WRITERS IN THE STORM

****

Writers in the Storm

Writers in the Storm

They are so forlorn

Just tryin’ to be Born

Like a page without a pen

Publish if you can…      

My Muse out there on the road

She’s just tryin’ to get home

She took long holiday

Now you’ve lost your way

Take her by the hand

Make her Understand

Your World on Her Depends

Her World will Never End

***

But Yours Will

–Lance Marcom, Wanna Be Writer

***

Added Value:

****

Song Dedicated to My Wayward Muse

Lena Horne – Stormy Weather (1943)

Cred for share: vintage video clips

***

“Stormy”

Santana

Cred for Vid: YVIE R.

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

(I am bleeding out of every orifice in my body–This probably portends some un-happy times ahead)

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

OH_MY GawD! How I Do LOVE & RESPECT Amelia! “Amelia, It Was Just A False Alarm,” My Darling Dear Brave Amelia, I Do SO Wish! It Were And… And You Still With Us. Merde Alors!

Yes! You Will Have to Scroll Down To Discov’r The

“Un-Happy”

Bit.

Screw It! This Post Is All Over Some Place–I’ll NEVER ‘Fix’ It–NEVER Ever! Read it as-it-Stands, Alone! All Nekkid and Alone!

***

When The Men On The Chessboard Get Up & Tell You Where To Go…

Then Yu Are Lost At Sea—-

Don’t Yu See?

****

I have spent no less than fifteen years in war zones.

All over the world.

Does this make me special?

Bet your ass it does.

I’ve see some shit.

Lived some shit.

Lost good friends.

Made new ones.

Moved on.

I’m gonna ‘Unplug’ for a spell:

For Mental Health Reasons

(Of Course All Y’all Faithful, Regular Readers Know I’m Lying–But It was Fun To Type That Lie: Just One of Life’s Simple Pleasures.)

Catch Y’all On The Flip-Flop…

And don’t forget to follow the white rabbit-Ribbit!

Down The rabbit hole—

If you dare,

I’ll meet you there.

Or if you require a second opinion…

Go ask Alice.

(I think she’ll know.)

*****

(Or The The Dormouse)

And Just-In-Case Somebody Wants to ‘Call Me Out’ On My Spelling:

dormouse is a rodent of the family Gliridae (this family is also variously called Myoxidae or Muscardinidae by different taxonomists). Dormice are nocturnal animals found in Africa, Asia, and Europe, and are particularly known for their long periods of hibernation

*****

(“Hibernation” is probably an option I should Explore.)

****

*****

“Yeah. Sure. I’ll Go.”

****

Go ask Alice

*****

Go Ahead: Feed Your Head.

Feed Your Head.

Feed Your Head!

******

For Amelia, Grace, Janis, Karen, Janet, Ela, Sheila, Rhonda, & and Five Dozen Others & More:

Too many mountains and not enough stairs to climb
Too many churches and not enough truth to find
Too many people and not enough eyes to see
Too many lives to lead and not enough time

She’s gone too far

She’s lost the sun

She’s come undone

Vid Street Cred: jthyme

Fun Fact: The Observatory In The Vid is Mt. Palomar. (sp) Yes, I Have Been there. Goth-The-T-Shirt

*

Too many lives to lead and not enough time

Too many lives to lead and not enough time

Too many lives to lead and not enough time

*****

And when she found out she couldn’t fly

It was too late

MS Icarus

Justin Case…

(Well, You Already Know)

*****

Like Icarus Ascending,

Amelia,

It Was Just A False Alarm.

“Then Your Life Just Becomes A Travel Log”

Please Just Listen To The G’Damn Song!

And Watch The Fukkin’ ViD!

***

Joni Is SO Un-Pretentious!—

So Much Like Amelia!

I Absolutely

ADORE

Her!

Both of Her!

This Asshole Guitarist is a WASTE Of Time!

Sorry!

I am too Lazy to Edit Him Out

And P.S. “I Never Met A Dyke I Didn’t Like

(I Stole That line From Lenny)

(Street Cred Vid: sonicboy19)

A most beautiful, wonderful tribute.

Sung by a most beautiful wonderful woman.

