Abusive Muse–Act Three and a Half–Interlude.

I returned to my keyboard and typed:

“Dear Helen, I am so very sorry.”

Announced to Muse:

“Okay. Done.”

She came over, read what I had written.

“That’s it?”

“Yeah. Succinct. Perfection.”

She grasped me by my hand…

“Come sit down with me on the Nasty Couch for a moment.”

“Uh… Okay.”

“Lance, I am your Muse. And I will love you for all time. And Believe me: I have time. Back in that day when William S. was struggling… I hooked him up. Back When Coleridge had that Albatross about his neck, I hooked him up. Back when Sam Clemens had no pot to piss in, I hooked him up. But you! You!  YOU WEAR ME OUT!”

As we were sitting there, me gazing into her eyes, she glaring at mine…

“Boom! Boom! Boom!”

Someone was pounding at my door.

“UPS?” Muse asked.

“No” I said. “Delirium Tremens Man. Right on schedule.”

“Stay put; I’ll handle this,” she said as she thrust her tiny self against the door and screamed, “Fuck Off! This is MY TIME With Lance!”

I could barely hear the faint sound of shuffling footsteps as he skulked away.

Muse sat back down on the couch.

“Now, where were we?”

“Darling, I have no idea, but you seem to be in charge. Please don’t hurt me.”

Chap Two Found here

Abusive Lovely Muse–Chapter Two

I sat down and starting writing.

Muse was over my shoulder, massaging my hurting neck.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“My Job, Musing.”

“Knock it off! I am trying to work here.”

“Jesus! Relax.”

“Why don’t you sit down? I don’t need a spider looking over my shoulder.”

She looked a bit hurt and started to pout.

She parked her lovely self on my nasty couch. And glared at me.

I went back to my keyboard.

“Uh, Musey, What should I write?” I finally asked.

“You’re the fucking Genius; figure it out.”

“No! I do need and love you.”

“Write what is ON-YOUR-MIND.”

“My Erstwhile Girlfriend is on MY MIND.”

“Well, write that then.”

“Okay, I will. How should I begin?’

“A long apology letter might be a good start.”

“Alright; I will start with that.”

“Now we are getting somewhere.”

Chapter One Found Here: 

The Abusive Muse

‘WAKE UP!”

“Whaaaa?”

“Wake the fuck UP!”

“Who are you?”

“Your Muse.”

“Oh, I thought You That Delirium Tremens Monster.”

“No. He will be around later. Right now you have me.”

“Okay. Something on your mind?”

“Yes. You need to get up and write.”

“I am sleepy.”

“Time enough to sleep when you’re dead.”

“Really? We gonna go there?”

“Get your ass up; plant your ass on that chair. Hit the keyboard. Write!”

“Don’t wanna.”

“’Want’ has nothing, and everything to do with this.”

“Okay.”

To Be Continued….

Part two here

Perchance To Dream

For Weeks I could not Sleep.

Now All I want to do is Sleep.

I am going to check out for a while.

And WRITE.

Do not be concerned.

You may or may not hear from me for awhile.

Or ever again.

Please do NOT become a ‘Good Samaritan’ and call 911.

Or email me.

Or try to telephone me.

Or Message me.

If I am dead, I am dead. Nothing to be done.

Let me be Dead in Peace.

If I decide to die,

I will Post a Message First.

This is what a nice, Considerate Person I have Become.

“Commencing Count-Down, Engines On.”

“I’m stepping through the door.”

“Can you Hear Me, Major Tom? Major Tom! There is Something Wrong.”

“I think my Spaceship Knows Which Way To Go.”

William Henry

Back in 1974 I found myself at Warrior Stadium, Watching the HG Warriors kick the ever’ loving shit outta those Fannindale (dale?, del?)  Ladonia! I was born in that town, ’57! Guess I can call their football team what-ever-the-fuck I want…  Falcons.

I should have been on the field, but I had opted out my senior year, because I was tired of the whole “Friday Night Lights” shit.

And I was too busy.

Seated on opposite sides of me were Joe Whitley (Who was a math teacher and a rancher and father of my girlfriend, and also my employer) and William Henry—Local Big Boy and World – Famous Drunk.

We were seated near the top of the stadium, nearly to the “Press Box.”

William Henry looked behind and spied something that interested him.

Behind the stands was the ‘Practice Field’ of the Famed Honey Grove Warriors.

There was a ‘Blaster Machine’ parked there.

Joe and I watched William Henry navigate down the stands and make his way toward same.

We watched with great curiosity as William Henry studied this machine.

He backed up ‘bout fifty foot and charged head-long into it.

Boom!

It slid back ‘bout ten feet.

He shook his head.

Went back another fifty foot.

Charged again.

Hit it full force.

Boom!

Slid back another ten foot.

William Henry in earnest now hit it with all his might (and his head)

Boom!

Still did not get through.

(Blaster Machines are a one – way street)

Joe and I watched him navigate his way back up to our seat.

He sat down, and with blood running into his eyes, said,

“Ya know, you gotta be one tough sumbitch to play football!”

True Story.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i_3yfyhmNc8

Escape From Memphis–Chapter The End: “You Shoulda Planned Ahead”

This is the end of my “Escape From Memphis” Saga.

I am done.

Done with it.

Finished.

Caput

I am managing my disease.

Poorly.

But, I am still breathing.

Ran outta booze at zero-four this morning.

I shoulda planned ahead.

Today was Sunday.

No relief until Noon.

(Texas!)

What to do?

Pace back and forth in my little Habi-Trail.

Like some kind of fucking Hamster.

Did that.

Shook until five minutes before noon.

Drove to the beer store.

Got my meds.

All is good now.