty calves or so, everyone fell into a routine. I was careful to hand the iron to Joe upside-down with the cord out of the way, so that he didn’t have to move it much when he took it from me. The guy standing in front of me, the one standing on the calves’ back legs, was careful to grab hold of the tail and block the asshole so that none of us were sprayed with shit. Once in a while, we’d stop for a minute to shovel mud onto the table to clean the shit from it. The guys holding down the calves’ back legs switched out every five calves or so in order that they did not get tired.

The generator, combined with the flame from the propane was loud enough that I wore earplugs, and I was somewhat removed from the conversations that were going on between the men handling the calves. I heard bits and pieces of conversations, some related to the branding, others discussing past brandings, or even conversations about some of the ranchers’ families. The spirit of comradery between the men was thick enough that it was almost tangible. They paid little notice to the calf whose eyes were rolling back into his head as he felt the heat of the iron, felt the snip of the knife against his balls. And the sense of trust between the men that we all knew our job, and we would all perform our job safely, was also amazing to me. We worked with the precision of a machine.

After a calf would get branded, denutted, vaccinated and de-horned, Joe would tip the cattle-catcher table upright again, and release the gate. The recently branded calf would run out of the gate, up another chute, and be herded into a field with the waiting cows. This process took between 45 seconds and 120 seconds per animal.

The smell of burnt hair was almost overpowering, and the color of the smoke from the burnt hair was a pure white. Kids cracked beers and brought them to thirsty men. I was careful not to burn anyone. The hair on my right arm had completely burned off from standing so close to the fire. I burned myself slightly with the electric iron when one of the men holding down the calves’ legs backed into me as he avoided being kicked by the calf, but the burn was not a bad one.

It was around one o’clock when we finished, finally, and the generator was turned off, the propane valve closed, the irons allowed to cool. People congratulated each other, smoked cigarettes, drank whiskey, and loaded up into their rigs for a dinner catered by the man who runs one of the longest running bars in Missoula. It was a simple meal of burgers and brauts, because the previous day, Charlie had catered an even bigger branding at another man’s ranch, but we were all glad that the work was finished, no humans were hurt, and the rain had held off. People were laughing and drinking and telling stories, and it felt good to be a part of something. It was good too, being a meat eater, to have participated in such an event, to know the sacrifices these animals make for us, and to know that I look forward to my next juicy steak, that I was not put off by what some would consider suffering and inhumane treatment of these animals. Cattle have no other reason to exist in our society other than to provide us humans with food, and it is good to be a visceral part of that process, to know that steaks come from real animals who have real pain, and not from a well-lit supermarket for $5.95 a pound.