Thank you Joni:

“Maybe I’ve Never Really Loved:

I Guess That Is The Truth…

Ruth!

*****

Anyone Who Reads Me

Knows How Much I love & Admire

Great Women.

Guess What?

Amelia Earhart

Is One of the Greatest, Bravest vet o’ Of Them ALL!!

The Sounds Of Silence Are Defens-ing Expanded & Really, Really Stupid–A Pity-Party for Me.

This is Really Stupid, Yet Deserves Just One Last Re- Look. With Me? “Come Along Grow Old With Me; The Best is Yet to Be” (I Stole that verbiage off’n an old sundial I discover’d in My Daddy’s Backyard N/M!

Word Around the Campfire: “Lance is Drunk”–Again) (Snow, Texas (NO) Power & Light, Abusive Muse: True Love of My Life, All Mish-Mashed Together. Snow Ice-Cream Anyone? I’m buyin’. BYOVE–Bring Yer Own Vanilla Extract: I drank all of Mine

Lance’s Little Chariot:

***

“Lance This Is Your Life”

I fucking LOVE THIS MOVIE!

I almost ‘did’ this scene (first one below) in 1979 when I flew from The Sinai Desert, Egypt to Texas to STOP the Wedding of My Highschool Sweatheart.

I was 4 hours late! By the time I got there, they were already heading for their honeymoon in Waco! Worst day of my young life up to that point!

P.S. My Girl was even more beautiful than Kate Ross

True Story!

Now What?

U Caught Her

What Yu Gonna do With Her??

Throw her Back?

Don’t Think so!

Vid Share Cred: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UChZE6YO1kG7YVD9DJ4oDGOw

An aside: Katherine Ross is The Most Beautiful Woman In The History of “Woman.”—Except for MY GIRL–But Precisely Why My MS Muse is Moniker’ed “Katherine.”

I cannot doxx My Girl by Naming My Muse After Her…

And “The Graduate” is one of the Greatest Movies Ever Made.—Don’t Believe Me?—Just Ask My Muse, Katherine. She’ll Set You Straight as you are picking yourself up off the floor. (Remember, She has that Devastation Right Hook. And, Trust me on this: She Does Not Suffer Fools)

And Yes!

I wrote a University Paper On This Movie as Well.

For My “Film & Literature Class”

***

Woke up in Total Darkness

And To The Sound of Silence. 

No CNN White Noise.

No computer purring/whirring.

Not even MS Muse Stirring.

WTF?!

Power was out!

Looked out my back door.

Then it all made sense.

Shut the door and went back inside.

Fumbled around and found my flashlight.

Discovered a note pinned to my pillow.

It was from MS Muse (Who else?)

It Read:

“Hey Asshole, (She is so sweet), I am mounting my broom and flying the fuck outta this dump. You may reach me at The Magnuson Hotel (they have a backup generator) once you get this shit sorted and the lights back on.

Meantime, Light a candle and continue working.

I’m watching you. Never think I’m not”

First time I heard this Bill Withers’ Masterpiece, the Radio Man came on immediately after the song had finished and provided his ‘insight:’

He said,

“I counted the ‘I know, I know, I know’s’

Twenty-Four.

And you’re welcome.”

I had to laugh because I was tryin’ to count them too.

I lost count and failed. DJ Man succeeded.

Guess that was why he was spinning records for money.

And I was spinning my wheels in Small-Town Texas World.

For No Money

**********

And Never Forget Ann Bancroft, aka:

‘Mrs. Robinson’

WP Will Not Allow Me to Properly Edit this

FUCK U WORDPRESS!

***

Are You Trying To Seduce Me?

Guess What?

Your Efforts Are Working

*********

Added Value For “Upbeat” Happy Purposes Only

Few Better Than ‘The Dino’

Vid Cred: I Don’t Recall

This Post Needs A Brutal Editor. Sadly, I Am Not He. And Yes. The Rumors You Have Heard Are True: Lance Is Insane.

