Having Received My SS Check Early (For Once Upon A Life-Line) I Turned My Mouse House UP-Side Down Searching For My Check Book.

And Yes, I Looked High an’ I Looked Low…

Discovered NO Satisfaction.

What – Ever Does This Mean? You May Ask.

It Means, Dear Reader,

Means I Cannot PAY MY RENT Today.

And It is Already

Late

Way Too Late

Way Past DUE!

Now I Run The Very Real POSSIBILITY, Risk,

Of Being

EVICTED

AGAIN

Once Again

***

And BTW,

Anybody Wanna Walk Around in My Shoes For A Spell?

Thought Not, But Compelled to Ask

****

No Satisfy!

***

Went Searchin’ For A Rainbow…

Found None

Cred: MTB. Duh!

***

Searched EVERYWHERE!

All To No Avail

And Bank Don’t Open ‘Til Monday

Case of the Mondays

***Heavy Sigh***

***

Galley

Not Sure This.

No Matter.

Still in My Mouse House,

Though Not Sure Where.

Dyin’ Room

Boudoir

No Satisfaction!

Evicted

Once Again.

And THIS Time,

I’m All Out of Options

Dammnit!

Breaks Down Like This:

A. My Vehicle is Being Held Hostage At The Automotive Repair Shop, Awaiting Ransom

B. I Have Not The Funds For The Ransom at-this-Moment

C. My Life is a Train Wreck

D. My Land-Lady’s Sense O’ Humor and Patience Has Dun Run Out.

And, Yes:

My Life is as a Train Wreck

E. And Like A Hurricane

***

What If Earth (And Lance) got Kicked Out of the Solar System?

Street Cred For Vid: Kurzgesagt – In a Nutshell

“Letter From a South Park Jail” Part Four: “Homeward Bound”

Semi-Subliminal Message for Lance-The-‘Writer’

Interior of a KAF South Park ‘Port-A-Shitter’ in case you have never ‘experienced’ one

This is the continuation of a transcribed letter/email I sent to my Girlfriend (Isn’t she pretty?) while stuck in Kandahar, Afghanistan

***

1423hrs: South Park DFAC

It was a long and winding road which led me back to South Park home base. As I was trudging along, sweating my ass off, I kept reminding myself of the New Yorker’s directions given to someone looking to get to Texas from NYC:

“Head west until you smell shit. That’s Oklahoma. Go south until you step in it. That’s Texas.”

I found my way back to South Park in similar fashion: Followed my nose to the ‘Poo Pond’ and took a left—ran right into South Park. Easy as Poo Pie.

Poo Pond Song

#1 With A Bullet

Street Cred for Shared Vid: JimmyMisawa

Original Artist Credit:  Music and video by Jimmy Moreland

***

Kandahar the Song

Also #1 With A Bullet

(It was a ‘Foto-Finish’)

“Kandahar the song is about life at Kandahar Air Base in Afghanistan.  Everything was filmed, photographed, recorded and edited at Kandahar (KAF) except the stuff that wasn’t.  Yep, Rocket Attacks, the Poo Pond and reflective belts are a way of life at KAF.  Enjoy”

Street Cred for Vid:  HeySargeUSA Spillane

***

As soon as I got back and kicked yet another Gomer off’n my rack (What’s wrong with these people?), I went to Flight Ops to see if I could fly the hell outta here tomorrow. I’ll tell you what they told me:

“We’ll have to get back to you on that.”

1738hrs: Sitting on my Rack

Shoo’d the Gomes off… again. I sent you an email few minutes ago, telling you my show-time is 0100hrs for my flight back to Dwyer. I believe it’s a Helo this time. They are slower, but it’s a short trip. On Saturday, I could have walked here and gotten to the CAC office same day before they closed.

The computers here have been acting stupid today, so I don’t know if you got my recent posts. Only thing left for me to do is update my time sheet at 1900hrs and eat supper.

I stole a sleeping bag from the Billeting laundry box so I wouldn’t freeze my ass off tonight. (The A/C works really good in this tent starting around midnight). Problem is, not getting to sleep much. I must confess something: I like a routine.

I do much better when I have a routine. You probably would never have guessed that about me.  

Mike!! 

Hopefully will not still be there on Dwyer whenever I get home, but I had no email from Shannon, so I suspect he remains. Shannon surely would have told me if he finally did leave. I would hope so anyway.

