Massage My Mind Message (Something Went Horribly Wrong With This Post. Thank You For That WordPress–Ass-Munch)

Vera Farmiga:

I Love This Actress!

UBH: Cast of Caricatures

Trust Me, Y’all.

This Post Makes Perfectly Coherent Sense.

(Just Apply Enough Alcohol)

Vera Farmiga:

“Comphy Numb

*****

  1. Sal (Hispanic Marine) Gift of Gab and Excellent Sense of Humor “Sadder than a Midget with a Yo-yo.” His quote. Not mine.

  2. Lydia (Old and Gray and Grizzled Away—but wonderful)

  3. Michael (Big dude. ‘Bout thirty stone.) We called him “Pete”—not sure why

  4. Christine (Bat – shit crazy. And obnoxious. And a bitch–but just for one day. Then she found politeness. And then fit right in with our “in-crowd.”)

  5. Jacob— Junkie—young junkie—Always wearing a Nirvana T-Shirt–nuff said.

  6. Phil—Texan—issues he had—showed up drunk Day One and checked himself in. Not sure how that works, but whatever.

  7. Nino (My ‘Roommate’) Did not like him, but he was there, so, what ever-the fuck-ever.

  8. Kelsey (my favorite ‘broken’ one’—loved her) “Take the Mary Poppins Unbrella and fly the fuck out of town.”

  9. And of course,

  10. Yannah…

  11. “T” I mean, “Ethel, the Pirate’s Daughter.” And cheater at Black Jack (and life in general)

No doxing here.

Whoops!

Too late.

This “Story” is going somewhere.

I just need to line up the cast and crew.

Stand by…

But one last quote from Sal:

“Kids are like little drunk Midgets.”

I promised him I would steal that quote.

Now I have.

Promise fulfilled.

P.S. This piece was more fun to write than it will ever be fun to read.

You realize you have a problem when you laugh at your own jokes.

“Time to seek council Son.”

“I heard you were a drunkard’s drunkard.”

“Never when I’m working!”

“Give me my sin again.”

“You kiss by-the-book.”

(Brook???)

(I LOVE SHAKESPEARE!)

“The one you have not yet written?”

And yes! My mind has departed for destinations unknown

***

Fun Vera-Facts:

https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0267812/bio

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vera_Farmiga

One of the MOST Beautiful (And Sexy Desirable) Women On This Planet. I am so Hopelessly Infatuated With Her! “SANDRA B! You Can Have Me! All of Me. Every Part of Me”

Willie Nelson – All of Me:

Cred for Vid: Carias205

***

Anytime.

Any Place!

“Doubt thou the stars are fire;

Doubt that the sun doth move;…”

Credit: Kelly Cheng

***

She Amazes Me!

She Enchants Me!

“Sandra! What Can I say?”

She is Enchanting.

I May Have Lost My Feeble Sanity!

If looks could kill

I May Have Lost My Feeble Mind

Vid Compile Cred: Funny Fancy

It’s a ‘Sandra Kinda Day’

"Love" is a Four Letter Word
So is "Lust"

I Am Way Lost in Sandra Space Today.
Okay?

*****

I Can Relate:

Never Hesitate

Too Many Daze

B4 I Wake Up

She Invaded My Mind

“Of course he had a gun.

This is Texas; everyone has a gun”

*****

Bonus Track.

Don’t Even Ask Why.

Cred for Vid: Chadman2000

Sorry Kids. I am stupid Drunk–Not Really–Had to Re-Post This—Expanded A Bit. I Miss My Navy SEAL Training Hazy Daze!

Happy Cockeyed Optimist.

“I’m Stuck Like a Dope With On a Thing called ‘Hope”

I am Stupid Naive!

Immature and Incurably Green

I’ve loved my life!

Cockeyed Optimist

Mitzi Gaynor

(From “South Pacific”)

Never Worry!

“Worry” is the most useless waste of human emotions

A waste of time and energy!

***

Video Credit: BobbyMcFerrin #DontWorryBeHappy #Vevo

Late entry/addition which no one will see. I drop it anyway. just a fond memory:

When I was in Navy SEAL training, late Eighties, we had, everyday, to run around with IBS on our head (IBS: Inflatable-Boat-Small).

This is part of a song we made up:

“Oh IBS! Stuck To My Head I Guess!”

The Instructors Often Filled Them With Sand.

Just For The Added Fun

Rock Portage

So Much Fun!

(One of My Shipmates Managed To Break His Leg While We Were ‘Performing’ This Fun Little ‘Evolution’.)


