the fine art of lounging with Dash Deringer

My mornings are taken up mostly with a lot of this...

but when that is over and I have nothing to do or don't have the motivation to go out and laugh at the new world faggots of the modern world or I am not hiking up a mountain or rolling down that mountain... then my time is invested in doing mostly this...

lounging.

I also spend a fair amount of time scheming... which many may mistake as brooding... though I do tend to do a lot of that as well... but mostly it's the scheming... but because many parts of my body are in constant pain I do not smile and it forces a look of deep concentration on my face... but it could also sometimes be the brooding...

 

and then of course it could just be that I wish to be left alone because...

no fucks given..

Happy New Year.

2016...

***

as for the coming year...

the time has come for you sons of forgotten dragons to rise from your slumber and take back what belongs to you...

***

Merry Christmas

That Christmas was a long time ago but it was a good one.

Thank you all form coming by to visit this little site... thank you for your comments and your e-mails, and your friendship.

I wish you all the very best in the coming year and that the blessings of our father in Heaven be abundant in your lives... Merry Christmas.

Dash Deringer

(but you can call me Victor)

In the Land of the Savage

a fiction (kinda')

this started out a s comment for the post

To Experience Freedom You Must Live Dangerously

by Jack Ronin

There is a place where only a savage dares to go. A place far from the soul killing crowds of a city and the dream destroying beast of traffic, where there are no cell phone towers and internet...  no electric light, no running water from a tap, no coffee shop with over priced stimulants and pretentious self proclaimed intellectual do-gooders competing to apologize for their ethnicity and deny what is left of their culture and abandon any thing that resemble traditional gender identity...

That place where only a savage dares to go lays deep in the stillness of a lonely forest lit only by the streams of light that found a passage through the thick leafy blanket floating under skies filled with so much blue that jet liners could not penetrate them.  In this lonely place the traffic scurries around a bush and scampers up a tree.  In this land of the savage the sound of the city is replaced by the song of the wolf at night and the robin looking for the day light to break through the branches.  In the land of the savage there is no over paid, ungrateful bureaucrat waiting for you to kiss their ass for a building permit or license... you simply pitch your tent and gather up wood for your fire.  There is no rush tomorrow to catch your train or bus or beat the other monkeys to get on the fast lane... you will rise with the rest of the creatures of the wild... you’ll eat when you get hungry and rest when it pleases you... wander about with no agenda and explore this world of green and brown, of stone and soil, rivers and hills and hidden dips in the terrain that lead to other hidden places.  You chase the deer and the fox and try to learn the song of the blue jay and the call of the raven.  You swim in natural waters and wash away the stench of the modern world and contemplate the name of God as you float on your back and try to remember what it was like to rely on another for money to pay your rent and keep food on your plate until you begin to deny such a life could ever have existed let alone had been the sort of life your creator intended for you - for you are savage and you belong in bare feet or at the very least, footwear you fashioned for yourself from the skins of last nights meal.  You run through the dense brush just to see how fast and how far you can go before you turn back around to try to find your way back to  camp - but if you don’t make it back for a couple of days - you don’t care, because there is no one there to care about you - for you are savage and you belong to the moment and destiny’s reward is honor, and glory is the drink she pours in the cup for the man that lives his life without fear. 

You are savage and you hunt the bear and the antelope with spear and sling, with bow and arrow, with stealth and patience, with steady heart and painted face - for you are savage and you belong to the deep forest mist and the smoke and  the ash and the blood and the sweat of natures initiation and the music of the dance is the chant of the nymphs and the sprite and the daughters of Phaleg beating on drums and ringing bells... you are the prince of the Oak and the priest of Atlanteia’s altar, the marshal of green valleys and the strength in the hickory spear.  Your crown is a garland of ivy and your robe the coat of the white bear.  You are the whisper of Autumn’s last breath and  the shadow of Jegudiel... You are savage, chief of forgotten angels, master of outcast demons, your tribe is the rain and the fire, the wind and the hail, the thunder and the lightning. Your brothers are Azrael - the giver and taker of life, Abaddon - the destroyer, Apollo  - the sun of pagan Zues... you were born to tear down the world you were born into and build a better one in your image, to conquer the lands of other savages and build your temples over theirs as they built over the temples of the savages they once conquered...

You are savage... the dance of fire waits for you... the hunt is calling you... the quest for glory saves a place for you... the thunder in your heart is the legion anticipating your return to the field of battle... the restless tilting of your soul is the howling of steal waiting to be forged for your brutal swing at the chaos of the progressive civilized world... that big empty hole inside longs for a fight that pushes you to the edge of dishonor... a brutal, ruthless, barbaric war that fuels the hungry lust for blood of Satan himself... a fight that raises demons and calls down angels and all manner of wandering spirit in between... that pounding pain in your head is the thundering echo of rage struggling to be unleashed on the ungrateful, lazy, obese, self-entitled weaklings that only consume and leave nothing but their filth and the waste of their consumption to pile onto the landfill that is their cities.

The land of the free man is the land of the Savage and if you dare wander into it all that is required is faith in yourself, a belief that God has filled you up with thousands of years of instinct waiting to come out, a sharp knife and a strong axe, a little imagination and skills enough to keep you warm and out of the elements, the will to feed yourself... but just in case, pack some beef jerky and matches. 

You are here because a savage up in your family tree had the will and the balls to travel to a new world and conquer for himself a woman to have children with.

The path of the free man - the Savage, is not an easy one, for it requires you to let go of your fear - fear is the thought of losing that which you think you need - money, a home, a car, a job, belonging, approval... all of it, and when you have let go of the things you think you need, you are free from the world and reborn a Savage  - the destroyer, giver and the taker of life, the son of the pagan, who’s glory is only  outshone by the sun.

Welcome back... Savage.

Tom Lovell

the girl in charcoal

Trying to conjure up a woman's face from my memories is a struggle... they seem to have all faded into a blur left behind in a hang-over... some of those girls were quite lovely creatures and the ones worth remembering, unfortunately have also gotten lost in the haze - Carmen, the best one out of all of them still lurks in the shadowed corners of my mind but her face is now beginning to fade... see, I kept no photographs of any of the girls  - I never even asked for pictures and I never took pictures of any of them... well... there are pictures of Kelly that I kept, but I can not say for certain why... Carmen made off with lots of pictures of me and found an opportunity to snap some more every chance she could, but I have no pictures of her - she always wanted to give me pictures of her but I always said no - I don't know why I did not want pictures of her, maybe I knew I was going to hurt her the way I did and did not want to be reminded of her, but I have thought of her everyday since I threw her away... Carmen was in a competitive aerobics team and had an amazing body and face to match, and the pictures she always wanted to give were very provocative bordering on pornographic which I thought was funny for a girl that was a virgin when I found her...(?). 