Ode To An Asshole:

***

1915hrs: Sitting on my rack

Supper was yummy. Roast pork(?) and a chicken breast. South Park’s population seems to have doubled today. Trying to find a spot to sit in the smoking arena is an exercise in futility. Time for me to leave obviously.

I’m gonna miss this place.

SORTA…

I am really exhausted now. Tomorrow will be another Long Day, but at least at the end of it I’ll be back in my own bed and in my own hooch.

My Classy, Comfy, Cozy, Crib

***

I’m sad right now a little bit ‘cause I have not heard from you. Hopefully a bit later before I depart for the flight line and most likely another long wait to get on yet another bird… I hope they fed the hamsters this time: “Helicopter Hamsters.” Sounds like a song: ‘Muskrat Love…’ (Lance, you need sleep Son)

2020hrs: DFAC

Tried to sleep. Failed. Ideas of what to show you and do with you and to you in Dubai race around in my head and look for a place to rest.

31 July Tuesday 0021hrs: DFAC – Strong coffee

Taster’s Choice instant. ‘Twill serve. Just got off the computer a few minutes ago and had several emails from you. Happy Now. Some dude was very vociferous about some folks taking more than their allotted ten minutes (I’m not guilty of that. Not Much). Anyway, I had to go.

Got a couple hours of death-like sleep until a Billeting Gome woke me up (very politely) tapping me on the shoulder, making sure I knew I was scheduled to fly. I assured him that “Yeah Baby! I’m flying outta here.” My alarm was about to go off, but I’m glad he woke me up just in case it didn’t.

They have the Olympics on TV now here in the DFAC. I had forgotten about them and I suppose they are well underway by now. I do hope Texas brings home a lot of gold this time! Gotta go and grab my ‘kit’. See? I can speak Brit. Heading to the rally point.

Rally Ho!

0315hrs: PAX Terminal KAF

Been successfully herded from South Park.

0348hrs: Taxi Runway

Didn’t even have time to finish my coffee.

Gryphon Airlines exhibited uncharacteristic efficiency today. I did manage to wolf down part of an MRE I had rat-fucked on the 28th. Not on a helo—thought I would be. A/C on this bird no better than the last one.

Waiting to take off… Plane is full and we have two stops before Dwyer. Hopefully I’ll be home in time for DFAC breakfast, but not likely. Oh, plane holds about forty-six in case you’re wondering.

0404hrs: Airborne!

Escape Velocity Breached!

“Once more unto the Breach!”

On our way! Yippee Ki Aye! Captain is female, Michelle. I love her already.

Homeward Bound!

0519hrs: FOB Shindand

Sitting here in Beautiful Shindand. Well, just sittin’ on the plane which is sittin’ on the tarmac in Beautiful Shindand. I have never been to Shindand, so I have no emotions one way or another about Shindand, but apparently I like writing the word ‘Shindand.’

FOB Shindand

Breaking dusk, a C-130 takes off from Shindand Air Base.

***

It is just before sunrise here and this time tomorrow I should be back in MY Gym on MY FOB. But for now, next stop FOB Ferah. Shindand Gomes are boarding now…

While they are settling in, I’d like to tell you more about this airplane. As I said, she seats around forty-six. I am semi-comfortably ensconced in a window seat, seated near-the-rear of this DHC-8-300, aka: ‘Dash Eight’ and we just ‘dashed’ from KAF to here at twenty-thousand feet and I must assume at about 250 mph, but I’d have to verify that with Michelle, or her hamsters.

Here is a Dash Eight that ‘Dashed’ to the Scene of the Crash.

For brevity in the local vernacular: a ‘Dash Crash’

This is an Eight-Hamster plane: two hamsters per propeller which is in accordance with FAA, ‘Fuckin Afghan Aviation’ regulations. Our Flight Attendant, Gail, is going through her spiel again (poorly) and has informed us that

“No one would like to hear the smoke alarm going off (ya think?), so please don’t smoke Schmuck.”

I added the “Schmuck” because I am in charge of this letter and it made me happy to do so. Well, the hamsters are warming up their little legs, so I reckon, we’ll be departing presently. And… in fact we ARE!

I love my Life!

