Henry Le Five

This too (not so much about women)

Not my painful, plainful verbiage,

but …

Derek

What a modern science actor!

(And a really swell guy)

“Lance, there you go again…”

“Sorry! On with the show!”

“Oh for a muse…of fire!”

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

I love Shakespeare. I love words. I love the simple fact that the only good advice my father once gave to me were the words out of his mouth: “Son, words have meaning and their coinage, well spend them well…”

Now… I am not that too heady. In fact, I am simple. Yet I do still love the coinage of a good phrase. Indeed I do.

Therefore, I leave you this. As all good Bloggers do, I desire a Stage! My Kingdom for a Stage!

Read… and… well…stay tuned.

And Kenneth Branagh At his Best

(Uh Oh! King Harry is pissed off!)

And Even Better

(and here, find the subtle wrath: you don’t wanna be these guys)

And Even More Better: “Once More Unto The Breach!”

And You Gotta Love This Guy: “In Thunder and in Earthquake”

 In my opinion this is Branagh’s finest movie

Henry The Fifth

Pygmalion-Like, I Created Her & Then I Promptly Fell Madly In Love With Her. Go Figure.

And it has occurred at me: I never ‘gave’ her a Proper Name.

I am gonna go with ‘Katherine.’

Works for me (And Hopefully, Her)

I was at my computer, banging out my latest travesty of prose.

As Was instructed/demanded by MS Muse.

Finished it and hit The ‘Publish’ Button.

(I NEVER allow Anyone, not even MS Muse, to proof-read nor comment or my so-called ‘work’ before I cast it out into the endless sea that is the Internet.)

Muse will certainly be the first to read it and then as she is reading it, I’ll stand by for heavy rolls and unhappy critique.

But this post is not about that.

I leaned back in my chair, cracked open another beer, and glanced over my shoulder at MS Muse.

She had not yet gotten the “Moron-Writer-Just-Posted Alert.”

She was preoccupied with working her NYT Crossword

(Using an INK PEN! Vice a PENCIL like all the rest of us Mortals. Who has confidence enough to do that? She does.)

As I was staring at her, she apparently became aware.

She put down her New York Times, stared right back at me and said,

“Now what?”

I cleared my throat, mustered all the courage and moxie I had remaining, and said,

“Will You Marry Me?”

It didn’t exactly go like this, but this here/below, is

MY FANTASY.

I can concoct it as however it serves my wont.

Or ‘want.’

Call it ‘Creative License.’

If you must.

To be continued…

P.S., I am in love with Carly Simon & Emma Thompson

(As if Regular Readers Did Not Already Know This)

She(S) was / is a bit of a slut,

But ain’t we all?

(I warmly embrace my ‘slutiness.’ It defines me)

Carly’s Slutiness Makes Me Love Her Even That Much More!

She is for reals!

******

Sorry Carly!

I should not have called you a slut–I live in a Glass House—

Casting Stones is Not Wise on My Part.

Yes! I Am For Real!

Sexy Goddess Elizabeth, My Last Wife, Chapter Two: “In France We Kissed On Main Street.” No One Even Noticed, Nor Even Cared. THIS IS WHY I Love France BeauCoup So Much!

We Were Young And In-Love—

Well, I Was Anyway.

In Young Love

FRANCE!

Wonderful Vid

Please Watch It

“In France We Kissed On Main Street”

Cred for Vid: MysticPieces

(Yeah, I know this is a really old photo, but my thought process goes like this: If Joni ever sees this it may piss her off just enuff to come see me and kick my ass) And I would cherish the ass-kicking. For the rest of my life.

I really have not much to lose at this point.

In France we kissed on Main Street

Video Credit: MysticPieces (oops, I did it again)

********

I was Free To Follow My Desire In Paris

We spent an inordinate amount of time in our lovely, comfy little love shack of a hotel room.

I had fetched along some of my most – favorite movies to share with Ela—Yes, at this point, she had instructed me to call her “Ela” because that was the moniker she went by, but reserved for her ‘closest friends.’—I figured ‘Lovers’—but whatever. I had made it to “Ela Status.” Hoped this boded well for our relationship.

Got one of the Hotel Staff to hook us up with a DVD Player so we could watch the movies I had brought to the soiree:

‘Cabaret’, ‘Hamlet,’ ‘Macbeth.’ Midnight Cowboy,’ ‘Henry V’–Just some ‘Light-Hearted viewing! HAHAHAH!

She loved ‘Henry V’ and ‘Cabaret.’

‘Macbeth’ and ‘Hamlet’ not as much.

We wasted (well, not wasted to me) a lot of time holed up in our little room watching these movies, drinking vin rouge, and making love. I was in Heaven. I had already seen much of The Paris I was interested in seeing (This was not my First ‘Paris Rodeo’—Had been to Paris several times already. As had she.

So we just drank, made love, watched movies, and fell deep IN-LOVE (for the most part)

We did occasionally go out, usually in the late evenings to stroll down the Champs-Élysées and hang out at the Café George V.

We were having a wonderful Paris Experience.

But, it was rapidly coming to an end.

She had to return to her ‘Main-Mundane’ in Springfield and I had to return to ‘Le Sandbox’ that was Iraq. We kinda grew morose.

Then I had one of those ‘epiphany things.’

“Ela,” I broached. “Why cannot we just extend our stay here a few more days? I can change our plane tickets, sort things out with the hotel. My job won’t fire me. I am too good at it, as I am sure you are at yours. Let’s stay a few more days.”

She blinked at me through teary eyes, embraced me, kissed me and said, “Oh Yes! Oh Hell Yes!”

Then I got on the telephone to sort out all the logistics and the dice were cast.

