"Every organized [patriarchy] works overtime to contribute its own brand of misogyny." - Robin Morgan Considering the huge flap over the Halloween-influenced hanging of Sarah Palin in effigy, I wonder what today's social circles would think of the real thing -- the actual hanging of an innocent female -- except that in this case the murderers were the politically and socially elite ones, and the female victim the scapegoat for those men and women who had come before her and an inhibiting omen for those who would come after her. It happened on a July afternoon in 1889. The following is excerpted from the Preface to my historical novel manuscript, presently in an edit iteration, The Sweetwater Conspiracy: the Legend of Cattle Kate. In the summer of 1889, during the settling–up of the American west, a sensational news story drifted off Wyoming's high plains, making international headlines, and shaking the resolve of the westward pioneering spirit. The story told of th

During nearly three years in the Nevada state prison, I completed six handwritten manuscript drafts of novels, and had begun a seventh prior to my release on parole in June, 2007. While in prison I was not allowed to draft the books on electronic media, which I am now in the process of doing. They are large manuscripts (more than 250 thousand words each) and still require several iterations of editing to condense and organize to publishable construct, and some research remains that could not be done in prison. Six of the novels comprise an anthology that I call “ Sophy’s Way: Parallel Worlds of the Moon ” in reference and reverence to the lost goddess Sophia, the Goddess of Wisdom, whose essence and presence saved my life and, yes, my very soul from certain death during my prison time. The underlying theme of the novels concerns man’s inherent cruel and duplicitous nature, but primarily the books deal with the lost intimate relationship between immanent sexuality and transcendent divin

The following discourse, from my novel manuscript Moon Shadows: the Revelation , in edit, is a precocious girl's heartfelt address to an eclectic group of goddesses, humans, and aliens ensconced on a Wyoming ranch, who are engaged in an effort to overthrow and reconstruct the United States government and its constitution and laws. The little rebel is trying to express her discomfort with the prejudices, the oppression, the malicious overreaching and power mongering of patriarchal authority prevalent in the existing governance. Her statement is a simple essay on human values of good and evil, right and wrong, justice and injustice, and whether we humans know who we are and where we're going. The group is at a party – an outdoor dinner and dance with a western theme featuring live music from the Alabama band, which has just taken a break, and the raucous, somewhat inebriated, crowd has fervently implored her to speak to them, having been highly amused by her previous nationally t

We are born into this world with no expectations, no hopes, no desires, except a certain hunger and the innate desire to survive – with perhaps a related fear. We are not conscious even of our own existence. As our brain becomes active, receiving, perceiving, we gradually become aware of ourselves and the plethora of the world around us, and our mindless innocence (the remnants of bliss?) begins to fade away, replaced with the first archons who will rule our lives from then on. Because of the archons, we will search in vain during the span of our earthly lives for happiness, repeatedly deluding ourselves into believing we've found it, only to realize, sooner or later, that we were wrong. It is, I believe, impossible for the human being, as we exist in this world, to find true felicity. And anyone who makes the claim that he is truly happy, is a liar living in one of those delusional states of denial. We can find love, but we can never find felicity, a term partly derived from, or a