Airborne now and I see the sun just peeking over a mountain—very romantic. Why does Shindan get to have mountains and Dwyer does not? Shindand looks like Aspen on a bad day, and Dwyer looks like Lubbock on any day.

0613hrs: FOB Farah

Gotta get off here briefly. The hamsters will be taking on Hamster Fuel, probably corn, or corn nuts, or whatever it is that fuels hamsters.

0629hrs: FOB Farah

I love this FOB! Well, what little I have seen of it anyway. It is tiny and nestled in some really cool-looking mountains. As we were landing I was watching for the asphalt runway to appear. It didn’t. We landed on a dirt strip. How cool is that? Not my first dirt strip landing but it caught me pleasantly off guard.

FOB Farah

When I first got to Afghanistan, I was hoping to be sent to a small remote FOB such as this, alas, I’ve been stuck at Dwyer for a year.

Now that the hamsters have refueled and I’ve had a taste of my ‘Dream FOB’ nothing left to do but head back to Dwyer, which should begin in a minute or two.

0655hrs: Airborne Again

Gail told us we have thirty-five minutes to Dwyer and I believe her. Shouldn’t get over twelve thousand feet altitude, “And once again, this is a non-smoking flight.”

“Thank you Gail. It’s been at least thirty minutes since I heard that.”

0730hrs: Home

This concludes our Special Broadcast and we now return you to your regularly scheduled emails, already in progress.

It’s good  GREAT to be Home

Shannon ‘Duck’ & Lance

My Good Friend Lady Lucy

***

“There’s no place like home”

“There’s no place like home.”

***

***

Previously:

Fuk it! Expanded It. Gotta Re-Post It. Why? ‘Cause I’m Blissfully Lost In My TEXAS! That’s Why! “Shonnie: The Biker’s Wife: Intro.”

And Just For Reference and Deference:

“Escape From Memphis”

Lance, The Texan Moron

Cred: Texas Longhorns

***

Texas Forever!

God’Dammint!

Hook ’em Horns!

Not Shonnie, But Pretty Close (and almost) Beautiful Enough to be a Reasonable Facsimile

***

In Nineteen-Eighty-Seven San Diego County there was only one Country & Western Bar/Dance Hall (that I knew of).

I was sorely missing Texas and even though I was never what one might call ‘A Hardcore Country Music Fan’, I was feeling nostalgic.

So I bought me a pair of Nocona’s, and no, I did not varnish them,

A Stetson, couple pair of Wrangler’s, some shirts with snaps, a string tie, and off I went, ‘Looking for Love in All the Wrong Places.

But in this case, I had found ‘The Right Place’. Even though I didn’t realize it at the time.

***

This One below is Personal and for Shonnie. Wherever she may be.

No need to watch. My narrative would survive without it. But my heart would not.

If you do choose to watch/listen, keep in mind it sums up, and also foreshadows in a nutshell, a great deal of the content in the chapters to come.

Good Gawd! I love My Texas!

***

Mickey Gilley – “Lookin’ for Love”

The name of joint escapes me. Not important. But it was along the lines of ‘Gilley’s’ in Pasadena, Texas, albeit much the lesser.

I mean, Gilley’s had five bars in their Bar and the largest dance floor in Texas, if not The World. (My apologies to ‘Billy Bob’s’ in Fort Worth.)

This ‘Honky-Tonk,’ and I use the term loosely, had but one bar and one medium-sized dance floor. And it didn’t even have chicken wire in front of the stage to protect the band from flying Lone Star long-neck beer bottles.

What a gyp!

Would serve my purposes however, or at least sate my low expectations. I mean, we are talking Southern California here folks, after all.

(According to Sir Willie Nelson in his first book, “Willie: An Autobiography,” The Good Folks who ran Gilley’s, Mickey Gilley et Al, during the Early Years (1971) were compelled to install the wire. Without it, no band would agree to perform there. Things could, and often did, get ‘Rowdy’ at Gilley’s.

By the Time Peanut and I were spending Quality Time in the place–Mid to Late Seventies–I saw no chicken wire. But the rowdy remained. More often than not with Peanut in the thick of it and too often the cause of it. “That Sonuvabitch done pissed me off!”

“Thanks for the memories, P’Nut–You fuckin’ Nut.”)

