I drive a Ford truck and have never in my life desired to watch cows. They're really quite boring, stupid, and stinky. (The business school at the university where I went to college had its parking lot butted next to the school's cow pasture.)
In your work, aren't you forced to spend at least some time riding some bull... yourself? Maybe you've got something to talk about with those cowpokes after all.
All the real cowboys I know are of an indeterminate age somewhere past 40, had minor brushes with the law, are mostly gentlemen in the rough, usually have gray or grizzled hair, and don't have anything to do with rodeos because they're too busy working ... or drinking beer.
Now we goatherds tend to be short, really cute, have wings and cute shoes. ... We're much more interesting than cowboys.
And Bill E. Goat wants to know if you're interested in The Goat Riders of the Purple Sage, a revival of the real west in the style of writers of a bygone era in publishing.
Now, in my expert opinion, that means it's probably filled with improbably events and unintentionally funny dialogue.
Oh, the high hawk knows where the rabbit goes, and the buzzard marks the kill, But few there be with eyes to see the tall men riding still. We hark in vain on the speeding train for an echo of hoofbeat thunder, And the yellow wheat is a winding sheet for cattle trails plowed under.
Hoofdust flies at the low moon's rise, and the bullbat's lonesome whir Is an echoed note from the longhorn throat of a steerin the days that were. Inch by inch, time draws the cinch till the saddle will creak no more, And they who were lords of the cattle hordes have tallied their final score.
This is the song that the night birds sing as the phantom herds trail by Horn by horn where the long plains fling flat miles to the Texas sky. And this is the song that the night birds wail where the Texas plains lie wide Over the dust of a ghostly trail where the phantom tall men ride.
-- Tall Men Riding by Omar Barker, once, years ago president of Western Writers of America
I live in Denver and every year Husband and I drive the young-uns up to Cheyenne, WY to "The Granddaddy of Them All" of rodeos, Cheyenne Frontier Days.
All I have to say is be careful, you may find yourself liking PBR.
The article you linked to from the Gothamist mentioned PETA showing up. I immediately imagined them showing up in Cheyenne and almost fell off my chair laughing.
It's always fun to see people get introduced to rodeo cowboys. My dad was a bullrider. My husband was also. Two of my three sons are roughstock riders. The third I breathed a sigh of relief with. He didn't want to rodeo. He, instead, joined the army. Breathed a sigh of relief too soon it appears.
I rode wild cows and bucking horses for three years and was the first woman to ride at the Miles City and Rapid City Bucking Horse sales.
I can say without a doubt, it is a thrill like none other. Second might be watching the best compete against the best.
One thing about rodeo cowboys, they always have lots of material for writers. Makes the job so much easier.
Go out and enjoy. Lucky NYC. Yes, hip pocket appreciation is pretty nice also.
8 comments:
I drive a Ford truck and have never in my life desired to watch cows. They're really quite boring, stupid, and stinky. (The business school at the university where I went to college had its parking lot butted next to the school's cow pasture.)
yeee-haw! Now there's a profession that takes a lot more courage than trying to get published!
In your work, aren't you forced to spend at least some time riding some bull... yourself? Maybe you've got something to talk about with those cowpokes after all.
All the real cowboys I know are of an indeterminate age somewhere past 40, had minor brushes with the law, are mostly gentlemen in the rough, usually have gray or grizzled hair, and don't have anything to do with rodeos because they're too busy working ... or drinking beer.
Now we goatherds tend to be short, really cute, have wings and cute shoes. ... We're much more interesting than cowboys.
And Bill E. Goat wants to know if you're interested in The Goat Riders of the Purple Sage, a revival of the real west in the style of writers of a bygone era in publishing.
Now, in my expert opinion, that means it's probably filled with improbably events and unintentionally funny dialogue.
Oh, the high hawk knows where the rabbit goes,
and the buzzard marks the kill,
But few there be with eyes to see the tall men riding still.
We hark in vain on the speeding train for an echo of hoofbeat thunder,
And the yellow wheat is a winding sheet for cattle trails plowed under.
Hoofdust flies at the low moon's rise, and the bullbat's lonesome whir
Is an echoed note from the longhorn throat of a steerin the days that were.
Inch by inch, time draws the cinch till the saddle will creak no more,
And they who were lords of the cattle hordes have tallied their final score.
This is the song that the night birds sing as the phantom herds trail by
Horn by horn where the long plains fling flat miles to the Texas sky.
And this is the song that the night birds wail where the Texas plains lie wide
Over the dust of a ghostly trail where the phantom tall men ride.
-- Tall Men Riding by Omar Barker, once, years ago president of Western Writers of America
ummm i meant improbable.
I live in Denver and every year Husband and I drive the young-uns up to Cheyenne, WY to "The Granddaddy of Them All" of rodeos, Cheyenne Frontier Days.
All I have to say is be careful, you may find yourself liking PBR.
The article you linked to from the Gothamist mentioned PETA showing up. I immediately imagined them showing up in Cheyenne and almost fell off my chair laughing.
hot damn, I have never wanted so much to be in NYC!
(if you get a chance, try to get a backside view of those bullriders. Trust me.)
*snickers softly*
It's always fun to see people get introduced to rodeo cowboys. My dad was a bullrider. My husband was also. Two of my three sons are roughstock riders. The third I breathed a sigh of relief with. He didn't want to rodeo. He, instead, joined the army. Breathed a sigh of relief too soon it appears.
I rode wild cows and bucking horses for three years and was the first woman to ride at the Miles City and Rapid City Bucking Horse sales.
I can say without a doubt, it is a thrill like none other. Second might be watching the best compete against the best.
One thing about rodeo cowboys, they always have lots of material for writers. Makes the job so much easier.
Go out and enjoy. Lucky NYC. Yes, hip pocket appreciation is pretty nice also.
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