NAVY SEAL TRAINING: BUD/S

Surf Passage

I loved My Times Two Navy SEAL

Training Experience (’86 & ’88)

This Guy, Patstone, is Very Representative of Your

Typical BUD/s Instructor

I Think Somewhere In-A-Hidden, Very Top-Secret So Cal Location There is A ‘Clone Lab’ Where The Navy Makes These Guys

Instructor Patstone

Whom I Got To Know Too Well

(For My Taste)

******

One day, one morning, my class mustered and went to retrieve our assigned IBS’s. Someone in another boat crew was laughing manically.

WTF? I pondered.

I walked over to the boat crew.

“What is so goddamn funny?” I asked.

“Lookit this shit” one said.

I looked at their IBS.

One of the SEAL instructors had spray-painted on all the IBS’s

“Don’t worry; Be Happy.”

Video Credit: BobbyMcFerrin #DontWorryBeHappy #Vevo

***

I had to laugh.’

I did still manage to maintain my sense of humor, even though I knew I was probably gonna die that day….

Damn! I miss those days. And all the ‘good’ times!

Yeah. Believe what you’ve heard/read: SEAL training is BRUTAL. But ya gotta keep a sense of humor about you. Or at least in your pocket.

****

I love Barb in Her Sailor Suit!!

(Judy, You know I LOVE You Too!)

“Happy Days Are Here Again!”

Video Credit: George John

“The Gnats Are Back” Or “Gnat Pool Party” You Pick Yer Own Title. (As It May Suit You)

The Gnats are Back!

Now… where did I put that DDT?

Bobbie?

Girl! Reach me that DDT!

BUGS!

Shared Vid Cred: benjichilders

So, I am tryin’ real hard

(Yes it is hard. Hey! Get Yer Mind Outta That Gutter!)

Tryin’ real hard to tone down on the drinkin’.

Poured me a ‘HALF-GLASS’ of wine, (Not much more than would fill a hen’s ear) into a ‘Normal’ wine glass as opposed to my usual, ‘Barrel Glass Runneth Over.’

NE-Way….

Phone started ringing (as it sometimes do)

Set my glass on the counter and waltzed over to pick-up the phone:

“Hello,” I said.

Voice on the line asked,

“Is this Lance Marcom?”

“Might be. What do you want?”

“Mister Marcom, I am Helga with Corporation Blah, Blah, Blah. Our records indicate you are two months in arrears. When may we expect a payment to your account?”

“Let me get back to you on that.

My Fridge is running and I need to go catch it before it escapes.
Bye now.”

*Click*

Remembered my ‘Left-all-alone’ wine glass.

Went back to re-capture it and take it hostage for my liver.

Discovered the Gnats were having a Gnat Pool Party in MY POOL. Doing back-flips, canon balls, and competitive diving off the rim of my glass.

I rescued my glass and drank down the wine along with the Fun-Loving Gnats.

“That’ll teach ‘em, by God!”
I said to no one in particular.

*****

Footnote to the Story:

After taking Inventory, Discovered I was Dangerously low-on-Booze.

Needed to go shopping next day.

Gonna go down and shop at

“The Tom Waits Booze Emporium & Bicycle Shoppe”

Cheers Y’all!

Here is Another One That Never Gets No Play on ‘The Radio.’ Why Not Y’all? “Escape From Memphis–Chapter One”

MUST MUST MUST MUST!

This Song is the ENTIRE Point of the POST!

(And Sorry if I Buried The Lead)

“The Lamp is Broken on the Mantle”

Ed. Note to All You Nattering Nabobs of Nay-Sayers down there in the ‘Commentary Section’:
I say this:
‘This is “My Side” of the Story!’
Read Between the Lines if You Must.

(Or feel compelled.)

*****

Lance, No Longer Down an’ Out In

Memphis, Tennessee:

Yeah Lyle, I been to Memphis too.

Street Vid Cred: kndfbl

Joni talking about Memphis

Joni on Beale Street

******

“Walkin’ in Memphis”

Credit: Marc Cohn

*****

And SCREW YOU WORDPRESS For Not Allowing Me to Delete this below BROKEN Up-Load!!!

Stuck on STUPID.

******

She just sat there on the front porch, smoking Camel Blues, sipping diet Dr. Pepper, and watching as I scurried back and forth, worker ant-like, schlepping boxes and boxes and boxes and sundry other shit to my Ford.
Never said a word.
Never shed a tear.
I was leaving her!
What the fuck?
No tears?
No desperation?
No tears?
No tears?
No tears?
No nada?
English!
English!
English!
(You live with Meskins, expect beans on the menu, ever’ once in a while.)
English!