I left all the photographs of Veronica behind when I left Asuncion and there is no evidence of her in my life except for the ghost of her and the echoes of her whispers that still linger in a lonely corner in my soul... Franky hid away the proof of that romance in a box at the bottom of a closet.

Dagmar Left last night for her fathers house for Christmas... she won't be returning... not to me... but she too made out with a lot of things that belonged to me - notebooks, drawings, and pictures of me when I was at my best... and she left behind letters and drawings of her own and pictures of her growing up while I was away trying to figure out my life... her life has been planned out and she and I  both know that her family has hopes of a future marriage with a better, more important man than I... who am I to get in the way of another mans dreams? 

No, there is very little proof left in the world of the women I charmed and seduced and abused in my world... women I recklessly abandoned and the ones I took for granted... very little indeed... and I can't remember what they looked like let alone most of their names... what a waste of good fucking...

What will I leave behind to prove to the world that I even lived at all if I have no sons... and have no city to build for them... what?

Kelly

GRATITUDE (rule 43)

I have been corresponding lately with new friends  - and potential tribesmen. One of them (we’ll call him Brutus), in his latest e-mail wrote:

“You have told me several times and you have said on your site to be grateful, but it was not on your list of rules to live by.  So should we be grateful? Or did you just forget?”

To Brutus and all other young men that stumble upon these 42 Rules to live by - they are my rules to live by... you need to create your own rules to live by, your own creed, your own philosophy of life.  You need to define your own success, your own morals, your own meaning of dignity.  Only you can determine what integrity is for you and draw the line between how far you will go to achieve the life you want without surrendering your honor and your dignity and only you can decide on a life of honor, which is not an easy life, or a life with the rest of the cattle, which is a much easier life - until the day of the slaughter.

I have tried for  a few years now to live my life according to the Lord’s 10 Commandments, aside from the Commandments,  I have put these rules together for me, to help keep me on the path toward the man I have chosen to be - If you choose to be no one of importance to those you leave behind and leave no legacy for them - rules to govern your life by are really  not important - follow the crowd and do what others do... go to work, get drunk, try to get laid... play games and watch your regularly scheduled programming... pass out for the night without having learned anything of value and not having done anything to improve your life and make something better of yourself and the world you live in... doesn’t matter to me, see - the more people we have dependent on us, the more power we have over you... and there it is.

Gratitude

I learned long ago to be grateful for all that I have and all that I have earned and acquired through hard work, paid for in blood, sweat, my honor, my dignity and  my sanity, that now, being grateful for every little thing that may seem insignificant to the outside world,  is just a part of life, it is a part of my being that I no longer think about it - I pick up a discarded coin from the street and I whisper a little thank you to my God... I get a check in the mail and I light a candle to the Lord in Humble gratitude... I give thanks for my crew by giving my friendship and loyalty in return... I appreciate the food on my plate as I savor it slowly and ask the creator to bless every swallow.  When you are grateful for everything from the very small to the great accomplishments of your life you will truly be blessed with more of it... I am grateful for beautiful art that I see and I have been blessed to be surrounded by more of it... I am grateful for the money I have earned and I have been blessed by receiving more of it in abundance... I am grateful for the friendships I have made and I am being blessed  by attracting more friends to me... I am grateful for all the opportunities that the universe places in my path and I am blessed by stumbling upon many more of them...

There is a time to be humble in life and that time is in the ways you express gratitude... it is in the sincerity of the way you simply say “thank you”.

Do it long enough the right way and it becomes like breathing... you don’t have to think about it - you simply just do it.

The Ungrateful

For a very long time I worked in the food service industry - and I did it all. Some days, when I was a waiter, I made no money and I was just pissed off, either because we had no customers or I made absolutely no tips for my service (they say it builds character).  It was an older person that I worked with that first showed my what gratitude means and I truly began to study what we call “the Laws of the Universe” - after every tip this person received he wold fold the money and hold it in the right hand and with it do the sign of the cross and kiss the back of the thumb... every single time without fail... and this person, I began to pay attention, never got stiffed and had clientele that would not set in any other waiters section other than his... so I began to do the same, but nothing happened until I showed honest sincerity in my actions, then my attitude changed and the money flowed and my position in the business began to rise... but for the most part outside of that I had always been ungrateful for anything... and I never cared and I was greedy - and not in a good way... I wanted more but I had done nothing to earn it - I felt entitled but I had no right s to entitlement, neither by birth or by conquest... I was just, at one point, jealous and greedy and lacking in morals, values and direction... but life has a way of kicking a man in the dick just when he needs it.

I was never really thankful for having food to eat until I had no food to eat, never grateful for having a home until I had nowhere to live, never grateful for my little car until I had to sleep in it and then I was grateful I was not huddled behind a dumpster... I’ve lost it all, a couple of times and it made me angry and bitter but the second time -  I humbled myself before the Universe and tried to figure out how I got into this situation and I accepted the fact that my choices and my mistakes got me here... and it would be my attitude that would determine where I go from there - for at one point I was ready to just give up and stay in the abyss and loneliness of failure, but my selfish greed spurned me on, and what little honor and dignity I had left would not allow me to beg for money - though I disgraced my self by stealing... I humbly asked for another chance and if given that opportunity I would prove myself and I would do something better than what I had done before, I would make something better of myself and give back for every good thing that I get... the Universe heard me and began to place opportunities to prove myself in my path - but I did not pay attention at first, though once I caught on, it became a game and I was on my way to winning... but be aware, for everything in life is a test. And life can very easily kick you in the dick once more and laugh in your face without giving a goddamn about you and your dreams and your feelings... and take it all away

I asked for an opportunity and I got it - and I gave thanks. Times have gotten tough but it helped me find out who I am and what I am made of - and for that I gave thanks.  I worked hard and lived below my means and sacrificed friendships and relationships and having fun to have enough to live well later - and for that I give thanks.  Men came into my life that tried to teach me about the world and life, about money and women and the power of the human mind, and I may have been a poor student - but for them I give thanks.

I have heard people say they have nothing to be thankful for... though they have a job and home and nice possessions.  The United States is a country where the poor are fat and have cell phones, but they have nothing to be grateful for, where people can be taken care of from the cradle to the grave if you know how to fill out the right paper work, but they have nothing to be grateful for, where people are allowed to burn the flag and spit on the service of those wounded and killed to allow them to burn that flag, but they have nothing to be grateful for.  The United States is a country where the weak are protected by the strong, but they have nothing to be grateful for, where the lazy and the poor are supported by the generosity of those that can afford to give, but they have nothing to be grateful for.  

