Parables of an American Outcast - Preface

> — Writings, ramblings and stories from the depths of debauchery, despair and delightful despondence

Preface

A novel about my novel. Wait. That sounded funny. Funny? No, not in the humorous use of that word ... I mean, I didn’t laugh. It’s a sentence that I guess could make sense, certainly if I had multiple novels or at least one, making this one in which I am prefacing the second.

And as lame as that sounds, I could write a novel about that other novel. I’m not. I don’t have any novels written or published. This is numero uno. After nine years as a journalist and photographer and well over 1300 published articles for mostly newspapers and a few magazines, I thought, shit ... I’m about to write all this down.

> So ... okay ... I’m not going to call this a disclaimer and it’s not a warning. It will be obvious, if it’s not already. This novel ... this collection of writings strung together into a narrative that is chronological but also ambiguous. Guess who the main character is, much of these writings in first-person prose? ... yea, you knew already. Fuck it. I’m not denying it. The American Outcast of the title is me. These ‘Parables’ are told by me. So What? As Conor Oberst says, “I’ve made love ... Yea, I’ve been fucked ... So what?” The lessons learned herein are real; the experiences, interesting; the story, funny; the purpose, only apparent in the end; the reason, pure.

This is a true tale of a mindful, mindless vagabond ... a damaged, dirty white boy from Texas set on changing the world or burning the whole motherfucker down.

Either dig that, or get the kerosene and matches.

Enjoy.