Credit: Channel Two Houston and devonhart,

June 26, 2014 in ‘Historic Houston’

***

So I began to frequent this establishment in earnest. The thing that stuck me upon my first visit was that all the ‘Cowboys’ and ‘Cowgirls’ looked like Yuppies. Not Dallas Yuppies, mind you: ‘Southern California Yuppies’.

The walls were adorned with all manner of Rodeo Scenes, all of which looked as if Norman Rockwell might have dragged his brush across them.

Yuk!

There were also some lariats, a few saddles strategically placed against a couple of walls, a few ‘decorative’ spittoons (nothing more useless in the world than a spittoon ‘what never dun been used’), and many more things I cannot find the stomach to recount.

Double Yuk!!

The lighting was, well, Too Light. Hopefully, this would be rectified later in the evening’s adventure as the ‘real’ Cowfolks came sauntering in.

One sustains hope in situations such as these. There really is no other choice.

“Good Godawmighty! Lance! Son, you were more ‘at home’ in the Titty-Bars downtown San Dog than this abhorrent lame excuse for a ‘Honky-Tonk’,” voice in my head said.

The other voice in my head (Probably Peanut’s) said, “Cowboy?! You know you ain’t no real Cowboy neither; jes’ go wid it.”

There was, as I said, one bar. And immediately to the right of this bar… 

(a respectable looking bar, if I do grudgingly admit, replete with no less than four barkeeps and many, many serving wenches scurrying back and forth not unlike so many dutiful worker ants—all very pretty—in that Southern California-Wanna-be-Urban-Cowgirl-Beach-Babe-Kinda-Style)

…was the stage with a Cowboy Band. Actually a damn good one. They even had a fiddle player (so at least they could play ‘Amardillo By Morning’  a song which always reminded me of ‘Monsieur Le Peanut’, and forever held a special place in my heart and in my ears.

Immediately in front of the Bar was that ‘dance floor’, (No sawdust, but that could be grudgingly forgiven, I suppose).

The rest was mainly four-seater tables and chairs (And Candles! Fer Christ’s Sake! Candles!)

For the life of me, I could not spy a single pool table nor a shuffle board nor even an air hockey table. Certainly no mechanical bull.

Honky-Tonk Travesty!

The bar itself drew me first (of course). I asked for a Lone Star and got a vacant look. “Ok, gimme a shot ah Beam and a… ah… a Heineken.” (‘Jerry Jeff, please forgive them; for they know not what they do’.)

Now properly attired and bona-fide in my two-fisted drinker status, I went searching for a table close to the dance floor. As it was relatively early, I had no difficulty finding same.

I sat and drank and wistfully, wishfully, sorta woefully…

‘Cowgirl’ Watched, as I drifted back into memories of ‘for real’ Cowgirls.

The place began to fill up along ‘bout 1900hrs. The joint was semi-jumping now. (For San Diego, I guess. By that time I suppose the surf was no longer ‘up’).

I studied the apparently single cowgirls and spied a rather lanky ‘tall drank ah water’, long-haired brunette with Sloe-Gin eyes and all that implies, just tearing things up with several different dance partners.

I made my move between songs. Sashayed over to her and asked for a ‘daince’, (actually tipping my hat! Yes! Yes! I know! Bullshit!) trying ever-so-hard to establish that I weren’t no ‘Coke-a-Cola Cowboy’, but a real ‘un. 

From Texas.

Lance as “Cowboy”

We danced the dance and I could sense I was not her cup of… whatever it is that they actually drink here.

She whispered in my ear, “Hey ‘Cowboy’ (rather mockingly, I perceived), “I have a friend you should meet. Her name’s ‘Shonnie’ and she is seated (seated?) just right over there. C’mon! I’ll introduce ‘Y’all’” (Yet another perceived slight?)

I glanced in the direction she was leading us and saw a rather diminutive dirty blond, absently stirring her drink as she casually watched the band while they began to belt out some Randy Travis monstrosity.

We waltzed up to the table and my escort announced quite cheerfully, “Hey Shonnie! I found you a ‘real’ Cowboy.” (She quickly whispered to me, “Hey Sugar Britches, what’s your name?”)

“Lance”

“Uh, Shonnie, Girlfriend, This here’s ‘Lance’. Say ‘Howdy.’”

“Hiya”

I shook the diminutive hand she offered and sat down.

