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

Un-Requited Love! (Abusive, Loving, Callous Muse)

Credit: The School of Life The School of Life

When last we left our hero…

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

“Will You Marry Me?”

No respond; Just a blank stare.

She retired over to the Nasty Couch, but not before gathering all her props:

  • Glass of Pinot.
  • Virginia Slim
  • Cell Phone
  • IPad
  • NY Times, Washington Post, And Waco Weekly Wipe
  • Attitude
  • Yeah. There’s that.
  • Always that.
  • Always That Attitude: Nuclear Option

*****

She sat down.

I tried to ignore her.

Failed.

Seated at my comp, pretending to write, I kept looking over my shoulder at her.

I stood up, walked over to her,

“Are you gonna answer my proposition?”

She looked up and pierced me with those piercing eyes.

“What proposition would that be?”

“The one whereby I begged your hand in marriage.”

“Oh, that. You were serious?”

Taken somewhat aback, I said, “Fucking yeah! I was serious.”

“Oh.” was all she said.

Then she said, “Let me ponder that for some moments. You do realize, I have other clients, and I am far removed from stupid.”

She continued: “Lance, you are charming, upon rare occasions, but… I am immune… to your charms. Ponder that.”

Then she snapped the NY Times back in my face and buried her head in the crossword puzzle.

I slinked back to my computer chair and immersed myself in self-pity.

Un-Requited Love!

Shit!

To Be Continued…

Bonus Track:

Sade!

Pronounced

“Shar-Day”

(You’re Welcome)

Dead Reckoning, Abusive Muse: This is The End

Baby, Please Don’t Go – Lightnin’ Hopkins

***

Impossible Dreamer

Video Credit: Christian Davies

Previous

I was not to be denied.

“Kate! Katherine! Muse!” I shouted, as I bounded from my computer chair over to her.

“I love you! Will you marry me or no? I must know!”

I stood in front of her, trembling.

She stood up, sidestepped the nasty coffee table, and walked up to face me at very close range.

She pierced me with those eyes. Looked down (almost sadly—I perceived—then took my hands into hers)

She looked back into my eyes and said,

“Lance, Baby, you understand I am not a real girl. You created me. I live in your mind and at your leisure.”

“Whaaaa?”

“Yes. I am a figment of your mind. Does not mean I don’t love you. I will always be here for you. And if you choose, I will love you. I will ‘write’ you, as far as you may write yourself. But ‘marry’?

I cannot.

You must write for YOU, and only for YOU.”

*********

She dropped my hands and sat back down on The Nasty Couch. Took a sip of Pinot, picked up her NY Times, took another sip of Pinot, and a drag off her Virginia Slims, and as if nothing had just happened, got back to being Her.

I retired to my writing chair. Sat there for some moments, tears welling, then smiled inside.

“She will always love me. She has no choice. It is all up to me,” I mused.

And then I got busy writing.

After some pregnant pauses…

“Hey Asshole! You better be writing something readable!” I heard from over my shoulder.

Yes! She loves me still!

                THE END

And Afterall:

Just to ‘Lighten’ the mood…

The Sudden Stark Realization That MS Muse Was Not Real…

Bummed Me The Fuck Out.

But I got over it.

Farewell Forevermore To My Best Ever Friend: My Abusive Muse. I am Sad, But Also Happy

*previous*

Farewell To My Best Friend:

The Abusive Muse

This pains me to write.

“Kate, We were only Yesterday.

Now we are…”

Today, and Yesterday, and Tomorrow.

“I love you, and I Thank You.”

Karen

Karen Carpenter!

You killed you!

And robbed us of You.

Why???

Why Oh Why?

Some of you good and loyal readers have been with me all the way on this Odyssey.

Others of you… not so much.

But if Y’all read-between-the-lines, you will discover how my sanity is a very fragile entity.

I ‘Created’ Katherine/MS Muse out of a ‘need’ I had.

To Fill A Hollow Vacant Void in my Heart.

I was lonely.

I needed her.

To kick my ass and make me a better writer.

I created her. Then I, Pygmalion-Like, fell in Love with Her. (Yeah, I kinda carried it too far)

She was always there. (‘Cept for the Snowpocalypse, when she invited me to fuck off)

I loved her.

I still love her.

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

Last real conversation I had with her:

“Lance, Baby, you understand I am not a real girl. You created me. I live in your mind and at your leisure.”

“Yes. I am a figment of your mind. Does not mean I don’t love you. I will always be here for you. And if you choose, I will love you. I will ‘write’ you, as far as you may write yourself. But ‘marry’?

I cannot.

You must write for YOU, and only for YOU.”

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

After sitting in front of my computer and trying to write, I looked over at her, sitting on The Nasty Couch with her NY Times, Pinot, Virginia Slims…

Walked over to her.

Offered my hand

She looked me in my eyes, took my hand.

Then she melted.

Turned into a pile of sand.

I screamed!

“What just happened!?”

A soft, familiar voice came at me from the ceiling:

“Lance, My Love, we are done. You are done. You are ready. I must leave you now.”

“NOOOOO!”

“Yes,” she said and that was it.

I fell to my knees and wept like a little pup/bitch.

Then I spied a note on the floor:

Picked it up.

It read:

“Lance, you were the best. I loved you. Write on!”

                –Kate

P.S.,JUST WRITE ASSHOLE!

Or Else!

–K

*****

I took that to the bank.

“Tennis Anyone?” –Didn’t Think So… Perhaps Dinner & A Movie Then?

A Sumptuous Feast. Fit For Any Beast:

OK: Ready, Set, GO!

(Or is it, “Game. Set. Match?”)

