Just For Fun Re-Run: Escape From Memphis–Chapter Ten: Psychiatrist Interrogation, or “Last F*cking Chance Asshole!”

Attractive Young Psychiatrist Nancy began her questioning in earnest:

“How long have you been drinking?”

“All my life,” I said.

“No, I mean recently.”

“Oh, ‘bout forty days and forty nights.”

(No chuckle; guess she was gonna be all business from this point.)

“Do you feel like hurting yourself? She asked.

“Pretty certain that is what I am doing right now. You ever been on a ‘forty day/night drunk?”

“Have you ever attempted suicide?”

“Of course,” I replied. “Hasn’t everyone?”

“How many times?” She went on.

“Only twice, but they obviously didn’t take.”

“When was this? At what age?”

“First time, I was thirteen. Second time nineteen.”

“And what prompted these two attempts?”

“First time because my football shoes were too tight, excruciatingly so, and this was affecting my performance and my passionate desire to become a High School Football Star.”

“Describe your attempt.”

“I pointed a locked and loaded , hammer back, .45 Caliber pistol at the roof of my mouth for about 5 seconds, finger on the trigger.”

“And the second?’ she asked.

“Oh, that was just over a woman. I would not call that unprecedented in the ‘History of Man.’”

“Describe this attempt please.”

“Well, as I said, it was over being dumped by a woman, a thirty-year old woman and it was also over the fact that I could no longer afford the car payments on my Chevy Monza 2 Plus 2.  So I drank a pint of vodka and at a high rate of speed on a deserted Texas FM Road, turned a hard right and flipped the car. Thrice. I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.”

“Were you abused as a child?”

“Do you mean do I hate my mother?” I asked.

“No. Were you ever abused?”

“My Grandfather shot at me with a deer rifle once, but he had cause because I had just a few moments earlier knocked him off the porch with a pretty good right hook to the jaw.”

“Why did you hit him?”

“He was trying to beat my Grandmother and she asked for help. Granddaddy was a mean drunk.”

“How old were you?” She asked.

“’Bout fourteen and change.”

“Does alcoholism run in your family?”

“Naw, it just kinda strolls. I mean, far as I know, it was just me and Granddaddy.”

“Do you want to stop drinking, Lance?”

“Yes. I don’t fancy dying just yet. I’m not ready.”

“Not ready to die, or not ready to quit drinking?”

“The dying part.”

“So, you’d like help?”

“Sure.”

I watched her on the screen as she appeared to be writing a short essay on her note pad. After about  two minutes, she looked up and said,

“OK Lance. I am going to make arrangements to send you to a hospital in Garland. They have better resources to help you than here in Commerce.”

“How long will I be there? I am a busy man, ya know? OK, just kidding, but can you give me an idea?”

“Probably three days or so to get you past the delirium tremens and not sure how many after that. Are you willing to go to this hospital and allow them to help you?”

“I never much cared for Garland, but sure. One problem though, I cannot drive it just now.”

“The Hospital will make arrangements to have you transported, so don’t worry about that. You just try to focus on the treatment they will give you.” She said.

“TRANSPORTED??? “What am I? A truck farm product?”

“Thank you Doc, I will. And, by the way, I am sorry for being a smartass, but I suppose you get that a lot, dealing with drunks and mental cases. I do appreciate your time and your help. Thank you.”

“It’s Okay Lance. I am going to talk to the staff now at your Hospital and begin making the necessary arrangements. Take good care.” She said and then severed the connection.

I got out of bed and returned the IPAD to the Staff Desk and thanked them.

“How’d it go?” One of the staff asked.

“You know, you can’t get Netflix on this thing?”

Unnamed Staff laughed.

Finally! (Love it when I can make someone laugh)

“It went just Jim Dandy, I suppose. Looks like I will be leaving Y’all soon.” I said, and then returned to my little Hospital Cave.

And waited.

To Be Continued…

Chapter One Here  

Chapter Two Here Escape From Memphis–Chapter Two

Chapter Three Here Escape From Memphis—Chapter Three—Shawn.

Chapter Six Here  Escape From Memphis—Chapter Six

Chapter Eight Here  Escape From Memphis Chapter Eight.

Chapter Nine Here  Escape From Memphis–Chapter Nine

 

Last Chance Texico

Continue reading

Please Ignore My Posts For The Next Seven Days–I Am On A One-Week-Drunk. “Escape From Memphis–Chapter One”

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:

Street Vid Cred: kndfbl

******

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

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.

This Repost is For An Almost Friend. She Knows Who She is And Since She is NOT Stupid, SHE Will GET The Joke!

And Someday Regret The LOSS of a MAN Who Tried to Adore her, even from afar! And She ain’t even pretty! But she intriqued Me!

I will take intrigue over preety eight days of the week! Great Songs for a Rainy Day

(Goddamn Fucking Dammmnit! I MISS Madelyn!!!!! we Both loved Joni! Almost

Equally,

but it really wasn’t a competition!—

Fuk Her! I was suppossosed to die FIrST! T

hen I would not have to SUFFER!)—mADDY! yOU Bitch! You skinny cunt! You had NO Right to die and leave me!!!!)

Fuk Life and death and fuk me for falling in love with so many bitches I could never be in the same room with for more than five minutes!

