I have been suffering The Incompetency of WordPress For Over A Decade Now.
I am Growing Weary!
Young Girls–And This Here Cowboy Do Get Weary
Three Dog Night – Try A Little Tenderness
Okay. So they put me on a stretcher and schlepped me out of the Hotel Magnuson. To Hospital. Fine. Upon my arrival, Asked me of my ‘complaint.’ “I think I’m dying.” “OK Sir, relax” I was so ‘relaxed’ by this point that I wanted to embrace death. My legs had stopped working, in fact. They were all so kind. They did all the usual Hospital Shit: Made me pee in a bottle.
Cred For This Above: The Critical Drinker (And I Have Tried–Multiple Times–To Move This Line Up-The-Fukkin’ Page to Where It Should Be. But Guess What? WORDPRESS!
And Furthermore, I Have Descended Into “No Fuks Given Territory”
Stuck me with all kinds of pins and needles. Put me in that torture chamber. That noisy machine…. What makes you pray to Hey Zeus. Several hours later, they pronounced me “Good to Go.” Told me to go home. “No ride” I said. One of the EMTs was just getting off shift and said, “No problem, I will drive you.” (I have always appreciated the kindness of strangers) EMT Guy, dropped me at the Magnuson. Shamefully, Sheep-Like, I staggered back to my room. Went into some kind of coma-sleep. Next day. PAIN AGAIN. Called Nine-One-One Once again. “What now, Marcom?” Apparently they had my phone ID. And why not? “I am dying.” I said. “Again?” she said. “Yes, again; send help,” I shot back. “OK You still at the Magnuson?” “Yep.” Some many minutes later…. Ambulance arrives. Same song, different verse: Arrived back at Commerce Hospital ER But with a twist. There was this EMT. Let us call his name, “Shawn” Because that is his name. He was so fucking proud of it that he announced it to me… Moving on… Shawn was having none of my antics. He called me out on my bullshit. He knew I was drunk. And I knew I was drunk.
Recipe for disaster and testosterone collision.
We had that semblance of common knowledge going on. As they were trying to place me back on the bed in the ER, Shawn got up in my face.
“Listen, Asshole….” He broached.
That is all it took. I got right back up in HIS face:
“Listen, Mother-Fucker! I am sincerely IN PAIN! Do NOT fuck with me!”
He was not impressed. He got back in my Face and said,
“I give no fucks about your ‘pain.’
We got eyeball to eyeball. Nose to nose. Cheek to cheek. Chest to chest.
Fisticuffs coming.
I suppose at some point, Police were summoned.
Shawn and I, were at that point… Joined at the hip. The Po-Lease Arrived. Managed to surgically separate us. They took Shawn away. And put me away. In the Hospital Bed. Where I ‘rested.’
The Cops hung around. I suppose to just make certain I was not gonna kill anyone.
We had some ‘chat.’ They asked me if I was gonna be a ‘problem’ for the Hospital Staff.
I said, “No. Just as long as you keep that asshole Shawn outta my sight.” One cop said, “Shawn is gone.” “Fine then,” I said back. And then we, the cops and me, enjoyed some of my War Stories of Iraq and Afghanistan. And we had a merry time.
Denouement:
I think, looking back, Shawn and I just had communication deficit.
Next time I found me in the Commerce ER, I told that same very nice EMT that I had regrets about Shawn. And that I’d like to apologize (I seem to be ‘apologizing’ a lot these days) He was kind, and said, “I will tell him; certain he will appreciate the sentiment.” “Thank You.” I said. “Now fetch me a beer.”
(I guess eyes rolled at this point, but at the very least, I had managed to make him smile inside.)
Added value:
“If You Ain’t Shawn, I’m Gone!”
I sincerely regret That fact.
That I feel this need..
To hit you upon your head.
“If you ain’t Shawn, I’m Gone!”
Writing is fun!
They draw first and then they run.’
While shooting at a girl named of “Nancy’
(She called herself ‘Lil.’ but her name was Ma Gill)
We just called her ‘Nancy”
(This is called ‘foreshadowing’–yeah–it’s a literary term. Ha ha ha!)
“Rocky, you’ve met your match.”
I said, “No Doc; it’s only a scratch!”
“But I’ll get better, I’ll get better, soon as I’m able..”
This is how I am living my life these days. Actually, how I have always endeavored to live my life.
I Don’t have much at all, money-wise, material-wise but I am ‘Rich’ with things of much more Value and Worth and I AM Thankful.
I am thankful, most of all, for all the wonderful people who have, over the years, come into my life and Blessed me with their Friendship
I am thankful for all the extraordinary opportunities I have had to travel the world and make friends of people from all walks of life and cultures
I am thankful for all the women I have loved and who have loved me back and put up with my bullshit and wanderlust and quirky, eccentric ways—even loved me for them, or in spite of them, I suppose
I am thankful for my mother and father. Neither was perfect, but who is? Certainly not This Cowboy.
I am thankful for having the Great Good Fortune to be a Native Texan. Sounds like hyperbole? It Ain’t. Believe it.