“Uh, Howdy Shonnie, Little Lady; Nice to meet Y’all.” (Yes, I was really laying it on thick, but I was somewhere between buzzed  and drunk and starting to figure, ‘What the hell I got to lose’?)

She smiled wily, if not demurely, through semi-white teeth, Marlboro smoke, and Paul Newman Blue Eyes. I must admit: I was intrigued.

Thus began one of the most bizarre ‘flings’ I have ever had.

***

More to come… 

***

“And I’ll be lookin’ for eight when they pull that gate.”

“And I hope that judge ain’t blind…”

We all do”

Peanut.

“We all look for ‘eight’

And we all hope the judge IS blind (but you knew that, didn’t you? You asshole! You were not supposed to die first. We made a pact. Didn’t we?? Don’t you remember?”)

Rest, My Very Best Friend.

You are severely missed.

I’ll catch up to you.”

Someday soon…

Suzy Bogguss – Someday Soon

Vid Share Cred: Robert W. Roddis, Esq.

Shit! I Am One Lazy Ess-Oh-Bee! “Sheryl Crow Dresses For Shite. She is Insane!–This Is Why I Love Her So Much. So Marvelous Much! Me Being Same–Same: Insane

OMG!

Whatever Went So Horribly Wrong With Me?

I truly do not understand the Mathematics of My life.

My Slide-Rule is Broken

***

No Glamour Found There:

Only Talent & Sincerity

I’ve got a crummy job;

It don’t pay near enuff

I don’t have diddly squat

Lighten Up!

Soak Up The Sun, Son

Mistake? I Don’t Think So

Sheryl, I ADORE You

Sheryl!!!

I Miss Shonnie So Much.

She Always Re-mined’ed Me Of Sheryl

–On Steroids

I Fucked Up!

I Lost Her!

Yeah, It Happens

Seems to Happen to Me Far Too Mucho Much!

***

“Shonnie: Just Some Last Thoughts & One “Reminisce”–

***

Important ‘Breaking News’ Re: Shonnie’s ‘Make-Over'”

Let’s Get This Out of the Way First:

“SPOILER ALERT!”

Do NOT Read Unless You are Already Familiar With The Story from Reading the Original Series.

Skip Ahead to Here:

Author’s Note:

Some of Y’all Faithful Readers… (That is Not Sarcasm. I sincerely appreciate all Y’all who read me and have ‘Read’ me over the years, and tears, and beers)

some of Y’all have probably noticed I have been re-visiting old work and endeavoring to ‘re-work’ same.

I am doing this because a few of the old posts still have value and meaning for me and hopefully for you as well.

Most do not, but there are a handful that do.

“Shonnie”, being one of them.

“Are you going ‘somewhere’ with this Lance?”

Yes. I just wish to inform Y’all that my ‘Current Mission’ is to re-write the entire Shonnie Series. Chapter One is Done. Now only Thirteen to go!”

Someone once told me, “Lance, your ‘Shonnie’ is probably the only ‘real’ writing you have ever done. Most of your other shit is just that: ‘Shit.’ Granted, some of it is entertaining shit, but ‘shit’ it remains. ‘Shonnie’ is the only one that will ever have even a snowflake’s chance in Hell of getting published. Provided you allow a good editor to slice and dice it.”

“Uh… Nice ‘talkin’ to ya. Thanks.”

****

I killed this Series a few years ago.

Pretty Certain Alcohol was involved.

Anyway, I brought it back, (With the help of Word Press—Thank you WP) if for nothing else, my own edification.

And every word I wrote, everything I recounted, actually happened as written.

(And of course, it was resurrected because I love Sheryl Crow. And of course, as a vain writer, I just cannot cotton to killing my own words, once dragged out of my mind and put down. Hahahaha! Writers! Y’all know what I mean.)

 Please Bare er, ‘bear’…  with me on this one Y’all.

Time always makes things (memories) better. This is how I cope. As for me and Shonnie, memories are multiplied, ‘super-sized’, if you will.

The words I wrote of our relationship are all too true. I do hope she never reads those words, as neither she nor I are strong enough to re-live those heady days. This is how life is and I suppose how it should be.

One is young twice, but old only once. ‘Once a Man and Twice a Child’.