My mother’s name is attached to a scholarship fund of a local university along with that of her late husband’s and not once has she received a thank you letter from anyone who has benefited from that scholarship, nor did her late husband receive any such letter.  I suppose these students feel they have nothing to be grateful for since they did themselves earn said scholarship - but if that scholarship was not there for them to help pay for their education... what would they do.  My mothers late husband was under no obligation to set up that scholarship fund - it was his way of expressing gratitude for his successful life and wanted others to be able to learn to play and create music (which is what the scholarship is for), because he enjoyed it so much - he just wanted to humbly and sincerely say thank you for the music.

The greediest people I know are the angry, intolerant, lazy, envious youth of America, who want more, without having earned it, without having paid their dues and not having accomplished anything... that is true greed... and truly ungrateful behavior.  Want to see more ungrateful behavior, look no further than countries taking in third world refugees and see how they ask for more and give nothing in return - see, refugees do not volunteer to join the military and serve their host country to show gratitude - or do they... not many illegal emigrants joining the army to show gratitude to their new country - or are there?

More, more, more... give me, give me, give me... mine. mine, mine... You don’t have to be grateful for anything... you don’t have to express gratitude if you don’t want to - I don’t care, it makes no difference to me - I can only tell you what I do and how I do it and what works for me, I can only make suggestions - it is up to you to do what you want with the information I give you - you don’t have to say thank you... I consider it giving back - it is an expression of my gratitude when I try to help others that ask for it... but I don’t care what you do afterwards.

I have learned how to make money, I do not have to beg - for that I am grateful.

I have learned how to take care of my self and I have learned  to be prepared - for that I am grateful.

I have learned about women and I can get laid - for that I am grateful.

I have learned the power of the mind and the secret to bend the Universe to my will should I chose it - and for that I am grateful.

I have learned that the world needs more men like me in it more than we need the world - and for that I am grateful.

art

by 

Rene Gruau

42 rules to live by

Rules to live by in no particular order but all of equal importance to me.  Stated plainly without defined reasons for them as they should be self explanatory and make perfect sense to the Legionnaire.

 1.   The Golden Rule - do unto others as you would have others do unto you.

 2.   Be prepared.

 3.  Be self-reliant.

 4.   Be true to God.

 5.   Be true to yourself.

 6.   Respect yourself.

 7.   Have high standards of yourself and those around you.

 8.   Keep your word - and hold those around you to theirs.

 9.   Stand for something (believe in something greater than you).

10.   Have values.

11.   Define your morals.

12.   Live with Honor.

13.   Live with integrity.

14.   Never stop learning.

15.   Invest in yourself.

16.   Defend truth.

17.   Embrace tradition.

18.   Celebrate your culture.

19.   Protect your religion.

20.   Live without fear.

21.   Create.

22.   Live healthy - in body and mind.

23.   Have passion.

24.   Show compassion - to the needy.

25.   Define your own success and pursue it.

26.   Have a strong work ethic.

27.   Have a philosophy of life.

28.   Keep God close.

29.   Be faithful and true to your tribe.

30.   Indulge in nature.

31.   Enjoy solitude.

32.   Have dignity - and guard it well.

33.   Mind your own business.

34.   Journal.

35.   Find your true purpose in life - and live it.

36.   Fulfill your destiny.

37.   Live by a code of honor.

38.   Respect and honor the aged.

39.   Teach the young.

40.   Take responsibility for your life - your choices, and your mistakes.

41.   Live your life and love your woman, your children, your family, and your friends like there is no    tomorrow.    

42.   The No Bullshit Rule: “Life is too short for bullshit...”

art by 

Brent Lynch

this girl

pencil

Victor Vogt

habrá poesía

Rima IV

 Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer

No digáis que, agotado su tesoro,
de asuntos falta, enmudeció la lira;
podrá no haber poetas; pero siempre
habrá poesía.

Mientras las ondas de la luz al beso
palpiten encendidas,
mientras el sol las desgarradas nubes
de fuego y oro vista,
mientras el aire en su regazo lleve
perfumes y armonías,
mientras haya en el mundo primavera,
¡habrá poesía!

Mientras la ciencia a descubrir no alcance
las fuentes de la vida,
y en el mar o en el cielo haya un abismo
que al cálculo resista,
mientras la humanidad siempre avanzando
no sepa a dó camina,
mientras haya un misterio para el hombre,
¡habrá poesía!

Mientras se sienta que se ríe el alma,
sin que los labios rían;
mientras se llore, sin que el llanto acuda
a nublar la pupila;
mientras el corazón y la cabeza
batallando prosigan,
mientras haya esperanzas y recuerdos,
¡habrá poesía!

Mientras haya unos ojos que reflejen
los ojos que los miran,
mientras responda el labio suspirando
al labio que suspira,
mientras sentirse puedan en un beso
dos almas confundidas,
mientras exista una mujer hermosa,
¡habrá poesía!

you ain't seen nothing like me yet...

The missing years:

I was  in chains... and holding those chains was a demon beast whose name I will not say... but the devil himself offered me a deal... fortunately... another intervened...

I met her when she was still a little girl.  Her father had taken me in and tried to teach me about the world... and life... and tried to teach me to be a man... but to that little girl I was nothing more than another servant in the house and when I would be out working in the gardens or the fields she would treat me as such... she was a mean and snobby little child... she denies it... but it is true.

She would tease me and insult me the way only mean little rich girls know how to when others were around... but when I would be alone in her fathers study reading or doing work for the man or when I would be studying alone in the dinning room or just trying to find some peace in the court yard she would come and smile at me and leave her drawings on top of my work or bring me her little stories and poems... and whisper things to me in a language I am not sure is even real... she laughs and says that never happened... but I kept all those drawings and stories and pieces of poetry... The first Christmas, she sat next to me at her fathers table and squeezed my hand as he said grace... and held it for a long time afterward until everyone was served... on new years eve... when no-one was looking she kissed me on the cheek... and whispered her strange whispers... I tell her I am writing this and she sticks her tongue out at me - just the way she would when she was a child... she laughs... because she knows it is all true... I tell her she has yet to apologize for being such a brat even after I gave her the most comfortable job in the world... she rolls her eyes...

I told her that we are a bad... very bad idea... and it is one of those things that just simply can not be... after all... I am just another servant in her fathers house... and she said - "you, are in my fathers tribe..."  I think that just complicates things even more... she does not care... when we had returned to Mexico she told me that she told her mother when she was still young that one day... and her mother shook her head and said no. she has said a couple of times that she knew the first time she saw me... and she told her sisters... and they said no.