I am thankful for having the time to focus on my writing and for The Internet for allowing me the vanity to ‘share’ my work. (Thanks Al Gore for Inventing The Internet—We LOVE YOU MAN!) Some of Y’all May or Not Recall when Al Claimed to having ‘Invented’ The Internet. But I Remember. And it still Makes ME Laugh out LOUD Ever’Time I Remember it
I am thankful for not needing to go on Food Stamps (Not Yet Anyhow) That is a Joke, By the way…
I am thankful that Booze has failed in its unrelenting, timeless, tireless effort to kill me. “Keep tryin’ Booze! Stay focused and positive. You may just succeed one day.But I doubt it.” (Another Joke!)
By the way Booze, How long will this bullshit go on?
Just curious.
***
Update 03 July 2021:
I quit drinking finally and completely and forevermore two or so months ago.(only took me fifty some-odd years, but I did it.)Update, Current Day: 4/23/2023 I Have Fallen Off My Nose-Painted Wagon Many, Many Times Since This Was First Writ, But I Keep Climbing Back On Board
What this means, not to put too fine a point on it, this means I have chosen life over death.
Have chosen ‘Good Vibes’ over ‘Bad Vibes’
***
“I Don’t Like That Surfer Shit”
***
***
“Uh…Booze? I’m still waiting for your answer to my question. How long?!”
I have no regrets for how I have lived my life.
(OK, Perhaps a few ‘Minor Regrets’—I have not always been ‘The Smartest-Person-In-The-Room; In fact, I have often been the stupidest person in the room.
But I have lived my life without compromise and I have taken full responsibility for all my actions and the consequences they created.
And I have treated people with compassion, kindness, and respect throughout my life.
Y’all have a Great Sunday.
Cheers
P.S. “What Is Your Plan Going Forward Lance?” Some may inquire.
“Why, To Keep On Truckin’ Of Course. What a silly question…Hahaha!”
“Lance: “Grateful Alive”
Be Happy Y’all.
–Lancer
A Beautiful, Poetic Song About Life From A Beautiful Poetic Woman:
Girls (And This Cowboy/Sailor) Just Wanna Have Fu’un
That last big storm we’d had shot down a lightning bolt into my ‘back-yard’ and knocked out my internet.
For FOUR DAYS!
(Thanks so Much for THAT, Zeus)
It tried to gasp itself back to life. I was powerless to help. No CPR for Internets, I suppose.
Was damn near out of booze.
Got behind the wheel of my little Chariot.
Turned the ignition: ‘Click, Click. Fucking Click!’
I did NOT need this!
Early Next A.M.
Called Hoover’s Automotive Repair—Told them I was sending them a ‘Project‘
Then I called Benson Brothers, Legendary Towing Service.
Next day Hoover-Man Delivered My ‘Labomba. He drove us back to Hoover’s so that I could ‘Settle Up’—Six hundred Bucks!
By this point I was suffering Delirium Tremens—Shaking so bad, I could barely Barely. But I had to get some alcohol in me, with extreme ‘pred-a-juice’ or I would surely die.
It was a race-against-the-clock.
Got to my beer/wine/Copenhagen Store. My Man knew what I wanted (I always purchase the same items—he loaded them to my vehicle)
Made it home. Now shaking uncontrollably. No way I was going to be able to unload my purchases.
Happily (and luckily), I saw Cynthia sitting around a table with some friends of hers. Saw me & greeted Me, “Hey Baby, How Y’all doin?”
I replied, “Not so good. Will you help me?”
She walked over and asked, “What’s up?”
I cannot unload this stuff.
She said, “Don’t worry. You go on in and I’ll bring it to you. Can you make it into your house?”
“I think so,” I replied.
I was wrong.
I could not make it up the only step up to my porch.
One of Cynthia’s friends rushed over to help me and to my front door.
I tried to get the key into the door knob—No dice—He took my key and unlocked the door.
I shook over to my bed an fell half-way into it.
Cynthia arrived with my ‘items’. I apologized for the state of my room, trying to explain that I had been in so much pain, that I could only manage a little bit of house-keeping at a time.
She said, “I’ll clean it for you on Tuesday.”
Words failed me.
Wonderful , kind, generous woman.
I found my tongue, but ”Thank you,” Was best I could muster
*****
Out of All The Women I Have Known, I Can Count On-One-Hand The VERY FEW Whoever Let Me Down…. And No! I won’t be naming names
But on that flip side, I don’t have enough fingers and toes to add up all the women I have let down
*******
And Yes
My Nekke Bone Still Fukked!
—-Chaucer
Lance is a Chaucerian Fraud
(This ain’t no secret)
*******
Bonus:
Yeah.
I’ve had some ‘Bad Days’
“At Black Rock”
(For Film Buffs Only—Most likely) I ripped this off because it is loosely related to this post.
I wrote a ‘scholarly’ paper on it and did a ‘Presentation’ too. Complete with videos. Guess my propensity to drop in vids started early.
Oh, and BTW, I got an ‘A’ for my effort.
I did not have the heart to inform My Professor—Head of the English Department–that I wrote it drunk, in 45 mins, since he was so proud of me…
