In my novel The Revolutionary, the escapees three attempt to rob a little mini mart sort of store soon on their way prompting Weldon to flee them incredulous at their stupidity. They, the couple of anarchists so in love, and committed to the cause, plus feeling betrayed because Weldon is trying actually to escape, not continue a rampage at that point, try to kill him.
He keeps running to read and hear later they are killed in a shoot out.
Makes me feel good to have captured typical reality.
I do want people to buy my book. i picked it from my archives to publish because it is timely, Damnit.
I got the knife and it pleases me because I got it from scheming in my brain and speech to trade.
What To Make With Your Blade: a primer on survival at the edge. Cave man life. Life in the ancient forest. What stands between you and starvation, when all you have is a knife. How to make a bow and arrow from trees vines.
Why you need a spear. I don’t think these are sentences, but are just titles inspired by my knife, the BenchMade Nimravus Tanto.
The name of my knife makes it sound like it is a disease.
Now I need a spear and a sword, and more guns with instructions on how to make gun powder like they do in Blood Meridian, a great book of sad literature by Cormac McCarthy who must be depressed.
I stopped reading anything by him when The Road came out.
I have around here on a panel the universal list. A knife, some potato eyes, a permanent match, the tent…
That isn’t the list. I’ll find it since i thought it was so important i wrote it on a piece of wood with a drawing to make it arty and therefore desirable to save.
Eddy Bauer is a brand name that the artist writer Hemmingway, advanced in his book For Whom The Bell Tolls. Ernest.
James Jones was known to always have a knife on him, and have a thing about them buying and collecting really good ones. One of his characters survives a diving experience caught in a net because he can cut his way out.
I am not strong enough at all anymore to do much with my knife, which now I love for its beauty, simplicity, and as company.

Damn Dust
I forgot to explain Dust. Well okay, since I was writing to the title I have to tell you short and quick that dust in the darkrooms I could get made, put together, or borrow, ruined my career as a photographer because it, Dust was always flawing my prints. Modern photography with a digital camera and a computer making all of it like Polaroid, Mr. Land dreamed and better, is reviving my hopes and dreams, though not yet have I really found a great photo paper.