Texas is Hell on Women and Horses (And Alcoholics)

I am struggling.

Failing.

Flailing.

Just another dead fish.

Going with the flow.

Looking for distraction.

Abstract things to fill my mind.

And take me to some happier places.

Mostly Movies

But also music.

But the booze trumps all distractions.

And makes cowards of us all.

Such an evil mistress.

She gives and She takes.

(Mostly takes.)

Tries to take my life.

I will not go quietly into that good night.

No!

Not this Cowboy!

No!

I will fight the good fight.

I will WIN!

By The Grace of God!

(Funny that. Spoken by an Atheist)

(But Looks Good in Print.)

I will expand upon these Madness Thoughts  at some future date.

Please Stand by.

As an aside… and just to pass some time

In the interim:

“There’s a “Hallelujah!” on the lips of every dying man.”

The Shit Show That Is My Life

There is a very rare and narrow window into my world.

Let us call it the ‘Sobriety Window.”

For lack of a term.

Sometimes, I attempt to thrust me out of that window.

Sometimes I just ignore it

Sometimes, I actually make it outside.

Into the ‘Real World.’

Then I panic!

Try to get back in.

Back into my “Comfort Zone.”

But the Window has already slammed shut behind me.

I cannot get back in.

But eventually, using an eat crow bar, I manage to  pry it open.

Through persververance and cunning.

And lying. (To Myself.)

Get back in.

And the whole shit–show begins anew.

Rinse and Repeat.

****

Well there’s a rain that ruins my alibi

I’m down to tellin’ you, my Red-eyed Mind

It’s not that sun bright path

That calls me from my home

It’s just that fine Backslider’s wine

My momma sings out in my memory

Oh Son, don’t wear no black-eyed shine

Fight for your rights

But, don’t just fight for right

And do not drink Backslider’s wine

But I took myself for a strong and loving soul

’til I found my self, face down on the bar room floor

Crying ‘My God!’ What have they done with me?

I cannot drink Backslider’s wine

No more

“Ludicrous” is Just a Scare Word. (I’m Over My Head, But It Sure Feels Nice.)

But, I am having THAT TIME OF MY LIFE!

My life has taken a turn toward the bizarre.

Recent memory (of which I have not so much)

Recent memory teaches me my life may be falling apart.

But then…

I look at my prolific writing of late.

And I smile a ‘knowing‘ smile while regarding my folly.

I love my LIFE.

Will never give it up without kicking and screaming.

I love my life.

I am having FUN!

I want for NOTHING.

I am living the DREAM!

Below please discover some of the silliness I have recently posted on Face Book.

(If I cannot laugh at me…. Well, what’s the point?)

I laugh at me constantly.

Incessantly.

*****

Still Moving IN.  

Should have taken half a day.

Taken almost three months now and still counting.

I am savoring it.

To be fair: There were some ‘detours’ along my way.

Denton, UBH comes immediately to mind…

Happy Saturday Y’all

***

As well-documented:

My life is an open book.

I hold back nothing. Not sure why. I guess I am just past the point of giving a shit.

***

This is ‘Social Media’ I really do not know most of y’all, nor would care to. I ‘write’ stuff that is in my head—a scary place–for certain.

However, I love to write. Writing allows me to get deep down–explore what is going on in my head–what I am FEELING. It is usually lame, but….

I do try to add added value to my posts. Generally in the form of some esoteric video or song. (And, more often than not, an oldie)

Just to make your trip not worthless.

***

In my ‘Inbox’ This Afternoon:

From: Indeed

To: Marcom

Job Alert!

‘Seeking Tinker, Tailor, Sailor, Spy’

Job Description: Sit in Shit-Hole Hotel Room. Write Stupid Shit All Day (and Night)

Spend way too much time on Social Media.

Watch U.S. of A. going to hell in a hand-basket (Preferably On CNN, but FOX News will do as well)

Requirements:

Applicant will be Sixty-Plus White Male.

Juicer

No self-esteem required.