This is Ded-Eye-Cated To A Woman Of Whom I Am Rather Fond, But Who Hates Me (Whew! Dat’s A bold Statement Cowboy) Her Name Begins With An ‘M’ and ends W/An ,,, N/M–No Doxxer Here! Not I. She Won’t read this NEway. “Shonnie The Biker’s Wife VI: Vegas’ ‘Soft Porn’, or ‘Blue Hotel Room’

Dedicated to the One I Love

And The Darkest Hour is Just Before Dawn (Or Mary, or Sue–I am easily Confused—Easily)

Author’s Apology: The Font(s) in this post are WAY Too Large, but WP will NOT Allow Me to FIX This. Once Again, I find me apologizing for the Lame-Azz inadequacy of Word-Press

***

Vid Share Cred: Folk Experience

******

Do NOT Read This With Kids Around!
It is Christmas time
Go Wrap the Presents, or sumthin…
Git Yer Mind Outta My gutter.
I Live There all alone
Merry Christmas

*****

Survey sez:

“Lance, You will be spending Yet Another Christmas All Alone.”

Lance sez, “Well, at least this time I am not in Iraq or Afghanistan or Sinai, and I do trust no one will be shooting at me…. Right?

“Don’t venture out.”

“Okay. Good advice. Thanks.”

“Da nada.”

*******

Shonnie Saga Continues:

Unsuitable for minors and miners, and especially casual diners:

Adult Content

If you find yourself on the

‘Prude Side of the Pew’,

You may want to skip this one.

(And That’s a Joke, Y’all.)

Relax!

Lock your screen if you need to step–away from your computer for a moment.

***

She extinguished her Marlboro and stood up. Nonchalantly dropping her robe onto the floor, she lay back on the bed. Seductively, she brought her left knee half-way to her chin, then turned slightly to face me.

I had to pause for a moment to fill my eyes. Her petite body approached perfection. Very light-skinned, almost cream colored–warm cream–French Vanilla, like for coffee.

She was so silky-smooth-to-my-touch, everywhere I touched.

With smatterings of freckles ‘strategically’ placed here and there, she could best be described as almost ‘Half-Ginger-Cinnamon-Girl’.

With Attitude

Cinnamon Girl

The combination of all her traits nearly made me believe in a God.

No. They Made me Actually Believe in a ‘God-Ess’, specifically ‘Aphrodite’ and her descendants, one of whom I held captive inside a Blue Hotel Room at that very moment in my time.

Yep

‘Aphrodite’

Much more accurate.

And here is why:

The Good, The Bad, and The Beautiful

The Good:

Justice: Aphrodite Always Helped The He who was forever teased and tormented by The She, The She with whom He was hopelessly in love.

Joyful: Because she was the Goddess of Love, she brought joy and laughter to mortals. (‘Weren’t no thang; just a happy collateral side-effect.’)

Beauty: Aphrodite was most Beautiful and Seductive, The Most Beautiful and Seductive, and she brought her ‘beautiful seductive’ to everyone who was lucky / unlucky enough to know her, or only even of her.

(Lucky or Unlucky?) Kinda depended upon one’s frame of reference and the eventual outcome. Your mileage may, or may already have–varied–Contingent upon your age, I suppose)

The Bad:

Treacherous: Aphrodite did not love her husband Hephaestus, so she sought out Ares.

Malicious: In the story of “Aphrodite and Psyche,” Aphrodite heard of Psyche, and jealous of all the attention people paid to Psyche, she summoned her son Eros, and had him put a spell on Psyche, thus ruining her day, and indeed, the rest of her life for that matter.

Jealous: Aphrodite did not want any mortal to be more beautiful than she. And she just would not tolerate it, not even the mention of the possibility of it.

Period.

End of that story.

Greedy: When she saw pretty things, she took them.

And I can attest to the veracity of this. Shonnie, descendant of Aphrodite, found my heart to be a ‘Pretty Thing,’ so she took it. She has never given it back either.

The Beautiful:

“A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words”

Do any of these traits strike you as being vaguely familiar?

Remind you of Someone?

Well they should, if you have been paying attention.

Here’s a Hint:Related by Marriage to a Biker

Not Actually Her: Just A Reasonable Facsimile

(Full Disclosure:  ‘Blond’ is not my usual ‘type’—truly I have always been a ‘semi-tall-brunette-with-a-tan’ man; never had any luck with blonds at all, but then, Shonnie was a different kind of blond, now wasn’t she?)

