The Long, Long Thoughts of Brandon Wilde: The Gnarly Old Singletrack of Wicked Truth

"I have seen a part of myself no man should ever see." - - - James T. Kirk

Back in the time when we had nothing better to do, my good friend Walt and I began a journey of biblical dimensions. We crept through the shadows of weird landscapes, and we carried with us some highly technical equipment that allowed us to try to understand things that were forgotten. We developed some bizarre fashion statements and crude alter-egos. Walt became The Witchdoktor: an enigmatic ecclesiast of the universal truths that can free your soul, or bind it, depending on your own free will. And I morphed into a sinister creature bent on the development of pure, transcendental, sensory perception. This dark being came to be known as Steven H. Falcon. We trudged barefoot on roads of broken glass, identifying ourselves as The Dukes of Despair, and perplexing the minds of the innocent who crossed our paths. It was good times.

The Witchdoktor may still be around. I’m not really sure. As for S.H.F, I lost contact with him. His eccentricity grew so completely wild and uncontrollable that even I could no longer grasp his mysterious essence. For a time we both tried to destroy each other, but slowly he fell away, back into the shadows from whence he came.

Now that time has rolled on forward, I find it nearly impossible to describe that era in a way that makes sense even to me. All that is left now are thousands of photos which offer little insight into the state of mind that gripped us in that madness, but they do tell a story of some sort, and perhaps they can stand as a warning to those who wish to veer off from the straight and narrow path of normal behavior.

The following selection of photos were all taken by Walt Sorensen. Most of them were too weird for the public, so these are a milder version of the truth, mostly a vague travelogue of the places where things happened.