Stage Four Zero Fucks Given Syndrome

I love becoming Sixty-Three.

I have reached that stage of life whereby I can say what-ever-the-fuck I want to say.

No Consequenes.

No Reprecussions.

No Nada.

(You got some ‘Nada?’—bring it!)

What the hell anyone gonna do to me that has not already been attempted?

I give zero fucks what anyone thinks of me.

This is so….

So…

So…

So Freeing.

I want for nothing.

I desire for nothing.

I need for nothing.

I am happy.

Content.

Saited.

I love who I am.

The rest of you be damned.

And take a one-way ticket to Hell.

And Board The Express Lane.

Put your foot on the gas.

A train possessing  brakes is just not exciting for me.

***********

Added value from a stupid post I posted on Facebook:

Fairly certain, fairly certain, Y’all are wondering what I am ‘into’ today.

“Take your good arm.”

(Or what is left-over of your mind.)

“And just wang it down.”

“Wanging” is good for the Soul. And good for the mind. It is Freedom.

“So, You Want To Be A Writer?”

(Vid Credit: Shea)

“Yes, I do!”

“I write; therefore I am”

–Bastardize quote from Rene Descartes.

Pounding out shit, day after day is sometimes difficult,

but when it ‘flows,’ it is fucking magical.

And worth all the agony.

I love it!

I love it when it ‘works.’

I despise myself when it doesn’t.

But I ‘sailor’ on.

One day at a time.

“Descartes said, “I think, therefore I am.” I say, “I do not think, that is why I exist.”

    –Taisen Deshimaru

Video Credit: EssentialDegnities

 

 

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.”

Invitation To The Blues

Back in some day.

Back in “The Day”

Right After I “Rocked Out” of BUD/s—SEAL training, I found me  on the USSSS  Useless Calaghan, DDG 994.

Having nothing better to do, I would take the bus from 32’nd Street Naval Base to Downtown San Dog.

Not much there.

‘Cept Titty-Bars.

I embraced them

Met a broad.

A Part-Time Stripper.

Just trying to get by.

We became fast friends.

Never a ‘fuck-buddy.’

Just a ‘Friend.”

We would hang out.

Sometimes on the beach.

Sometimes at Seaport Village.

Sometimes at places I cannot recall.

We were just friends.

I loved her friendship.

She always called me “Michael” 

Not sure why.

I possess an easily pronounceable name.

But she saw me as “Michael.”

I was good with that.

(I will answer to most any moniker.)

 

There’s a Gnat In My Beer

There is not a way I am gonna try to explain everything that is ‘going on’ in this photograph.

Suffice to say, it is just my attempt to ‘photo-document’ the gnats what are trying to steal my wine.

Yes, I realize they won’t drink much, but damnit!

They can buy their own wine.

And I could possible stab them, or ‘Raid’ Them.

But I won’t.

Because I do not wish to poison me over some Booze-Stealing gnats.

Certainly not interested in stabbing me.

I guess we will all just get drunk together.

The more the merrier. (I suppose.)

No! I do not suppose!

I tried to point out to / remind the gnats:

“I drink alone. Find some other place to steal wine.”

(Of course they ignored me and continued stealing droplets of my booze.)

Relentless.

Can’t fight ’em.

Can’t fuck ’em.

 Impossible to kill them all.

 

“The Letter Said He Was Reported Dead.”

“Near the front lines he’d been found

A mine blew his jeep into a twisted heap

And I still hear the sound

Of the wheel that kept spinnin’ ’round.”

*****

For some bizarre reason, this song reminds me of my first wife, Janet.

I suppose it is because she was in the U.S. Army Reserve and used to drive Jeeps for a living.

Or something.

I Loved Her Dearly.

And I respected her (Even though, she was ‘Certifiable Nuts.’)

Did not matter:

I loved her.

Still do.

This post will make no sense whatsoever.

Don’t Care.

It is just for me.

And Jerry Jeff.

And Janet Sisco

The more I explore old songs… songs that make me FEEL, the more I  come to understand the depth of my depravity.

This is not necessarily a bad thing.

My life has become a ‘rolling wheel.”

Spinning out of control.

Almost a whirling dervish.

But not quite there yet…

“The unexamined life is not worth living.”

Some smart guy once said that.

So here is Me:

Examining.

Stay Tuned….

Random Memories from The Middle East: The Road to Sharm el Sheikh

Since I am an arrogant snob and a pompous ass,  I add this ‘added value’ for those who never get me.

(You’re welcome.)

Drive Through.

dervish is a Muslim of particular religious order. … To call something a whirling dervish is to say that object or person resembles a spinning top or is wild in its movement. An object can also just be a dervish. The term twirling dervish is technically correct, as a dervish could be described as twirling.

More “Added Value:”

In Keeping With TTales & Hieroglyphs Virtual Ink Green Earth Policy…

“His whole life was short, quick and straight.”

Who does this remind me of??

Oh my Gawd! How I do miss him!

The Flat-Bed Truck and The Pastel Sun-Dress