***

The sun was setting outside the huge hotel window and cast a slight shadow over her. Her hair was still semi-damp and fell down perfectly over her breasts, slightly curling up at the ends. Her right leg was seductively raised up, bent at her knee and turned slightly to the side.

(Yes. Yes! I know! I already mentioned this pose. Please allow me the simple, sinful pleasure of revisiting that image just-one-more-time-in-my-mind. Thank you.)

Her pose thus denied me any direct look at my lustfully desired objective, but I was confident I could find it.

A better scripted scene could not have been created by even Howard Hawks. (Thinking ‘To Have and Have Not’ here—Bogie an’ Bacall).

“Anybody got a match?”

“Yeah, Shonnie & Lance”

***

I continued to draw the scene into my mind, hoping to meld it permanently with my memory cells. Joni began singing “Blue Motel Room” on the boom box.

“You window shoppin’, or are you coming into the store?”

“Into the store,” I said, “I have spied something interesting enough to draw me in.”

I knelt down at the foot of the bed, picked up her right leg and kissed the underside of her foot, then took her big toe into my mouth for a moment or two sucking it; licking it.

Then I began working my way up her calf to the inside of her thighs, ever so slowly back and forth, ‘thigh to thigh’, I suppose you could say.

At this point she was beginning to writhe a bit. I proceeded north and just as ‘Blue Motel Room’ ended, I began.

Tantalizingly slow at first, then faster and faster, then slowly again… occasionally gently sucking her clitoris, alternating with circular tongue motions, also mixed in with rapid back and forth tongue movements.

While Joni sang ‘Song for Sharon’, a rather longish song, I brought Shonnie, by my count, to three or four climaxes. (But what do I know? Well, I WAS THERE, after all, and I felt her contractions in my mouth.)

I was about to lose it myself so I threw my back down beside her, pulling her on top of me. Grasping her so fine, firm little ass.

She suddenly sat bolt upright, straddling me, grabbing my arms and pinning me down. She passionately fucked me with what could almost be described as ‘pure sexual violence’.

(No ‘making love’ in this instance; we had succumbed to our basic ‘animalistic’ instincts!)

Embarrassed to report, but about twenty seconds after I entered her, I was spent. She didn’t complain though. She rolled off of me and lay on her back, both of us panting, sweating, but completely and blissfully sated (and spent)

Joni began singing ‘Refuge Of The Roads’.

***

Another Thinly Veiled Foreshadowing?

Perhaps…

“Another Fuckin’ Song Lance? Really? You’re Wearing us OUT!”

“This one is Important. Very Important!”

“It is Joni’s song, yes.

“But more than that, way much more than that,”

“It is Shonnie’s Song.”

Not requisite that you listen, only requested, but it sure would make-my-day if you did listen. The Words are important.

–Lance said That

“And… if you DO Watch/Listen, you will ‘auto-magically’ be entered into the First-Ever…”

“Texan Tales & Hieroglyphics”

“Give-Away of Free Stuff Lottery”

(Quantity and Quality of Stuff Subject to Availability)

‘Availability’ of money in the author’s bank account.

Good Luck!

***

Shonnie said, “Reach me a cig, will ya Baby?” (First time she had called me ‘Baby’. I loved the way it sounded coming from her slightly course and throaty voice.

I lit two Marlboros at once, ‘Movie Style’, handed one to her. We lay back, smoking and began (between giggles and exchanging ‘We are so great, and proud of us’ looks) a smoke ring competition.

(I lost.)

***

Cigarettes dispatched, Joni run out, silence now, Shonnie once again broached the subject,

“Are you ever gonna show me this town?”

“Yes, I am. Let’s get to it, shall we?”

***

There is Always Gonna Be At Least One Critic:

Previously:

“Shonnie The Biker’s Wife, Part VII: A Crappy Star is Born”

***

Commentary Section From Original Post.

For continuity, please read from the bottom up.

***

27 THOUGHTS ON “SHONNIE THE BIKER’S WIFE, PT VI: VEGAS’ ‘SOFT PORN’, OR ‘BLUE HOTEL ROOM’”

LAMarcom July 22, 2014 at 19:36 Edit

Actually with just a little practice, they are quite easy to produce. Of course it helps a lot if you’re a smoker…

Thanks very much for your visit.