And youth makes one do stupid shit based upon that ‘youth’, and then, if lucky, one has a chance for redemption later in life while old and hopefully ‘wise,’ and before that ‘Second Childhood’ kicks in, making one fairly useless, even if still lovable.

(Not religious redemption: human redemption) I do not apologize for my youthful indiscretions. They belong to me alone and I will carry them alone. 

If anyone has it in their head after reading my story of Lance and Shonnie, that I did not truly love her, that I allowed her to set me free for my own self-preservation, that I did not want to fight for her, then you may want to go back and read between the lines a bit.

And with that ‘mini-rant’ spotlight shined into my soul, I leave you with this idealized and fantasized version of what Shonnie meant to me.

(Ms Shonnie’s part played and well-acted by Sheryl Crow.) Yet as good as Sheryl is, she could never be as good to, nor for me, as was Shonnie.

Ever.

(But, I’d grant her an audition, none-the-less)

It shames me now to admit this but I was, back then, not strong enough to be Shonnie’s man.

Would that I could be granted a second chance

And, even now, today, I probably still am not. Never will be strong enough

If you are new here and confused, here is the beginning of this little saga: 

Shonnie, The Biker’s Wife

 Go there with my Blessing

And my Sympathy

Cheers! Y’all!

Below You Will Find Most Of The Original Posts. Once / If You Arrive At Thirteen There Are Links To The Final Few Chapters. Please keep in mind however, that each and every one of them is in the process of being rewritten: first to last. This will probably take at least two or three weeks.

UPDATE: The Shonnie Reconstruction Project is Completed.

Please read the new versions.

They are all still truth. Truth expanded. More detail, yada yada yada…

I deleted the links to the original versions.

The links seem to have been confusing.

The new ones are all easily accessible.

I re-Post This b’cuz I am Stupid. No One Will Watch The Vids, Why Do I Waste My Time on Y’all? Oh Shite! This is Stupid…

I Spend HOURS Seeking Out Apropos Videos To Share With Y’all. And Y’all Never Even Look at Them. So, Guess What? Fu*k Y’all! J/K! I’ll Try Harder

I May Be Be-Be–Comin’

Too Right–Too Right Wing–I Hate That!

SARAH SILVERMAN IS VISITED BY JESUS CHRIST

“When Does Life Begin?”

“At Forty”

“Get outta my Life! Right Now!”

“Okay. We Still Good For Sunday?”

Yes! I Am An Atheist

Have Been,

Ever Since I Learned to Read

OH! Fuk Editin’ This!

I Give! I Cry “Uncle!”

And Oh, BTW: Have a NICE / Fukk’d Up Day!

FUCK You WORDPRESS!

Case of the Mondays

“No! Shit No! Hell No! I believe you’d get yer ass kicked over sayin’ some stupid shit like that.”

***

Bad Day

Creds: Daniel Powter 

Have Nice Fukken DaaY

Cred: Who gives a Fuk at this point?

Did Red State Kansas JUST Vote to Kill Babies?!

Louder with Crowder

And Fuk Yes! I Have Met The Burn Pits–In Iraq and In Afghanist’stan!

Mutha Fuk Word-Press!

I am NOT Religious, But Fuk U

Just KIDDING! Don’t Grt All Excited!

“When Does Life begin?”

“At Forty.”

I Somehow “Managed” to Mangle it!

We are, each of us, all of us, complicated, worthy people, full of brightly brilliant ideas, passionate passions, boundless potentials and infinite possibilities.

We are “Writers,” which makes us just a little bit different, special, and weird.

(In a very good way)

We each have our own personal foibles, strengths, weaknesses, levels of humanity, quirks, degrees of sanity, degrees of insanity, levels of intelligence, variances of meanness, variances of kindness, oscillating magnitudes of mood, cascades of creativity, brilliance of brevities, vacillating verbosities, and on and on…

In short we are all individuals possessing something unique that only each unique one amongst us can share.

And THAT, My Dear “Special Writer-Friends” is what makes this vocation so Magical.

And so very fulfilling and so very rewarding.

***

Ninety-Nine Percent of my Writing is Autobiographical.

And I know from visiting the Blogs, that most of my Fellow Writers, at the very least, Write a good deal of same.

For me, I find it healthy and cathartic.

Your mileage may vary.

But remember Socrates’ renowned statement,

“The unexamined life is not worth living.”