It turned out to be a not-so-very-good crap-shoot, but it took some time for that realization to make manifest.

To be continued…

Chapter One Here

The Shit-Post Storm Continues: Un-Abated! “Pygmalion-Like, I Created Her & Then I Fell In Love With Her”

“I’Ve Got Another one, Just Like The Other One!

I”ll Cred This Shit L’trer!

And it has occurred at me: I never ‘gave’ her a Proper Name.

I am gonna go with ‘Katherine.’

Works for me (And Hopefully, For Her)

I was at my computer, banging out my latest travesty of prose.

As Was instructed/demanded by MS Muse.

Finished it and hit The ‘Publish’ Button.

(I NEVER allow Anyone, not even MS Muse, to proof-read or comment on my so-called ‘work’ before I cast it out into the endless sea that is the Internet.)

Muse will certainly be the first to read it and then as she is reading it, I’ll stand by for heavy rolls and unhappy critique.

But this post is not about that.

I leaned back in my chair, cracked open another beer, and glanced over my shoulder at MS Muse.

She had not yet gotten the “Moron-Writer-Just-Posted Alert.”

She was preoccupied with working her NYT Crossword

(Using an INK PEN! Vice a PENCIL like all the rest of us Mortals. Who has confidence enough to do that? She does.)

As I was staring at her, she apparently became aware.

She put down her New York Times Got Up, stared right back at me and said,

“Now what?”

I cleared my throat, mustered all the courage and moxie I had remaining, and said,

“Will You Marry Me? I am in love with you.”

She slapped the shit outta me.

“Snap out of it!” She said.

“Close The Wound–Hide The Scar”

It didn’t exactly go like this, but this here/below, is

MY FANTASY.

I can concoct it as however is my wont.

Or ‘want.’

Call it ‘Creative License.’

If you must.

To be continued…

P.S., I am in love with Carly Simon

(As if Regular Readers Did Not Already Know This)

She was / is a bit of a slut,

But ain’t we all?

(I warmly embrace my ‘slutiness.’ It defines me)

Carly’s Slutiness Makes Me Love Her Even That Much More!

She is for reals!

******

Sorry Carly!

I should not have called you a slut–I live in a Glass House—

Casting Stones is Not Wise on My Part.

This is Just Too Good: If You Love Shakespeare, As Do I, That Is. If Not, Fry Your Mind Exploring Dostoevsky. And Good Luck In That Endeavor. (Helpful Hint: Vodka is Requisite)

This too (not so much about women)

Not my painful, plainful verbiage,

but …

Derek

What a modern science actor!

(And a really swell guy)

“Lance, there you go again…”

“Sorry! On with the show!”

“Oh for a muse…of fire!”

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

I love Shakespeare. I love words. I love the simple fact that the only good advice my father once gave to me were the words out of his mouth:

“Son, words have meaning and their coinage, spend them well…”

Now… I am not that too heady.

In fact, I am simple.

Yet I do still love the coinage of a good phrase.

Indeed I do.

Therefore, I leave you this:

As all good Bloggers do, I desire a Stage! My Kingdom for a Stage!

Read… and… well…stay tuned.

And Kenneth Branagh At his Best

(Uh Oh! King Harry is pissed off!)

And Even Better

(and here, find the subtle wrath: you don’t wanna be these guys)

And Even More Better: “Once More Unto The Breach!”

And You Gotta Love This Guy: “In Thunder and in Earthquake”

 In my opinion this is Branagh’s finest movie

Henry The Fifth

“We Few”

“We Happy Few”

“We Band of Brothers”

Did I Re-Re-Reely Repost This Already?–Screw It! I’mma Bored!—“Last I heard You were a drunkard’s drunkard”—-“Never When I’m Working”–Shakespeare In Love: Nurse

“Pygmalion-Like I Created Her & Then Fell In Love With Her”

And it has occurred at me: I never ‘gave’ her a Proper Name.

I am gonna go with ‘Katherine.’

Works for me (And Hopefully, Her)

I was at my computer, banging out my latest travesty of prose.

As Was instructed/demanded by MS Muse.

Finished it and hit The ‘Publish’ Button.

(I NEVER allow Anyone, not even MS Muse, to proof-read or comment on my so-called ‘work’ before I cast it out into the endless sea that is the Internet.)

Muse will certainly be the first to read it and then as she is reading it, I’ll stand by for heavy rolls and unhappy critique.

But this post is not about that.

I leaned back in my chair, cracked open another beer, and glanced over my shoulder at MS Muse.

She had not yet gotten the “Moron-Writer-Just-Posted Alert.”

She was preoccupied with working her NYT Crossword

(Using an INK PEN! Vice a PENCIL like all the rest of us Mortals. Who has confidence enough to do that? She does.)

As I was staring at her, she apparently became aware.

She put down her New York Times, stared right back at me and said,

“Now what?”

I cleared my throat, mustered all the courage and moxie I had remaining, and said,

“Will You Marry Me?”

MS Muse started laughing her ass Off

“I guess that’s a ‘No’ then?”

Screw it.

I’d Rather Marry Carly

It didn’t exactly go like this, but this here/below, is

MY FANTASY.

I can concoct it as however is my wont.

Or ‘want.’

Call it ‘Creative License.’

If you must.

“I Cannot Speak Your England”

To be continued…

P.S., I am in love with Carly Simon

(As if Regular Readers Did Not Already Know This)

She was / is a bit of a slut,

But ain’t we all?

(I warmly embrace my ‘slutiness.’ It defines me)

Carly’s Slutiness Makes Me Love Her Even That Much More!

She is for reals!

******

Sorry Carly!

I should not have called you a slut–I live in a Glass House—

Casting Stones is Not Wise on My Part.

Vid Cred: The Dramatics