She told me that she hated me for a long time after I had left their home and disappeared into the world.

And then I needed to take on some extra help to put things in order as I create disorder out of the remaining madness that still litters the corridors of my mind... and she jumped at the chance... "the pay won't be much... but you'll have the run of the place..."

But things changed... she freaked out a couple of months back when I had vanished and did not make it home when I said I would... she came up to Texas to find the gang and someone to go after me... and it was Tommy... he disappeared into the world with Jan... but eventually I made it home... she freaked out over all the e-mails and strange events and unanswered questions that we still all have... she got scared and worries that something bad will happen... she wants to have  nothing  with the things I do now outside of my business... and she asked me to lock her out of my non-business e-mail accounts... she worries about her father and other men in his tribe... but she worries more about me because she is living in my house and has had to go after me more than once... I do tend to wander off into the world at night and not come back for months... and when I return... I have not always been able to shake of the demons that get dragged back home... I said deals were made... I didn't say they were good ones... but... she said... she would follow me where ever I went... and I just shook my head... no...

I was in Cartagena  when she said - "maybe... what you are looking for is back home..." those are the exact same words Amanda had said to me... and I lost out on that one... at first I thought she was talking about Valentina - because I can be thick sometimes... and when I realized what she meant... I returned home...

This may be another chapter in the book of things I should not have done... but... maybe... it has to be left alone to play out as the fates decide...

There are no lies I can tell you that you will believe... and there is no truth that you will accept... and I  - like you... can only offer you the words of another... until we figure out what this is.

Destiny

Maybe destiny is not such a complicated thing and requires no grand sacrifice and commitment of us.  Perhaps those men who will achieve great things were born to a predetermined course and they had no say in the matter, they simply walk down the only path they know until they reach their destination.

Maybe these men that history has chosen to remember by their deeds or misfortunes or their sheer dumb luck, were simply passing by and stumbled into a moment they could not get out of... and the rest, as they say, is history.

It could be that for some men their lives have been written down and no matter what they do or how far and fast they run in the opposite direction of it, they simply cannot escape who and what they were chosen to be... the role they were meant to play in the grand scheme of things... maybe.

My friend Cris often says “a penny short and a minute too late” when there is not enough money or time for the things he wants.  I  found myself using that same phrase a few days ago when I missed out on a piece of property that my instincts told my to grab while I had the chance, but the moment came and went like the smile of a beautiful woman through the window of a passing train... I was... a penny short and a minute too late - destiny, could it be?

But why would destiny play such games with us - that we find our-selves stumbled into a moment with our pants down - so to speak, why would she give us a glimpse of something that is beyond your reach - not just at that moment, but it will always be unattainable for you, because that is not your destiny and no matter how much you hope and dream and visualize yourself grabbing it, no matter how much power of the mind and energy of spirit you exert, that thing that you want will forever be a dream because destiny has made other plans for you... could it be.

Let’s say that a man - out of all the men the world, was born into the world  for no other purpose but to stand witness to an event... to be at a certain place at a certain time, perhaps to lend assistance in a horrible event - to save the life of one who has a greater purpose, to offer a kind smile or just to listen to a poor man's sad story and offer encouragement, to offer an old man a seat on a train or bus, to help a lonely old lady cross a street, to drop a dollar in a beggars cup, maybe this one man was chosen - out of all the men in the world, to write an article that would change the lives of other men, paint a work of art that would convince others of the greatness of God, introduce another man to the woman he will marry and have a child with that will go on to save the world... destiny... disguised as simple little moments that we never pay attention to and may never loose too much sleep worrying over.

But if destiny was that simple and all I had to do was step out the door and smile at a stranger passing by who was determined to go on a killing spree that day... but gave the world another chance because of my careless smile... how would I know that I am then free to do as I please with the rest of my life - now that I have fulfilled my destiny?

And what of these men the world calls ‘men of destiny’ that go on to achieve greatness despite their disadvantages, disabilities, lack of education and their unfortunate circumstances, Men that went on to build fortunes that were raised in poverty and surrounded by negativity, men that  would become liberators and great leaders with no knowledge of politics and no military training... is it destiny or their stubborn persistence and immovable determination.

I believe in destiny - that everything happens for a reason, that for every choice I make, destiny has chosen an outcome. Every path I take leads me to where I am meant to be - but I have to make those choices, I have to walk the path... I have to know what it is that I want and go find it.  I believe destiny offers each of us the opportunity to make our dreams come true - but many are not paying attention to those moments - the simple moments and many do not take advantage of the opportunities because many do not know what those opportunities are - but I also believe that we have to create our own moments and our own opportunities because creating an opportunity creates a new path that destiny must create, because destiny chooses the predetermined outcome for every choice we make, then she must create a new outcome every time I chose another option - if plan ‘A’ does pan out, then I will move to plan ‘B’.  And the more you try, with honorable determination and sincerity, you show destiny your intention and will and desire for that thing, and I believe destiny will help you achieve your goal.

Bret Lynch

"If you want a thing bad enough
To go out and fight for it,
Work day and night for it,
Give up your time and your peace and your sleep for it

If only desire of it
Makes you quite mad enough
Never to tire of it,
Makes you hold all other things tawdry
and cheap for it

If life seems all empty and useless without it
And all that you scheme and you dream is about it,

If gladly you'll sweat for it,
Fret for it, Plan for it,
Lose all your terror of God or man for it,

If you'll simply go after that thing that you want.
With all your capacity,
Strength and sagacity,
Faith, hope and confidence, stern pertinacity,

If neither cold poverty, famished and gaunt,
Nor sickness nor pain
Of body or brain
Can turn you away from the thing that you want,

If dogged and grim you besiege and beset it,
You'll get it!"

Author: 
Berton Braley

these faces

Experimenting with technique

pencil drawings - mixed styles

true...

At the end of the road

Where I want to be when it all goes to Hell.

It would be a little place hidden from the world, remote and hard to get to where social justice do-gooders and new world faggots have no business, need, nor desire to go, in a country that does not entangle itself in the affairs of other nations and prefers to be left alone, whose only dealing with other countries is in the interest of the growth of it’s economy.  This little place should already have a community - people who know the region and how to survive there without the help of the outside world - if I am going there then I will adopt their ways, I have no intention of forcing my ideas and beliefs on the natives... but if I am bringing something to help their community grow and prosper, should I be allowed to speak my mind and be left alone to live as I have chosen? 

There should be a water source and it would  be good to have access to the sea, good land for livestock and farming, forests and mountains, protection from neighboring countries and wildlife for hunting and streams and lakes for fishing.  Secluded and isolated and forgotten by the world...

