January 29, 2025 “Sabrina Cowgirl Extraordinaire,” is published.
The seasons were four and very dependable. Each had a call from a bird or native animal that roamed the land. Cowboys carried their gear selfishly and often were more interested in moving on than causing any trouble. No one noticed the small, framed cowgirl that often bossed the guys around.
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Originally posted on Amazon’s Kindle Vella, this story is now shared here to preserve its essence and to invite readers into a world where the past intertwines with the present. Nature remembers our history and ancestors, whispering their tales through the rustling leaves and flowing rivers, and sometimes, we are gifted with stories that deserve to be remembered and treasured for generations.
In the summer of 2021, a story took shape as I gazed over the late summer pool, the sunlight glinting off its surface, and was inspired by visions of three characters: Sabrina, an adventurous spirit with a heart full of wild love; Colin, a rugged soul bound to the land, wrestling with his past; and Hawk, a storyteller who weaves their lives together with his words.
This tale, born from the wind, captures life beyond the present—a romance amidst changing customs in the deep-rooted wild west, a place where love, loyalty, and the relentless passage of time challenge the very essence of who we are.
The captivating realm of Novella storytelling, rich with emotion and steeped in myth, beckons us to explore its depths and uncover its profound beauty.
“Let me tell you… don’t you look at those illustrations too long, because they’ll come alive, and they’ll tell you stories.”
~Rod Steiger is The Illustrated Man (1969)
Shane Enholm talked tonight about the history of tattoo machines. He also shared he was a young punk influenced by many of the same individuals of the early punk scene as I. From Steve Human helping him to print up his large posters, to Darby Crash and Shame Williams (the Rock & Roll Bank Robber) whose wife led him into being a bank robber serving for fucking 10 years at San Quentin, from ages 18 to 30 years old.
My home in the San Fernando Valley holds many treasures and ‘Nathan’s Tattoos and Piercings’is a shining star. Right off of Sherman Way and Topanga Canyon Blvd. is a well rooted history which amplifies art and music. An approachable hub or community of many distinctive individuals dappling in the world of skin illustrations and beyond.
As the fires burn around the Valley amongst my beloved Verdugo and Santa Monica Mountain ranges, a helpful refuse is amongst this grip of psychological terror and fear.
Yet regardless an honest tattoo artist tells his story. The focus was not on technique but on the machines used in the tattoo artist’s world.
The tools of trade and history was the discourse this evening.
I told Nathan,
“I always focused on the images and my feelings when getting a Tattoo not the machine doing the work.”
Tonight, I got to see, appreciate, and understand the technology or machines being passed around. A full house as machines were overseen and passed from hand to hand like gold or precious items.
Shane highlighted his discourse by saying that when someone fucking gets a tattoo the pain needs to be experienced. That each tattoo is like a form of magic. And it does not matter if it is your first or after many, each is unique and changes your life after the episode in your life of getting it. I see it as a time and place in your life. It feels magical! You dig?
Recently my son and his friend went into Nate’s to get their first tattoos. It was on a dare from me because their birthdays are so close together in December. I never knew they would follow through with the crazy old lady’s offer. But they did. I got another too.
This is when Nathan invited me to this event. And I am so happy to have followed him up on it. I almost gave up due to the fires but there was a strange sense of continuity of a group of individuals being fearless together tonight.
The ghost echoes of those who I have known within the realms of this art form and music scene were there, whispering persistent memories that lingered in the air. Those living and dead, their spirits intertwined with the melodies that filled the night.
Like many of us tonight, they were sharing a common bond in this world of time and place, a connection forged through shared experiences and emotions, just like receiving a tattoo that permanently marks our journey.
It is a fucking history that keeps giving, shaping our identities and enriching our stories with depth and meaning; this is what we do as storytellers of our lives, weaving together individual narratives into a larger tapestry that celebrates resilience, creativity, and the unique threads that bind us all.
A gathering around pizza and irresistible fudge. A warm community or hub of brave souls under the full moon and Venus.
“The odors of perfume were fanned out on the summer air by the whirling vents of the grottoes where the women hid like undersea creatures, under electric cones, their hair curled into wild whorls and peaks, their eyes shrewd and glassy, animal and sly, their mouths painted a neon red.”
