Page 13 of The Cowboy's Cabaret

Art became my secret, something I did in the late hours of the night, without judgmental eyes. While I realize now my dad was an abusive prick and middle school sucks for everyone, I still feel incredibly protective over my art and I share it with virtually no one.

A younger, more hopeful me hoped I could’ve done more with it. Shit, there was even a time I let a friend use my art for his first tattoo. That was both a mind fuck and the coolest thing ever. Since then, I draw a mix of art in neo and traditional styles similar to the tattoos I’ve got. There was a time where I tried to bust out some kitchen table tattoos, but honestly it’s not for me.

In a perfect world, I could find something to do with my creations, but I’m not there yet. Especially not with perpetual shitstorm facing Jasper as he manages the orchard and all the psychological weight of keeping this place a float. I can’t let this shit blow up in his face, especially since he would fully take the blame of something far out of his control. I sink further into the soft brown leather couch facing my fireplace, thinking of all the things to be done this week, when all I want to do is draw.

Not too long after I moved here, Uncle Stone was in a really fucked up accident leaving him with a below-the-elbow amputation of his left arm. He’s had a hard time keeping up with the more physical tasks of the farm, leaving much of it to Jasper.

Jasper loves this farm and what it means to his family more than anything, but it’s clear in the years since he’s taken over, the responsibility is heavy and he doesn’t carry it well. The pressure is self-imposed. Stone only wants his kids to be happy, but Jasper sees the farm as do-or-die and he’s the only one who can do. So while I don’t feel the same loyalty to this place Jasper does, I’m in no rush to flee it all either.

Lately,my inspiration has leaned towards vintage pinup girls and curvy women as fairies, mermaids, vampires, fantastical beings. I don’t question where the inspiration has come from. It’s only since I’ve met Dahlia I’ve damn near filled a full sketchbook with beautiful, faceless women. I never sketch her face. Plausible deniability and all that shit. My phone lights with a text from my muse.

Dahlia

Got my ticket for Sinning Saints next week. I’m fucking stoked.

Dahlia and I text, but it’s casual, keeping to our platonic agreement. She agreed to ride with me to this show next weekend and I’m looking forward to seeing some of our favorite songs live.

Dahlia

What are you up to? Hopefully cowboying wasn’t too tough today

Wesley

Naw, I’m built for hard work, little lady. I’m just relaxing right now. What about you?

Dahlia

You’re gonna be shocked, but I’m yet again working on my thesis for school. My course work begins at the end of next month, so I’m trying to cram as much research in now as possible.

Dahlia is working on her thesis nearly every night she’s not working. She told me how much it means to her and I honestly love hearing about it. She’s so passionate and smart and you can tell she really gives a fuck about this stuff.

Wesley

not again. It’ll be worth it though when you kick some ass and get your fancy diploma. How’s the research going?

Dahlia

Fingers crossed. I’m a bit lost, to be real. I think I have an idea of a direction though. Maybe teen mental health.

Dahlia

IDK though, maybe compare different kinds of therapy? I’m winging it at this point.

Dahlia

I’m rambling lol, using you as my personal sounding board.

Little does she know, I live for her rambles and would listen to her talk for hours. Gonna keep the thought to myself though.

Wesley

Ramble away. Could you do like horse therapy or some shit? I know being around the horses helped me a lot when I moved here.

They’re very peaceful creatures.

Dahlia

OMG, ok inspiration has struck. You gave me an idea, I gotta go. I need to get the words out of my brain BYEEEEE!