Am I asking for too much... is there such a place left in the Americas... a few, actually.

At the end of the road.

A little village (literally) at the end of the road.  Founded some time in the mid 1960s, and named after the Half Breed liberator of Chile, Bernardo O’Higgens, It sits hidden from the world where the Southern Highway ends and between it and the tip of South America there is not much more but nature on the Chilean side of Patagonia

It has a population of 600 (maybe 700) people, the children of the founders and their children and others who have chosen to come.  The economy - what there is of it is based on tourism, Chileans and Argentinians and a few others coming to view the glaciers, to hike the mountains and camp, and for the fishing.  There are a few small hostels and hotels and cabanas for rent.  There are small ranches - cattle and sheep.  You can get there by car or fly in - the runway sits on the side of the small town.  There is a radio station - I speak Spanish but have no idea what the hell these people are saying - The Chilean dialect and accent sound poetic, but it is tough to understand. There is a school, some shops and a small military regiment - to keep Argentina from invading (it’s happened before... you know how socialist countries cam be...). But basically that’s it. There is no dentist, no doctor and no hospital - so it would be good to have a medical professional among our tribe... my skills only go so far. There is no super market, no hardware store, and no bank... no bank? No money... if you are traveling down there take cash, like I said the economy is practically non existent, these people are self-sufficient, they are strong and there mostly because they have chosen to be there.

This is rough and tumble country where the gaucho tradition lives on... Am I trading my cowboy hat for a beret... I already got one, but I think I’ll keep the cowboy hat... I’ll say this, those beret wearing mother-fuckers down there are tough.  The area is surrounded by hills and forests and lakes and rivers and there is fishing and hunting, there are bobcats, pumas, and huemul and mink.

Except for the land being un-farmable, the place is perfect for me and I could be quite content in Patagonia working my small ranch, forgotten by the world... I have been thinking of it for a long time now. This place is getting to the edge of the world and it does get very cold.  The houses and building here are made of wood - I would prefer a stone house but I have not seen any.  There is poverty here and the government even built little houses for some of the residents.  Governments being as they are they do require contributions (as it is called here), and those must be paid - taxes - now, being in a place where the economy is mostly tourism means in order for me to pay my share of the contributions I would have to find a way to make money off the land so I would have to put up a hotel and some cabanas to rent out, and I would have to continue to do business with the modern world - day-trading and brokering... but I basically want to be left alone - don’t know how much money can be made from the tourism and the cattle and sheep... but can only find out by spending more time there... ‘Option B’ is a farm further north... or becoming Russian... but I could just stay in Mexico... with my people... where I belong.

Russia just got 40 million citizens to participate in evacuation and safety drills in preparation for what might be war with the United States, they have never made a secret of their military strength and the fact that they can save close to 70% of their population if they went to nukes with the U. S.  - I won’t give a penny to fight a country that promotes Christianity, big traditional families and traditional gender roles, that tries to protect the young from homosexual propaganda, and is doing more to try to stop terrorist in the middle east... someone tell me who the good guys are again... because I’m having trouble with reality.  The United states is a country were the government runs psy-ops on its citizens, promotes division, allows abortion, has more people in prison than any other country, so many laws and restriction, licenses, permits, and regulations that will make your head spin, taxes up the ass.... does not give a damn if they go to nukes with the Russians and can (or will not) save its citizens, and you need permission to build a bunker in your back yard... insane... either unchain me my lord to burn it all down or allow me to walk away from it all in peace...

The Seekers

John Masefield

FRIENDS and loves we have none, nor wealth nor blessed abode,

But the hope of the City of God at the other end of the road.

 

Not for us are content, and quiet, and peace of mind,

For we go seeking a city that we shall never find.

 

There is no solace on earth for us--for such as we--

Who search for a hidden city that we shall never see.

 

Only the road and the dawn, the sun, the wind, and the rain,

And the watch fire under stars, and sleep, and the road again.

 

We seek the City of God, and the haunt where beauty dwells,

And we find the noisy mart and the sound of burial bells.

 

Never the golden city, where radiant people meet,

But the dolorous town where mourners are going about the street.

 

We travel the dusty road till the light of the day is dim,

And sunset shows us spires away on the world's rim.

 

We travel from dawn to dusk, till the day is past and by,

Seeking the Holy City beyond the rim of the sky.

 

Friends and loves we have none, nor wealth nor blest abode,

But the hope of the City of God at the other end of the road. 

 

 

A man and the mountain

I can’t remember the story exactly as it was told to me... 

but I’ll tell it like this...

A man heard the voice of God - and God said “go move that mountain...” the man looked to the distance and saw the mountain rising over the horizon... and he shook the voice from his head.  The next day as the man was working in his field, again he heard the voice of God - and God said “go move that mountain...” and the man questioning his own sanity now... shook the voice from his head.

The next day as the man was working in his field, three strangers appeared in the middle of his crop.  The man walked to the strangers and they stood in silence for a while and as the farmer was about to ask what the strangers wanted the one in front of the other two raised his arm and pointed to the mountain and said “go move that mountain.”

The farmer put down his tools and walked to the mountain, he looked it up and down and dug his feet into the ground, and he leaned into the mountain, and with every fiber of his being and all the faith in his heart - he pushed.

Every morning before the sun rose the man would make his way to the mountain and look it up and down, dig his feet into the ground... lean into it... and push.  With every fiber in his being and all the faith in his heart.  With all the strength he could force out of his body and all the passion of his soul... with all the will and determination of his mind... he pushed the mountain before him.  With grunts and groans and the howls of a madman, in between whispered prayers... he pushed... everyday before the sun came up until far after the sun went down and the stars came out... he pushed.

The farmer would make his way back home at night with a calm mind and a sore body. He ate a simple meal and rested - for the next day was another day of attempting to move the mountain -
“if only just to silence the voice in my head and keep the vision of strangers out of my field” he would tell himself before drifting off to sleep... but in a secret place in his heart, he wanted to move that mountain.

Days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months and the farmer had abandoned his field and his animals ran wild looking for food.  The farmers wife grew a small garden for the little food they had and was forced to sell what animals she could round up for money, she had to endure insults and jokes from the people in the village and her husband was now a punch-line, and as the story of the foolish farmer trying to move a mountain spread  to other villages, people would come around  to witness his fruitless efforts and throw rocks and insults at him... but the farmer pushed with grunts and groans and howls of a madman... in between whispered prayers... he pushed... and the months turned into a year... and the farmer pushed.