I am easily befuddled…

Got my evening all mapped out:

Dinner and a movie—then perhaps a little ‘hanky-panky.’

Alcohol may come into play!

Char-dun-Yay!

All The Way!

&

Sade. Sade. Sade.

Pronounced

‘Shar-Day!’

How many times must I re-mind?

Sade insisted we invite Tom Over!

“Sure,” I said. “Wanna invite your Mother too?”

My Dreams of Wooing, Wedding, and Bedding

Sade

Became as a Schooner, Sinking Slowly in The West.

(See somewhat below)

“And It hurts like brand new shoes”
—Sade
(Beautiful, sad, sad song…)

(See Below for Some Kris Sailor Fun)

(Sade’s Momma)

Tennis Never Really Was My Game—Just Sayin’

*********

Tom arrived–already Four Sheets into the wind:

Game ON!

Let’s Get this Party Started!

It was at about this time that

MS Muse showed up,

carrying a can of Whoop– Ass.

We all kinda settled down a little at this point….

I un-corked the wine and put in the movie.

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

Any and all laughs / jokes are on me,

But the Booze Ain’t Free

(Hit The Tip Jar on Your Way Out)

Merci!

(And Cheers!)

********

POST-SCRIPT FOR THIS UN-SCRIPTED POST:

In Case This Minor Detail Escaped Your Comprehension:

I LOVE SADE!!

POST-POST-POST – SCRIPT:

I’m NOT REALLY AN ASSHOLE:

(I just play one on WORD-DEPRESSED)

**********

POST-POST-POST-POST-POST – SCRIPT:

Watching Sade running down the filthy streets of (NYC?)

And past the ship docks…

Reminded me of yet another Strong, Determined, Beautiful

“I Will Not Be Denied”

Woman.

Whom I love, Respect, and Admire:

Barbra!

Best Line From The Song:

“At least I didn’t fake it.”

POST-POST-POST-POST-POST – POST-SCRIPT:

I love My Life.

And All My Ex-‘Wife’s

And All My Ex-Girl-Friends

And all the women I have had the honour to have known.

(Especially The Ones I got to Know in that ‘Biblical Sense’)

The very small and faint link below (Underneath Maddy) works… But WordPress IS STUPID! AND REFUSES TO EVEN ALLOW A THUMB-NAIL!

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

As Promised Above:

Kris is Mentally Ill–This is why I love His Texican Dumb-Ass.

(Did that sound Gay?

Fuck it!

I don’t care!)

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

One last ‘Fun Fact’

And then I’m Done:

If it had not been for My Second,

Lisa-The-Shakespearean-Marlowe Prof,

(No! Lisa was my ‘Third.’—My Memory is somewhat flawed at times; and math has never been ‘my strong suit’

(I don’t even own a suit)

–Rhonda was ‘My Second’–But who’s counting, right?)

But 3rd time’s Le charme, n’est-ce-pas?

I would never have grown to truly, properly appreciate Sade, if not for ‘Mrs. Marcom The Third.’

Lisa had ALL of her CD/s

And for some many months…

She is all we listened to…

(Over and over, and over—again–she made us Happy)

Coast-to-Coast

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

OH! Almost Forgot!

Lisa had one More Secret ‘Secret’ To Share

(I was Not Prepared—

for this One!)

She loved Madonna.

Had ALL Her CD’s as well.

Oh well!

Had no choice:

I fell in-love with Madonna too

********

“Happiness lies in your own hands.”

Ponder that.

How I live my life!

Only YOU are responsible for YOUR Own Happiness–

You are sole proprietor, caretaker, keeper of your own happiness.

No one, save you, can ‘make’ you ‘Happy.

It’s all on you.

Nobody else.

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

“Here’s to My Old Friend,” He said.

“And kissed his ass Goodbye.”

–Kris

Famous Texan

****

Ed. note 2021: My Third Wife, the Shakespeare one, once told me: Sade’s song is bullshit. “Hurts like brand-new shoes” as lyric does not work. Women in Somalia, never have brand-new shoes.”

I said back,

“Lisa, you really missed the point, didn’t you? I have been to Somalia. Have you?”

Must Re-Post Because I’m An Idiot. And a Sentimental Old Fool. “Leonard Cohen’s Muse–Suzanne Verdal, & Musing About Muses–Or, What You Will (“And you know that she’s half-crazy”–therein lies the attraction…)”

Suzanne Verdal:

Fascinatingly, Beautiful, Fantastic, Ethereal Woman.
And The Quintessential, Perfect Muse.
And this is gonna sound ‘messed up,’ but Suzanne reminds me of my Mother:
One of The ‘Original Hippy Chicks.’

My Beautiful Mother:


(Link Also Awaiting Your Perusal at the End of this Post–‘Turtle Blues.’)

No ‘New’ Prose From Me Found Here Today.

Just some very-much-worth-watching videos

If you are a ‘writer,’ that is

Enjoy.

I Will Pen Some-New-Shit…

Presently

Soon

Probably

Maybe

Hopefully

****

If you have yet to read my “Abusive Muse” Series,

you may discover the link at the bottom of this post.

Cheers Y’all!

And WRITE ON!

***

Suzanne is….

So Wonderfully Charming.

So Charming.

So Charming.

So Charming.

Suzanne

Cohen’s Writing ‘Process.’

(I cannot Find the Original Poster of this Post to Credit—G’dammmnit)

As Promised Up Above:

My Mother–The Original Hippy Chick:

Hint: Not Really My Mother, but how she saw herself

Original HIPPY CHICK

I LOVE You MOM!

(If you do not Appreciate My Sense of Twisted Humor, You Most-Likely took a wrong Turn at Albuquerque)

Twisted:

Video Credit:  ‘Joni Journey’