Stiff upper lip and all that jazz…
After I had packed the Ford to the point of tightness unimagined (you could have poured a bottle of Jim Beam into it and not one drop would escape), I walked to the front porch and announced,

“Well, I guess that’s it then.”
“You’re leaving now?”
“Yeah, that’s the plan,” I said.
She stood up, looked me in the eye. I threw my arms around her and hugged her deep.
Now we were both crying.
I managed to blurt out something profound…

“I’m so sorry Helen.”
“Take good care of you,” she said, blinking back the tears.
I slow-walked to the Ford, looking back through MY tears only once. Got in, cranked her up and drove away.
The part where the cowboy rides away…
Took me a block an’ a half to stop crying.
Then I was so over it.

And her.

Four blocks later I realized I could not see out of my side-view rear-view mirror. My dismantled computer chair in the passenger seat was blocking my vision. This would never do. I pulled into a vacant parking lot and jettisoned said computer chair.
Just left it there in the dust.

With my life.
Merry Early Fucking Christmas to someone.
Some homeless one in Memphis.
And drove on, westward.

Nine minutes later at sixty-five miles per hour, I was crossing the Big Muddy and entering Arkansas.

I had achieved escape velocity.
I turned on the radio.
Loud and proud.
CDB was screaming something about Trudy and telephones.
And calling her.

And jail.
I cranked it up and sang along.
Very happy and oh so fucking proud of me.
My new life had just begun.
Just another tequila sunrise.
As I drove west with the sun over my shoulder.
So many thoughts were flying around in my head, gnat like… buzzing.

I was almost giddy.
I was staring down six hours of road trip.

No big deal, but it had been almost ten years since I had taken to the road or air or sea, and I was just a mite apprehensive.
“You can do this Lance,” I whispered to me over the radio, now playing Van Morrison.
“Hear That Robin Sing.’
Hours and hours and hours into Arkansas (when did Arkansas get so fucking BIG?)

I found a trucker’s rest stop and so I stopped.
And rested.
And pee’d.
Had to.
Walked about
Had to.
Stretched my legs.
Had to.

“Where is Texas?” Halfway through Arkansas…. And halfway from what I had called ‘home’ for ten years.
“What am I doing?”
“Going West, Young Man, Goin’ West.”
“Oh yeah, I almost had forgotten.”

By and by I hit the “border”
(On the border)

Wanted to stop and take a selfie in front of the sign what read, “Welcome To Texas, Drive Friendly.” But it was Interstate and not safe to do so, so I just kept on driving.
And singing at me!

“Texas! Oh Texas!”
“You are finally home, Cowboy!”
Now what?
Keep driving, I suppose.
I had pre-arranged a ‘garage’ to store my shit.

A ‘rent-a-space’ shed in Commerce.
Got a phone call from the proprietor….

“Lance, you still coming?”

“Yeah, fast as I can, but I will not arrive in time for your departure. Can you HBO? Help a brother out? I will arrive Commerce about 1800 hours…. Leave the key in the lock box or something; I want to off-load my shit before I go to the hotel.”
“Sure, got a CC number for me?”
“Yeah, no worries.”
That sorted, I drove on.
Presently I arrived Sulphur Springs.
And promptly got lost.
Could not find the road to Commerce.

Well, shit!

It had been some years and beers and tears since I had had to make this trek.

Finally found the proper road and guess what?
It was ‘under construction’ as they do.
Took me some few little minutes to navigate through that, but…. Finally… on the road again.

Commerce in my sights now.
Sped into town, saw Whitley Hall, High Rise and shouted out loud: HOME!

“Thank fucking God!’
(And this was a push for me, for as you know, I am an atheist)
Found the ‘rent-a-shed’ and off-loaded my shit.
Went to the Adult Beverage Store.
Then found the Magnuson, formally known as “The Holiday Inn Express,” checked in, and got very, very, very drunk.

Chapter Two Coming…
Whew!
Chapter One is Done!
Writing is hard!
As is my wont, I drop in music.
Music defines me, and yes, my life has a soundtrack.
I suppose this don’t make me nothing special.
Just yet one more schmuck.
Trying to get by.
And Waiting for Godot
(Vain reference from my college / university daze.)

Beautiful Loser
Read it on the wall.
Blue moon with heartache.
Nick of time
“Scared you’ll run outta time.”
Love has no pride
This old cowboy—MTB

So many emotions were colliding around in my head, not unlike that stupid arcade game: asteroids….

Escape From Memphis–Chapter Two

Part threee may be discovered here:

New Life.  Video Credit: Cool Coyote  https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC9mNquw1Fc7beFfQ8OpnjRQ

Blinking back the tears.

I Love You! Patty Loveless!

My love is never less

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!