On Friday April 18, 2014, there was a barbecue at the Bundy Ranch. I was being pressured to go by my political friends who had been my campaign volunteers when I ran for office the previous year. The woman who had been my campaign manager called me and asked me to come out and lead everyone in singing Bring It Down, the Leslie Fish anarchist ballad, which we had sung at a New Years' Even party after the end of my campaign. 


Although the media narrative about the Bundy Ranch confrontation only included the extreme right, there were actually a bunch of anarchists and left-libertarians who were there hoping to witness history in the making, the beginning of a revolution that would bring peace and freedom. In the end, no revolution started. The Man backed down. The protesters stayed until the cows came home, literally, but I never went out there. 


When my former campaign manager asked me to come there and get everyone to sing anarchist songs, I pictured myself leading an odd mixed group of Las Vegas libertarian-anarchists hoping to spread anarchy, local rural Nevada cowboys there to support a guy they knew, and ultraconservative militiamen from out of state there to uphold the Constitution. Would it be like being Caesar, in a way, the focus of all that energy? Like when I gave a political speech? Like when Loki went to his massed admirers and absorbed the energy of fans chanting his name?


That song was about tearing down the system and creating anarchy. Would Loki like me to go out there and sing it? It was fairly easy to ask him, since by now I had gotten used to having him skinriding me nearly all the time. 


He said, "No, stay home and write your book." 


Just before the barbecue was going to start, Shirley called me and told me there was a terrible wind out there and she was going home because she couldn’t breathe. I was glad I hadn’t gone out there. My allergies had been bothering me even inside my house, and I was grateful to Loki for telling me to stay home. But the next day I found out just how grateful I should be.


There was an angry wind in the desert that day because a god was walking, disturbed and vengeful. That day, someone had stolen the idol of Sekhmet from her temple in Cactus Springs. I was so glad I had not moved from the protection of my home ground, where the local landwight kept away anything I didn’t personally invite within the bubble of his land. 


I asked Loki if I should do anything, other than share the news on social media. “No, that’s not your job. Write your novel.” 


Yes, Loki. 


Image: Snaptun Stone