His back had become wider... his shoulders rounder... his hands were so rough now that he could no longer feel the gentle hands of  his wife... they only could recognize the stone edges of the mountain.  He stopped caring about himself and his hair grew out and his beard was unkept, he had forsaken the comfort of his bed, of his home, of the fire in his hearth. He was a man with a purpose, as foolish as it may seem, and though he had lost the respect of the people of the village, his life had a meaning  and he could not turn his back on it now - for it was all the honor he had left in the world.

One morning as the farmer was walking to the mountain he came upon the three strangers and they stood in silence for a while and before the farmer could ask what they wanted the one in front raised his arm and pointed to the mans field.  The man lowered his eyes in shame... and bowed his head in defeat... he turned around and returned to his field.  When the sun came out his wife looked out the window of their home and cried.  By the end of the day the farmer had replanted his crops and gathered up his lost herd... the weeds were dug up, his tools were cleaned and sharpened and he started the repairs to his crumbling roof. The villagers showed no mercy for the poor fool who tried to move the mountain for a year and their jokes and insults only became worse, and when the sun went down, the farmer, defeated by the world and his mind, betrayed by his faith and his heart, slept on the floor of his front room... alone.

The farmer was working in his field one day when he looked up and saw a crowd of strange people coming up the road and the people of the village carrying what they could on their backs - an army was coming, devouring what they could and leaving only the ashes of the towns they destroyed behind... the farmers wife looked at the rounded shoulders and the bruised hands of her husband and  then calmly packed a basket with all the food she could carry and blankets for the two. The farmer slung his quiver over his shoulder with his bow and they followed the villagers up the road... behind him he could see smoke rising from a village beyond his own... the invaders would soon reach his home.

The road they followed led them to the mountain, to a path up the noble ancient structure that led to a pass carved out by time through it - to a valley that would take them to the sea, but when they cam to the pass the crowd stopped in their tracks, for a boulder had fallen from the side of the mountain and blocked the way though to safety.  The women cried and the men cursed, some of the young men tried to climb up the side of the mountain but could not... they were trapped between a rock and an invading army. 

The farmer and his wife, who were walking at a gentle pace, made their way to the front of the crowd to the boulder.  One of the village elders said to the man “we have no time for your foolishness” to which the farmer responded to by shoving the elder into the crowd knocking the weeping, frightened villagers down.  The farmer looked at his wife and gently stroked her cheek with the back of his rough, callused hand and turned to face the giant rock... he looked it up and down and dug his feet into the ground... he leaned into it and with a heavy grunting sigh, he pushed at it... and it moved...  He took a step forward and the boulder took a step back... another step forward and the rock retreated and surrendered... and the crowed watched in silence and followed slowly behind the farmer one step at a time as he pushed the boulder back and out of the way to let the people through the pass, and when the last one was through the farmer pushed the boulder back into place to give the people time to get to safety. After  securing the piece of stone in tightly he turned to find the crowd had cleared a path for him and his wife, some women had brought them little bits of their food - bread and fruit for the couple... an old man had brought them a young lamb that he was carrying on his shoulders as a gift... the village elders could only offer their silence and the farmer and his wife, walking at a gentle pace, made their way through the parted crowd and led them into the valley.

Lonely are the brave

(I do not know the artist)

Three Faces...

(that can knock me on my ass...)

Stephanie Seymour

Caterina Murino

 Magali Amadei

Building our own Nation

 This was first posted as a comment under this post 

  Separation In Place  on April 20, 2015

“They are preserving their traditions, their faith, their customs and fashions in a society that is losing all of that. This then, working within the system but separate and against it, and for ourselves, is what we should be doing.”

But what are the traditions of this new society that we are fighting to preserve?

What are the rituals and the costumes and the believes we are bringing with us to pass down to our sons and our daughters?

How are we to dress our selves to distinguish our society from the heathen horde around us… that we can proudly stand apart from the rest… that we can distinguish our women and children from the unfaithful… what is the religion that units us and binds us… what is the one unquestionable belief of our culture that gives us common cause that strengthens us and is the fire of our unshakable will… 

What are we taking with us? we already know what we are leaving behind.

shall we have rituals of manhood that our sons must partake in – tests and challenges for them to overcome before they are given a name by the tribe – for it sounds like what you wish to build – a tribe… and I am all for it… a tribe… a clan of common cause… but the tribe can not pass down the traditions (whatever they may be) and its values to our sons if there are no mothers to give us sons… we will have to import our wives from other tribes… gather them up from women of tradition and values… western women are few… who are willing to leave the herd.

Will there be young warriors dancing around a fire as young girls chant and beat on drums songs to our ancestors to guide us in the direction of righteousness… will we gather in the park to hear the elders tell stories of the long crossing to find the promised land… will we erect statutes and holidays for those that fought for our freedom…

A long time ago in America a tribe was a Chiefs family – his wives and children and grandchildren with perhaps his brothers and sisters and their children and that tribe would be surrounded by other tribes lead by the chiefs cousins or uncles an other brothers or members of his family – you could travel from village to village without fear because you were surrounded by your family – your extended clan – united by blood and a common beliefs. and you were distinguished from other families or tribes of another clan by your dress and the way you wore your hair and even dialects… depending on how far away you strayed from your own clan into the territories of another far removed from your own that you would find yourself in more danger… but the clans and the tribes survived until they were invaded by those who wished to take away what was theirs and replace it with something new and modern and corrupt to the natural ways of the tribe…

I do not wish to impose my beliefs on anyone and I do not want anyone to force their beliefs on me – I do not wish to conquer a people and displace them or hide them behind a wall… but I have no problem purchasing land and paying tribute to one who will allow me to live the way I chose on my land and have my beliefs and simple way of life protected by my host country… if I am not harming anyone or trying to impose my ideas on those around me…I should just be left in peace. 

 

 Sundays in Deringerville - wish you were here!

I have read this post on “Separation in Place” a couple of times and it is something I have thought about many times before. I have even considered going to Russia – a big enough country where one could purchase land and build a village of like minded Christians… I have even considered Iran – a very conservative country where Christians and Jews are left alone and everyone lives in peace together – they are all for the most part conservatives – the capital is a beautiful city that glows under snow capped mountains, no crime, no feminism, no bullshit… they are a people of strong traditional values that simply want to be left alone – they are a peaceful people and I do believe if I wanted to go to Iran and buy some land and be left alone that I could…

 Tehran

Christmas in Tehran

but if you are building a tribe, Simon, we need a home of our own and a belief that binds us… and traditions to preserve… we need to believe that we were chosen to save the world from the chaos – with the passion of Zionists… we need to raise our children to believe that the tribe comes first – that they are the chosen ones, that they were born for something great. they have to have something to stand for, something to live for, something to fight for – this is as you said – the dangerous talk of madmen

I have too many ideas and thoughts running through my mind at the moment and perhaps I have not been able to articulate them as well as you might… but I wanted to get them down – as chaotic as they may be – many years ago I came across the works of W. G. Hill and Harry Schultz – and though I have no problem with living the libertarian gypsy lifestyle they write about – I do need and want a place to call my own in a country that wants me there. I think you are on to something here and I will promote your site – because I believe what you write should be spread to other men (and women) – but there are questions to be answered here… I am not looking for a manifesto – but something akin to a constitution – a resolution… a scripture equal and compatible to my Christian Values and traditional (Latin) beliefs.