Content Credit: “School of Life”

***

Some of us have our own personal agendas.

Some of us do not.

Yet, We, each and every one of us, is worthy: Agenda Full, or Agenda Empty.

Honestly, I am fresh out (of agendas) currently, but I am shopping for one to rent.

***

Upon ‘Sober’ Reflection…

(Yes! I have Quit for Good, The Drinking–Having Chosen Life Over Death Because I still have years and years and years worth of shit I want, need, to write and to share.)

Yes! Upon sober reflection, I realize I DO have an agenda after all: My ‘agenda’, modest as it may appear, is to spread a little joy and deliver a bit of enrichment into the people’s lives who honor me by investing some of that most valuable, finite commodity we ALL share:

“Time”

I work very diligently not to waste even one single moment of yours, because there is no such thing as a ‘Money-Back-Time-Guarantee’.

“Love It, Or We’ll Refund All Your Time Spent. With Interest. No Questions Asked! Guaranteed!”

Sorry. Don’t work that way.

Some of us are Brilliant, Talented Writers.

Some us are just getting started and may need advice from time to time. Just ask; you will most likely get an inbox overflowing full.

“So, You Want To Be A Writer?”

Street Cred for Vid: Shea, Et al.

***

Some of us are polished, published, poets, prose-writers, playwright professionals, some of us are copywriters, some of us are even journalists, some of us are a combination of a few or of them all.

Some of us have genetic talent.

Some of us must work harder at it.

Most of us suffer Writer’s Block from time to time:

Content Credit: “Ivan Kander”

***

But the fact that we are all here, grinding out word after word,

Proves our worth and our respect for our craft.

And the Fact that you are reading these words right now proves you have respect for your fellow writers in Our Wonderful Writer’s Community

I think what my ‘message’ is trying (and most likely failing) to eloquently say… is that I love the writers in my fellow writer community.

We all have worth.

(Well except for that worthless schmuck who don’t like Lenny Bruce… and Y’all know I am even just kidding on that.)

“Thank You Mask Man”

Video Share Credit: ThankYouMaskedMan1

Kinda

Not Really!

Never kid About Comedy; Comedy is Serious Business!

Never Joke About Lenny; Lenny is Serious Business!

And if Y’all Think I’m a Serious Person, and not joking, I am gonna purchase you a one-way ticket to ‘The Re-Education, Never-Take-Lance-Too-Seriously Gulag Facility’, recently re-modeled and up-graded–it has running water now.

And Gulag Goulash Every Saturday Night.

–Lance, Your Humble & Worthy Servant, Who Loves, and Respects, All of ‘Y’alls’.

*****

Bonus ‘Added Value’

Shakespeare & Marlowe:

Credit: Miramax

Yeah, I Am Drunken Indeed Pity Party Attendee. WANNA FIGHT? Meet Me Out Back. In The “I am Gonna Fuk U Up Parking Lot” Uh… BTW, Please Never Leave Me Shonnie!

Oh Shite! You Did? Really? Why? Dammnit! “Shonnie The Biker’s Wife: Just Some Last Thoughts & One Sad “Reminisce”–Important Breaking Shit: Er, I Meant, ‘News’

The The Words Around The Camp-Fire Are True!

Too True:

Lance IS a MORON!

Boo-Who?–Who Knew??

Bona-Fide Fact– N/M!

But Lance! Yu Ain’t ‘Bona-Fide!”

“Oh Yes, I Am!

Got The Proper Papers an’ Ever’thang”

My Oddis-sea-You Sea?

Subminimal Messages

To Be Found Within.

And I Am NOT Sorry!

(I Harbor NO Remorse)

Pay Yer Money; Take Yer Chances.

***

Holy Grail: Run Away!

Run

Run

Run Th’ Fuk AWAY!

“Better To Make A Good Leave Than A Bad Stay”

Cred: Joe Donahue

***

Re: Shonnie’s ‘Make-Over’ Or… “Happy Fric’n Trails!” P.S. I Broke MY Fan (And MY Fans)–Do not fret; Both Still X-sist–And I Incense–Uh, I Somehow Managed to Fuk That UP!

P

Cred fer Vid: LiliDVLima

Let’s Get This Out of the Way First:

“SPOILER ALERT!”

