In January of 2007, I left my corporate job, packed my dog and my guitar in a 2005 Sportman Sportster Trailer, and began my year and a half journey on the road. When I left, I had no set schedule or map. I kept many journals. This Tales From The Road blog is excerpts taken from an online blog I kept during that journey. Every few weeks, updates will be posted to this blog. They will not necessarily be in chronological order.read more
Fear will do that. Hopelessness will do that. When fear is so great that hopelessness becomes desperation, apathy gives way to revolution.
– Linda Dresnick
Excerpt from mayoral campaign speech
Veiled by bastions of volcanic ash, deep in the womb of the lush American desert, the most advanced civilization conspires to the common cosmic good and the survival of the human race. The rewards of evolution, theirs to reap. How my mundane fortune landed me in that golden paradise, worlds away from the money-mongers and city worms, is the story of The Revolution.
Where middle-class, American housewives stare idly out windows, daydreaming about the lives their neighbors might be living; where those neighbors sit in front of florescent daytime soaps, burning into their synapses, jealousy cocooning within them; where teenagers masturbate ferociously and try every type of drug or video game to find meaning, or a means to pass the time; where small children play, eat and dream blissfully unaware; where fathers and husbands and those who are both rush off to work, just to get away from it all; where the adult entertainment complex, Jake’s Palace, prepares to open its doors, despite the protests, in the small town of Randolph, Massachusetts, David Fenton stands first in line.
Fenton believes he is his own man. He doesn’t know any other man who can claim him. He knows two things of the illusive ghost he calls his father. He was a military man. He rode a Harley.
Fenton’s dream is to be just like his hero, Arty-The-One-Man-Party, social critic and famed talking head of pop radio.
Warrior of spirit
Love be your spear
Awareness your bow.
Warrior of spirit
Take aim when you feel
Forgetting all that you know.
It was in the time we call The Moon of New Wind that Big Mind allowed me to see The Great Renewal. Like wildfire raging across the plains of my ancient Cheyenne cousins, this renewal will bring much death and destruction before the light shines, but when the light shines, there will be a joy throughout the cosmos never known to man, The Great Spirit, or even Big Mind.
Frank Perce was not an unassuming man. His Scottish accent was pleasant. His words, direct and certain (or as he would say, “sher-tehn”). It is not the case, as has been widely reported, that the Craft family introduced me to Perce, though they did in fact recruit him for the campaign. I first ran into Frank Perce in Thailand where I had been dispatched by my father’s ministry to investigate reports that Pastor David Svusta was abusing his position, as well as the children at the Kuhn Kon Mission just north of Chaing Rai. And, though I had been asked to simply investigate the matter and report back to my father, I could not contain my outrage. Having just completed my Marine Corps tour of duty in South America, where I’d become known as Ardi Gora (Big Friend) to the tribal members, and where the things I witnessed changed me forever, the timing was ripe.
While he made “use” of the children, his wife got daily massages, feet washings and, when not comfortably lounging in her air-conditioned palace, fannings from a young girl who she called “Nitnoy Marie”. My father would have preferred I arrange for the two of them to go back to the states to be reprimanded, expelled from the ministry. I turned them over to the Thai authorities.
Perce was an attorney for Human Amnesty of The Americas sent to represent the Svusta’s, arguing that international law did not allow for U.S. Citizens to be tried by the Thai court system for alleged offenses on NGO property.
“They say you Scotts can drink,” I hollered at him as he dismounted. He requested allowance to interview all of the staff and locals regarding the Svusta’s time at the mission. Instead, I suggested he and I take an elephant ride along the Yang Mi River to discuss the matter.