I will admit – I am not much for groups… I don’t join protests or any organizations and I hold no licenses… I have never voted and have never registered to vote, in fact, I am not registered for anything – never had a permit for anything in my life and have never had a drivers license…. never… I do not have a cell phone – I do not twitterr and am not on facebook… never… I am not much for draconian institutions… I have always been this way. I come from a long line of military men but I chose not to join… and I am happy with that decision – I have much respect for those who have and sympathize for the ones that have come to the same conclusion as your self…

Thank you.

On this last trip back home I found a perfect place for our community.  I can't give out details right now but I can say that there is already a village there - a small community of traditional families, I am looking at purchasing land in this region and will be inviting others to join me - it wont be easy... we will be building everything ourselves from the ground up... It is in frontier country... it gets very cold there... but it is beautiful, remote, and far from the modern world... if we build it... will they come?

what we had it in us to accomplish

REVOLT...

Revolt against the modern world

create a big family

spend more time in nature

grow your own food

embrace tradition

celebrate your culture

defend your religion

Taking the long way home...

I will contact those I need to personally.

If things go silent here - I'm just gone home to 

take some rest.

E-mail shenanigans, lost friends and moving forward.

The Shenanigans

A few years back someone was pretending to be me... contacting friends online and finding people from my past and starting trouble.  When people from my past started writing me and mentioning my blog and reminding me of all the problems in their lives that apparently I am still the source of... I was a bit confused... because I was coming into the middle of a conversation with all of them - this was before I started using my real name on-line (but since the jig is up...).  I had to apologize for this faggots games that put a strain on some new friendships and brought people back into mu life that I had absolutely no desire to ever speak to again... and I let those from my past know just how I felt and told them that they had been hoodwinked... which just pissed them off even more... they wanted to believe I had gotten in touch with them... they refused  to accept that I want to have nothing to do with them all these years later and I was not interested in their lives and their problems... yes I had become a bigger ass-hole than before...

About four weeks ago the same thing happened again.

People where showing up out of the past that where coming in halfway through a conversation I never started with them... they mysteriously received a link that led them somehow to DF... they are for some reason just curious as to where I  live... and of course they were carrying the bitterness from the past... when I left home all those years ago... I had become the worlds biggest jerk... I didn’t care... my life was spiraling out of control - one failure after another, I was in debt, I was a drunk, and I was on a fucking rampage of self destruction... even as I went chasing after Diana.

It was all happening as before - was it the same faggot playing his games again?  I don’t know, but it felt like it was.  I sent out a simple massage to everyone - “I did not contact you and I do not want to contact you. Please do not e-mail me again.” I only read a couple of those e-mails - trashed the rest unopened just by looking at the name.  But I have had no reports from new friends and on-line acquaintances of strange e-mails from me... so that was a good thing.  I can speculate on who it is that is doing this... but why would that person waste time doing this if that person is now successful doing what they want to do... makes no sense... but that persons behavior in the past - when we were friends, makes me feel it might be who I think it is... It could be some one more recent that I pissed off... I piss people off - it happens... I’ve moved on and so should you... I hope everyone understands that all but five names on this website are real and those names no one gives a damn about, people that were in my life twenty years ago that no one in my life now knows or cares about... and I do state that the names of these women have been changed - and if I have not stated it... all these women’s names have all been changed... if it is a story about a woman I never slept with or had a relationship with, I may have slipped and not changed her name... but who cares - her fine reputation is intact... so is it a woman doing this... a jealous lover... don’t know... but things got stranger...

I began to have problems with my internet provider logging on, when I could  log on I could not get into my G-mail... and when I did get through I was on for a second and my service would shut off... this went on for a week and a half... it would let me stay on until I tried to log into the G-mail...  And I was getting messages of suspicious IP logins to my account... But Dagmar could log in from home... I let her figure out what was happening and I came to chase after the Nordic Renaissance girl in Mexico City...

When I go here there was a message waiting for me at check in from Dagmar - “You need to call me, Dags...” so I call home

She tells me I got another funny e-mail and I say from who... she says “you’re not going to like it, Boss...”

I say “give it to me straight baby doll...”

“I thought it was from someone related to Dominic Hernan...” and she goes silent waiting for my response...

I think that is strange and weird... as far as I know he had no relatives and left no one behind.

Dominic Hernan was a very good friend of mine and the leader of a very small circle of men I called friends, he was in the soldiering business and passed away recently... he was our brother... and I miss him - in the post “Never say never again” when I say burry another friend and loose my cool - that was in reference to him... and no... I am certain he left no one behind...

“Go on...” I say

She tells me the mail was from some one with the last name Hernan and she opens it up to see it is someone claiming to be the ex... now if you have read all of this babble here you will know that in my life there is only one ex... in the last twenty years all the women have just been to get my pito wet (toot-toot)... that will piss people off - but they know it’s true... so this person claims to be the ex - her name is Elsa... I say to Dags “Bullsit” - and she says - no really, that is what this says... I don’t doubt it... but I was saying that it is bullshit, this is not from her... trash it with the rest... but I ask what else does it say... and Dags tells me it says curious to know where you live...?

Right... just like the others... is someone after me...

I tell her to trash it... I never saw it personally...

Dagmar gets paid well to be suspicious of those I let into my life... she’s got a good gig going and does not want to loose that good thing by me going crazy over an e-mail from a woman that I let myself fall apart over... but very well played faggot - pretending to be her... that does push buttons you piece of shit... but... being here now...where I am with this girl... and my tribe... and my life where it is now... actually... no... now that I think of it... I don’t give a fuck... button pushed and life is good... but the strange continues... Dagmar has gotten very good at sniffing out fakes and frauds and trolls - I once made the mistake of reaching out to some one that Dags convinced  me with her proof that that person was not who they claimed to be... a man pretending to be a woman on one site or a woman pretending to be a man on another... either way, not who and what they claimed... so after I let Dagmar convince me why this could not be Elsa... which did not take much convincing... she got rid of it... without me ever seeing it... but she tells me that I am getting mails asking about Simon from names I do not know... Dagmar has access to that e-mail account but reads only mails not on a list of do not open... I trust her... I pay her so that I can trust her... and if she betrays that trust... I hope her father is as powerful as I think he is.