Unless it was in a bedroom or in the backseat of my car.

In those rare cases I could stretch the time to six minutes!

BACKSEAT OF MY CAR

(This is Some of Paul’s Best Work—So Many Memories of Memories I Cherish of Listening to This Fuckking Album With Mostly Now Dead Lost Friends—I am Gonna Go Cry Now For A While—BRB!)

“Here in Savannah  Memphis it’s pourin’ rain
“Palm trees in the porch light like slick black cellophane.

“Will you still love me when I get back to town?”

vid credit: Christian T. Davies

Not really melancholy, but if I were, this song just might push me further that way, in that direction.

Peace,

-Lance

Real sorry, but I am now officially delirious with tooth pain. This tooth is some kind of bitch, let me tell ya.

Obviously sleep is not an option.

(The pain is just too overwhelming)

So… I just sit here and post stupid shit to take my mind away.

“Calgone! Take me Away!’

“I am as constant as a Northern Star.”

Vid credit: novaultrano1

“Constantly in the darkness? Where’s that at? If you want me, I’ll be in the bar.”

I guess it’s just a Joni kind of day…

“Laughin’ an’ cryin’. You know it’s the same release.

“I told you when I met you, I was crazy.”

Vid credit: Christian T. Davies

OK, last one and then I’m done (I really need to find something else to do with my hands)

“Diving down to pick up on every shiny thing.”

Video credit: JoniJourney

“Fell in hate and called it love”

One of her BEST Below

A beautiful tribute to an American Icon: Amelia Mary Earhart

(And yes. I know there is A LOT more going on in this song. I am not stupid.)

“Like Icarus ascending
On beautiful foolish arms”

–Joni

One of my favorite Amelia quotes:

“The most difficult thing is the decision to act. The rest is merely tenacity. The fears are paper tigers. You can do anything you decide to do. You can act to change and control your life and the procedure. The process is its own reward.”

Video Credit: sonicboy19

Bonus on “Hissing of Summer Lawns”
A great and respectful analysis

Vid Cred: For Most of the above: JoniJourney

(I am too lazy to Break it Down)

*****

Don’t let this Bring You Down. It is a Beautiful Song, Performed by a Beautifully Sensitive, Thoughtful Lady.

Street Cred for Vid: Leeshan

WTF Is It With You And Women Lance?–“I Love Them–Everything About Them–That’s What”

WoW!

She Amazes Me!

Yeah! Still Re-Shit-Posting!

I Love This Woman! She Enchants Me!

“Sandra! What Can I say?”

I May Have Lost My Feeble Sanity!

I May Have Lost My Feeble Mind

Vid Compile Cred: Funny Fancy

It’s a ‘Sandra Kinda Day’

I Am Way Lost in Sandra Space Today.
Okay?

*****

I Can Relate:

Never Hesitate

Too Many Daze

B4 I Wake Up

She Invades My Mind

*****

Bonus Track.

Don’t Even Ask Why.

Cred for Vid: Chadman2000

I Am So Sorry–“Sorry For What? Sorry For Being An Asshole?”

No!

Sorry For All Things I’ve Done & All The Things I’ve Left Un-Done–

Words I Should’ve Said–

Words I Should Have Left Un-Said–

“Abusive Lovely Muse–Chapter Two”

Keep Your Mouth Shut!

****

Cred: John Denver–No Shit!

***

I sat down and starting writing.

Muse was over my shoulder, massaging my hurting neck.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“My Job, Musing.”

“Knock it off! I am trying to work here.”

“Jesus! Relax.”

“Why don’t you sit down? I don’t need a spider looking over my shoulder.”

She looked a bit hurt and started to pout.

She parked her lovely self on my nasty couch. And glared at me.

I went back to my keyboard.

“Uh, Musey, What should I write?” I finally asked.

“You’re the fucking Genius; figure it out.”

“No! I do need and love you.”

“Write what is ON-YOUR-MIND.”

“My Erstwhile Girlfriend is on MY MIND.”

“Well, write that then.”

“Okay, I will. How should I begin?’

“A long apology letter might be a good start. And if YOU EVER CALL ME ‘MUSEY’ Again, I Shall Castrate You”

***

“Alright; I will start with that. Musey–Then I Ran Away–Not Un-like A Scalded Rabbit.

“Now we are getting somewhere.”

Chapter One Found Here: 

Next Chapter Found Here

This Post is in Such Serious Desperation for an Edification, or Maybe an Enema. Or Maybe Le Both-A–Shittin and A-Goin’ From Both Ends—Simultaneous.

Because I’m A Fukking Idiot. & A Chocolate Mess! And I Approach Life with a Laissez-faire Philosophy. i.e., I do Not Give A Shit. “Escape From Memphis–Chapter Le One”–Re-Load–Have Fun!

This Never Happened To Me

When I Got Out Of The Naveee!

Alas!

Kiss Mine Ass

(I lived Over It)

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:

Street Vid Cred: kndfbl

Joni! Joni! Joni!

I Love You!

You Are Such a Large Part of My So-Called Life!

******

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

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.

Dont’ Toss Us Away So Thoughtlessly

Yeah I Screwed up the punctuation.

Screw punct-U-a shun— and spelling too