Must type 40 WPM

(Grammar is important. Spelling not so much)

Must drink 45 Ounces per hour.

Pay: ‘It won’t cost you a dime. Just send One Dollar, Postal Money Order along with your application.’

“Shit! Put me in Coach!”

Applied for Job.

Fingers Crossed.

***

I am struggling with this whole sobriety thing.

Not sure if it is going to work for me.

I do not want to go back to THAT PLACE

But, I may be Over My Head on this one.

I try to eat.

I try to sleep.

I try to keep up

With current events.

I try to watch old movies.

Nothing works.

In short:

“I am properly fucked.”

***

So… I wake up and it’s sixty-one degrees in my ‘house’ right now.

(How do I know this? Because I have a fucking thermometer—that’s how!)

I turn my HVAC to heat and guess what?

The fucking smoke detector alarm (conveniently placed right over my HVAC unit) goes the fuck off, thus awakening both my neighbors and my ire!

What kind of idiot did this? Who engineered this?

I pulled the battery out of the damn smoke detector.

Yeah, I like to live on the edge.

***

This Shit Just Keeps Writing Itself:

Dear

Finney Foods

I know you are just trying to scare up customers.

However, I am a writer and I am just trying to scare up readers.

I seriously doubt y’all are interested in my writing.

I only have some few, special friends.

Friends who read my shit.

I am fairly certain I cannot include you in this group.

Therefore, If you are not interested in my HG Stories, I will de-friend you. Comments are your ticket to paradise.

You have thirty minutes.

Clock ticking.

Post Haste.

***************

 

There is a very narrow window in my world.

Let us call it the “Sobriety Window.”

For lack of a term.

Sometimes, I thrust me out of that window.

Sometimes I just ignore it

Sometimes, I actually make it outside.

Into the Real World.

Then I panic!

Try to get back in.

The Window has already shut tight behind me.

I cannot get back in.

But eventually, I do.

Get back in.

And the whole shit – show begins anew.

(There is a serious post here, fixing to happen.

But not tonight— this one Will require some sobriety to write.)

And that narrow window opportunity….

******************

This is RAW!

Un-Thoughtful.

Un-Examined.

Un-Polite.

Un-EDITED

I may come back and edit later 

(but probably not)

I am using my ‘Shotgun’ approach to writing these daze:

“Just Shoot! See if you can HIT anything.”

“Look at me! I can… BE…. Center Field!”

Cabin Fever–UBH–On Quietus.

I think I gots ‘Cabin Fever.’

“This mornin,’  I shot six holes in my freezer; I think I got cabin fever. Somebody sound the alarm!”

Visualize me trying to explain all the nuance of this to Commerce’s Finest…. 

“Well, you see, Officer… there was this woman… And ReHab, and… That Fridge… was Antifa…”

“Assume the position Sir.”

“Okay.”

This is my problem.

I need a road trip…

Somewhere other than the Beer Store,

Or Wal-Mart.

I need to get out of this self-imposed prison.

It is driving me insane. (And trust me on this: I am capable of driving myself)

But this is a different animal.

Not that I need human interaction.

Just some fresh air.

That is all.

Too much reminisce.

Losing my fucking mind!

I need a ‘Walk-About.’

Road – Trip.

Perhaps to Honey Grove.

Or  Somewhere.

Anywhere but here!

Several miles from here.

Just to breathe.

I need to ‘get over myself.’

“Lance! Take a break Son! Get outta town for a spell! Even if just for an afternoon!”

“I will. Soon as I make bail.”

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.”

Pissin’ In The Wind

You realize shit done got real when you have to hang onto the sink to steady yourself just to take a piss, mustering up all your skills and best aim to hit the Goddamn toilet, and then failing.

Miserably

But one sailors on… and fires again

Kinda like artillery: one over, one under.
One, just right!

Goldilocks!

Now, FIRE for Effect!

“Houston, We have a problem.”

Yeah, no shit!

Yeah, booze is killing me!

Just sayin’.