I can now get into the G-mail but I am in another city using a computer I had never put on-line before (which sucks now). 

Now suddenly people are asking about Simon - founder of the Iron Legion Blog   - Why.  Did something happen to Simon? That seems to be the question... and what do I know?

I only knew a couple of those people asking about Simon and I may have said too much in my response - I want to trust in the world and I  let my guard down because of that trust... but I am hoping that you are who you said you are... the others... I don’t know you and I don’t know why you are asking. 

Simon

Simon came out of nowhere with words and passion that would leave its mark on many of us.  He was a leader that many were waiting for and hoping for.  His words inspired and motivated many of us to act and find solutions to the problems we are facing in this modern world.  You only have to read the comments others posted on his site to see how he influenced people... he knew exactly what to say and how to say it... he listened to  your worries, your fears, your hopes, you frustrations and your anger and disillusionment with the world... he is a cult leader and a military leader waiting to happen... and I for one would follow him into the fires of chaos to make a better world - I have stated  that before and have no problem saying it again... and again, for I have not been given a reason to doubt in the man.

For a very long time I did not comment on the web and kept to my self here at The Deringer Files and I was on the verge of abandoning this modern world to loose myself once more in the underground - Fuck the modern world!

But... I went looking for others that felt as I did and that led me to Simons first article at ROK - and he had my interest, curiosity, and my attention... so I left a comment ( a comment is not worth leaving if it ain’t a long one), and long comments  I would leave there on his site - his words and everything he spoke of was everything I was feeling... I could only agree with everything... was this the voice in my head... who is this young man... and why has he come?

I do not believe in coincidence - and neither does Simon... everything happens for a reason and I had  to know  that reason - I believe in destiny... and all of this is destiny.

After a few more comments from me on his site - He sent me an e-mail... and our friendship begins, and it is a friendship.  We speak of life... toss ideas back and forth... stories and books we would like to write... tales of our adventures and tribes and villages in far off lands... normal stuff like that... but Simon is in Europe and I in the Americas.  Simon’s home is there and  I  belong here, and because I am here, and because I can no longer run from destiny, I found the inspiration to build my tribe and do here what Simon was doing over there.

I do not know much of the tribe Simon was building in Europe - it is not my place to know.  I gathered my tribe but only mention to Simon what it was like - not what we were actually doing - as tribal leaders we must keep these things to ourselves... he knows this and I know this... But I did make it clear to him that whatever he did, where ever he went with his tribe - I wanted in and he would keep me afloat on the details of the community he wished to build.

I began to write down my thoughts on tribalism and separating ourselves from the modern world and Simon was kind enough to post those writing on his site... and our friendship grew, as a friendship  can grow over the internet - but our thoughts were in sync, more than outsiders will know we are in sync.  My writings began to shift in the direction of what I had written for Iron Legion here at this site. I felt obliged to do so since I was getting many views coming from Iron Legion - and they still come, they are fewer, I suspect because of the current stillness, but I get about thirty hits per week from The Iron Legion Blog... and now, suddenly, inquiries on the whereabouts of Simon...

Is this all connected ?

It must be - because there are no coincidences... and everything is connected.

For those of you who may not know - Simon is in the soldiering business, he made no secret of it.  He served his country and then turned around and sold those services for big money.  Is our friend Simon missing?

Well... he shut down his twitter - but if he is off soldiering, he can’t be twittering and face-booking... common sense and logic will tell you that... and there is no time for updated posts if he is out in the field where there is no internet... is our friends Simon missing... I can only hope for the best for my friend - did  he find those he was looking for to build his community away from this chaos we call the modern progressive world... I hope so... I hope he is building a better world that we can use as an example.

These sudden inquires about our friend... the appearance of those from my past... my problems on-line... massive hits from Russia on a daily basis which I do mot believe are from bots... and strangers looking for answers - whether they be sincere or not, is all connected - why and how, I do not know... but something is up... something is going to happen... I can feel it... and I can sense that you feel it too... this is the paranoia... that we all know... but that paranoia keeps us a step ahead doesn’t it...

Moving Forward

I know men who want to write but they are concerned about things like this... and about maybe disappearing... I know web-sites come and go and some do not stick around for too long from men that are looking for the truth and those that want to share the truth.  My friends don’t want me writing this blog - they never did... and they are concerned with the direction I am taking... but it is something I feel I must do... Cris says I need to keep a low profile and slip back into that other world... but I smacked him hard on the back of the head because mister low profile’s picture is now on the internet with his Filipina actress girlfriend... my gang isn’t too thrilled about my blogging but I was doing it before they came to be - but they have no problem with me sharing my writing for them - I write letters to my tribe on a regular basis - things we must work on and learn and the direction we are heading, and how to better ourselves, and these writing are looking for a home, they do not really belong here among the poetry of my unrequited love and the tales of my disastrous affairs - and I am very inclined to putting up a new site for those writings and picking up where our friend Simon has left off - though I do not have his words nor would I know how to use them - I will give it my best shot. I will also be contacting others, writers and those who contributed to his site through their comments to participate in this new venture... until our friend returns.

There are men out there that were part of his tribe - his Legion... that know more than I do, that are closer to the man then I, that should be posting a statement on the issue, at  the very least. Someone out there  in a position of influence among Simon’s tribe should post a comment on the Iron Legion Blog... as far as I am concerned, Simon owes us nothing... and it is not like him not to respond to someone questioning his motives as he did so here:

http://falfn.com/CrusaderRabbit/?p=26614

But what does he have to respond to? There has only been one comment on his site about the stillness on that blog -

“Altamont says:   

May 6, 2016 at 3:08 pm

Is this blog still “dangerous” or has it been neutered?”

You all need to direct your concerns over there... leave your comments and continue the discussion.

I always say that the enemy needs to worry when we do go silent... our friends do not need to fear the dark. Also keep in mind that if there was something that should be known - I might not be the one to say it... nor would I.

Good luck to you my friend wherever you are and we will continue this thing you started until you get back.

I don't know if this helps anyone or eases any of your suspicions - this is all I can do...

about e-mails - everything seems to be working better but I am in Mexico City.  for some reason people prefer to send me e-mails rather than leaving me comments - I understand it... I get e-mails from people seeking advice or council... some need someone just to hear them out... some want to tell me off... some just write to say that they enjoy reading my site... but my absolutely very favorite e-mails are from people that just drop me a line that says "thank you" - and to them I say... you are very welcome and thank you...

Oh... and thank you Russia for all the hits - who ever you are.