David Mark Brown

Writer. Novelist. Redneck. Granola. Raised on a Texas cattle ranch and schooled at the U of Montana (Berkeley of the Rockies), I am the world’s most self-proclaimed redneck granola and author of optimistic-dystopian dieselpunk, sci-fi thrillers and young adult literature.

Story is the Only Way to Live

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Poe's the Spectacles by Byam Shaw
Poe's the Spectacles by Byam Shaw

By the age of twelve I can remember imagining that my life was a movie.  Sometimes I would take several cuts of a simple course of events like jumping down from my bunk bed, moving around a chair, swooping a binder off of the desk, spinning and then opening the door until I did it just right.  Then I would click off the camera in my head and think, “that was a good shot.”

Besides making me crazy, this sort of imagination created in me a sense of life as story.  Still, I think this is really the only sort of life there is.

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Hemp Pants Finally Found, Loved

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Orvis Montana Hemp JeansIn my last blog I chided hippies and granolas for not having the business sense to provide the world (or at least me) with a swell pair of hemp pants 34X34.  Finally I found my savior, well within the bosom of hippie-womping hicks and sensible country folk, Orvis Clothing.

Orvis is the only clothing store with a website that sells hemp pants in size 34×34 for men.  I know.  A powerful statement made by a man wearing cannabis crafted clothing, but true.  Nowhere else could I find my coveted pants.  Orvis had two colors to chose from in 3 different inseams and several waist sizes.

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Where are the Money-Grubbing Granolas?

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How can all we progressive, earth-friendly do-gooders ever expect anything we believe inHemp plant, credit: Hendrike to happen if none of us can learn how to leverage free market economies?  If all granolas are either anti-social, self-righteous and/or too touchy-feely (interpret flakey) to run a business, how the hell am I supposed to find a good pair of hemp cargo pants that fit me?

If I can’t find a good pair of hemp cargo pants that fit me, how am I supposed to rant to strangers on the bus about how evil cotton is?  If I can’t rant then how will I devise the next clever and rankling debate point to slay the slovenly, money-grubbing, truth-ignoring participants of our downward-spiraling global economy?

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