Do NOT Read Unless You are Already Familiar With The Story from Reading the Original Series.

Skip Ahead to Here:

Author’s Note:

Some of Y’all Faithful Readers… (That is Not Sarcasm. I sincerely appreciate all Y’all who read me and have ‘Read’ me over the years, and tears, and beers)

some of Y’all have probably noticed I have been re-visiting old work and endeavoring to ‘re-work’ same.

I am doing this because a few of the old posts still have value and meaning for me and hopefully for you as well.

Most do not, but there are a handful that do.

“Shonnie”, being one of them.

“Are you going ‘somewhere’ with this Lance?”

Yes. I just wish to inform Y’all that my ‘Current Mission’ is to re-write the entire Shonnie Series. Chapter One is Done. Now only Thirteen to go!”

Someone once told me, “Lance, your ‘Shonnie’ is probably the only ‘real’ writing you have ever done. Most of your other shit is just that:

‘Shit.’ Granted, some of it is entertaining shit, but ‘shit’ it remains. ‘Shonnie’ is the only one that will ever have even a snowflake’s chance in Hell of getting published. Provided you allow a good editor to slice and dice it.”

“Uh… Nice ‘talkin’ to ya. Thanks.”

****

I killed this Series a few years ago.

Pretty Certain Alcohol was involved.

Anyway, I brought it back, (With the help of Word Press—Thank you WP) if for nothing else, my own edification.

And every word I wrote, everything I recounted, actually happened as written.

(And of course, Youthful Indiscretion…Is Depressin’ it was resurrected because I love Sheryl Crow. And of course, as a vain writer, I just cannot cotton to killing my own words, once dragged out of my mind and put down. Hahahaha! Writers! Y’all know what I mean.)

 Please Bare er, ‘bear’…  with me on this one Y’all.

Time always makes things (memories) better. This is how I cope. As for me and Shonnie, memories are multiplied, ‘super-sized’, if you will.

“I Make The Rules Up As I Go…

The words I wrote of our relationship are all too true. I do hope she never reads those words, as neither she nor I are strong enough to re-live those heady days. This is how life is and I suppose how it should be.

One is young twice, but old only once. ‘Once a Man and Twice a Child’.

And youth makes one do stupid shit based upon that ‘youth’, and then, if lucky, one has a chance for redemption later in life while old and hopefully ‘wise,’ and before that ‘Second Childhood’ kicks in, making one fairly useless, even if still lovable.

(Not religious redemption: human redemption) I do not apologize for my youthful indiscretions. They belong to me alone and I will carry them alone. 

If anyone has it in their head after reading my story of Lance and Shonnie, that I did not truly love her, that I allowed her to set me free for my own self-preservation, that I did not want to fight for her, then you may want to go back and read between the lines a bit.

And with that ‘mini-rant’ spotlight shined into my soul, I leave you with this idealized and fantasized version of what Shonnie meant to me.

(Ms Shonnie’s part played and well-acted by Sheryl Crow.) Yet as good as Sheryl is, she could never be as good to, nor for me, as was Shonnie.

Ever.

(But, I’d grant her an audition, none-the-less)

It shames me now to admit this but I was, back then, never strong enough to be Shonnie’s man.

Perhaps Now,

I Can Request a

“Do – Over?”

No?

Thought Not!

And, even now, today, I probably still am not.

Strong Enuff

****

For Shonnie!

“Shonnie!!

Please Never Leave Me! Oh Shite!

(I once drove Her to Vegas—She, Right Then, Fell in-Love W/M!– ‘Nother Long Story… Sure You’ve already read it)

Yu Did? Well Mother-Fuk Me T”

If you are new here and confused, here is the beginning of this little saga: 

Shonnie, The Biker’s Wife

 Go there with my Blessing

And my Sympathy

Cheers! Y’all!

Below You Will Find Most Of The Original Posts. Once / If You Arrive At Thirteen There Are Links To The Final Few Chapters. Please keep in mind however, that each and every one of them is in the process of being rewritten: first to last. This will probably take at least two or three weeks.

UPDATE: The Shonnie Reconstruction Project is Completed.

Please read the new versions.

They are all still truth. Truth expanded. More detail, yada yada yada…

I deleted the links to the original versions.

The links seem to have been confusing.

The new ones are all easily accessible.