Start of a New Book

The last blog entry was the final chapter in the saga of the life of a winner. The book's title, had you not already figured it out for yourself, is, "How to Create Your Own Lottery and Rig The Outcome to Your Favor." If the number of readers who've requested a true novelesque version of the book increases to an annoying rate, then I will work with my staff of highly-trained Happy Buddha figurines to collate the blog entries into a meaningful storyline, such as only they can divine, and provide the book for you, the reader, to stock on your dusty bookshelves at home or store on your electronic textual pacifier.

@}-,-`- @}-,-`- @}-,-`-

THE START OF A NEW BOOK - TITLE: "Red-Hot and Blue"

@}-,-`- @}-,-`- @}-,-`-


Fact: James Sawyers was born in Ireland about 1710. He came to America in the mid to late 1730s.

Fact*: PERSONAL HISTORY OF COL. JOHN SAWYERS.

"John Sawyers was born in Augusta County, Virginia, soon after his parents landed from England, 1745. His parents were English—the name being decidedly English. We suppose that his father was Sampson Sawyers. We find from the Annals of Augusta County, Va., by Waddell, that at the County Court in Staunton, Va., October, 1780, this passage:
'Sampson Sawyers' colored girl Viola sentenced to be hanged on the 1st of March, 1781, for burning her master's residence.'**
"We know but little of this Sawyers family, but we are of the opinion that there were but very few children in the family. Nancy Sawyers, who married James Crawford, and may be found in the Crawford History in this History, is supposed to be a sister, and Ruthie Peterson was another sister who came with him when he located in Knox County, Tennessee, and lived on a part of his farm on Big Flat Creek. Her husband's name was William Peterson, who died in 1818 and is buried in the Washington Church Cemetery.
"In person, Colonel Sawyers was fully six feet in height, weighing in the neighborhood of two hundred pounds. His complexion was fair, had bright red hair and possessed the traditional long red whiskers characteristic of the Sawyers family. Withal, he was a commanding figure."

[* from: Family History of Col. John Sawyers and Simon Harris, and Their Descendants, compiled by Dr. Madison Monroe Harris, a Great Grandson of Col. John Sawyers and a Grandson of Simon Harris]
[** Full passage from Chronicles of the Scotch-Irish Settlement in Virginia, Volume I, AUGUSTA COUNTY COURT RECORDS. ORDER BOOK No. XVII. FEBRUARY 18, 1780: "Called Court on Violet, a negro slave of Sampson Sawyers. for feloniously burning her master's dwelling house on the night of the 4th inst. Guilty--to be hanged by the neck, &c., on 4th of March next at or near town of Staunton at 12 o'clock at noon, and after she is cut down, that her head be severed from her body by the neck and stuck upon a pole in the public place near Staunton. Adjudged value, £1,800."]

Hello there. I'm a real descendant of a pioneer man and a pioneer woman, two people who married, had children and settled more than once on the frontier of the expansion of European settlers on the North American continent. Through my veins flows the desire to explore new territory, and fight for what's rightfully mine, whether by thought of Divine Intervention or a combination of testosterone and peer pressure.

I look a lot like one of my ancestors. No doubt about it. At this point in my life, I don't have immediate plans to expand his heritage. So be it.

In these genes, what of him is actively living and breathing? I did not join my fellow men in battle, kill the previous holders of the land or treat other humans as property. Do any of those desires reside in my thoughts? If so, in what form?

Today, my ears are burning. I am a man. I know that. Testosterone is making me feel like a raging bull today. Although I am an overweight, middle-aged guy, I feel like I'm 30 again. My thoughts at this point are simple: "I want a woman."

Some men have a desire to build empires. Some men have a desire to own big trucks or drive fast cars. Our testosterone-filled grip on life shows itself in many ways.

I was eight or nine the first time I played doctor with a girl. Both of us instinctively knew we had a desire for the other, even though puberty had not caught up with us. We kissed when we were nine.

I have told that story before. Let me tell you a new one.

But first, I'll ask you again, what is monogamy? My previous incarnation told you about how two people can have a lifelong relationship if they put friendship before money. They can even be good lovers.

What about desire? Is there really such a thing as civility when desire is so much more interesting than how to hold your fork at the table or how to greet one another if you're from two different cultures?

I am not civil today. No, fuck that. I am the dreaded bull in a china shop, tired of tiptoeing through stacks of precious ceramic shapes.

I'll put it more plainly. The world is full of so many timid and scared people who have been brainwashed to put civility above all else that the world is truly mine for the taking. I can scatter the sheep with a single roar.

I roar with laughter but others think it's intimidating because they're scared to lose their vested interests, which should be obvious to them is nothing more than the emperor's new sartorial elegance.

What the hell are they thinking?! Were their parents lemmings? Are they living in a cattle yard, ready to be slaughtered?

Why have children if all you're going to do is turn them into well-behaved automatons?

I want a woman. But not just any woman. I want a real woman, one who's not afraid to take a chance on something new. One who's got nothing to lose. Nothing to gain or everything to gain, I don't care. One who's willing to lose it all. Otherwise, why the hell should we keep on living? I sure don't want to be my last incarnation, whose only solution to success was to curl up and die. WTF.

I retired from my last job because I knew where that destiny was leading me. I felt my manliness maturing into a mountain of strength and the only way I wanted to celebrate was to find a good woman (or two or three) with whom I could wallow and enjoy the spoils of victory. However, my misguided youth led me to believe that civility was important above all else. I made myself crazy with desire. I pursued the wrong women. I wooed the timid sheep that I was used to being around when I was younger. You know the ones - the high collars and sweet smiles - because I didn't know any better.

Well, la di fuckin' da. I ain't a shepherd. I don't want no flock of "we're afraid to think for ourselves so we'll follow you around." I want ba-a-a-d. And I want it real good.

My old gang (and yeah, they don't get into all this reincarnation crap - they see me for who I really am), they're always willing to hook me up. But it's not that kind of action I'm after. I'm not the anonymous sex type.

I'm still part of my old self. I'm tired of living this life. But it ain't life itself I'm tired of. I'm tired of timidity. I'm tired of towing the line cause we gotta worry about what the neighbors think. Are you kidding me? Have you seen my neighbors? If they're the ones I've gotta worry about, then I might as well be lobotomized and march to my government job with them. Well, except for that one foxy 30-something single woman down the street who waves at me whenever I take a jog in a sweaty T-shirt and shorts. If I'm appealing to her in that condition, then why am I sitting here in front of this laptop all cleaned up and dressed in nice business clothes? lol

I'm tired of apologizing for being a guy. Men and women can run their own companies that cater to church-goers and conformists all they want. I ain't part of their crowd.

I've paid my dues. I've conformed to my family's dreams and desires. I gave them the first half of my life. Now it's time to be me. Time to look at that beautiful brunette with the icy blue-gray eyes and tell her that yeah, she IS a curvy woman. I can see that from a mile away. So why are we wasting time talking? Time to let the real me out of the bag. Time to put all that goody two shoes Boy Scout crap in the garbage and hit the road where my buddy, Destiny, has been patiently waiting for me to catch up (I admit I'll miss some of this old stuff piled up around me but not all of it, that's for sure).