Tony Single July 22, 2014 at 18:33 Edit

I thought smoke rings was something they only did in cartoons? I almost want to take up smoking to see if it can be done in real life!

LAMarcom July 21, 2014 at 17:49 Edit

Hehehe,

Thanks so much.

Cheers,

Lance

NancyTex July 21, 2014 at 08:25 Edit

Total lady-boner material right here. Well done, Lance.

LAMarcom July 16, 2014 at 12:31 Edit

It was, yes, one of those ‘wow’ moments.

😉

Thanks for reading and for the great comment.

Wow!

Cheers,

Lance

LVital7019 July 16, 2014 at 12:25 Edit

HEL-lo! Inaword: Wow. 😉

LAMarcom June 23, 2014 at 19:12 Edit

evil grin *

Thanks Sandra!

Sandra June 23, 2014 at 18:42 Edit

Dang is the AC broken again? No, it’s just Lance telling another story. 😉

LAMarcom June 22, 2014 at 11:12 Edit

Haha! You know, wh@t happens in Vegas… Well, you know.

Thanks Annie for reading my ‘Blue’ Hotel Room.

Cheers,

-Lance

Mad Annie, Bronwyn, Ann June 22, 2014 at 10:58 Edit

I know it is hot in Vegas, but REALLY! LOL

LAMarcom June 22, 2014 at 10:13 Edit

Don’t touch that dial!

🙂

LAMarcom June 22, 2014 at 00:57 Edit

Really?

Money?

Cash money?

Hahaha!

And I spent all that time reading an’ watching ‘Macbeth’

And trying to emulate Shakespeare and Marlowe…

Sadie,

You always make me smile!

My Friend!

🙂

~ Sadie ~ June 22, 2014 at 00:52 Edit

WOW Lance – women pay money for this shit . . . just saying . . . 😉

Looking forward to Part 7!!

LAMarcom June 22, 2014 at 00:23 Edit

And sexy, eh?

Laughing out loud!

Tis a true story, by the way.

Shonnie was just that… sexy.

I miss her!

Anonymous June 22, 2014 at 00:20 Edit

Wow!

Intense!

LAMarcom June 22, 2014 at 00:16 Edit

Sadie, I am just a guy with a desire.

To write.

Thank you.

~ Sadie ~ June 22, 2014 at 00:12 Edit

Lance – I haven’t even read it yet – in the middle of 3 diff things BUT def reading before I go to bed tonight. Just had to tell you when I checked my email & saw the new installment I was all frickin excited dancing in my chair & chanting yay yay yay!!! I have absolutely loved this series of stories. GREAT job in the writing & the execution, keeping us all waiting with bated breath for your nest chapter!!! 🙂

happierheathen June 21, 2014 at 23:44 Edit

My weakest point is, alas, understanding things. But I’m a-hang around just the same because fading away is something I ain’t mastered yet, either.

Keep ’em coming, my friend!

LAMarcom June 21, 2014 at 22:53 Edit

yes.

Frame of ref here, David.

My mind is all over some place.

LAMarcom June 21, 2014 at 22:51 Edit

Happily enuff, It is coming.

After the bliss what was the bliss, that was, Las Vegas.

For us.

(You see? I have to build the bliss, before the remiss.)

Shorely, Certainly, (Shirley?) you, of all people, understand.

The unrequited bliss.

David Scott Moyer June 21, 2014 at 22:43 Edit

Used to be???

happierheathen June 21, 2014 at 22:41 Edit

Oh man, I was looking for the weird and all I got was that Lance got laid. Where’s the weird? I wants the weird! 😀

LAMarcom June 21, 2014 at 22:20 Edit

Most assuredly, the pants.

Loosen ’em up a mite.

Then you will be fine.

With wine.

And thanks for reading.

(Don’t tell anyone I used to be a pervert.)

Please!

Anonymous June 21, 2014 at 22:16 Edit

Whew! Is it hot in here or is it just me yoga pants?

LAMarcom June 21, 2014 at 21:59 Edit

Lee, I thought you had banished me due to my Socialist Lean.

So glad ya didn’t.

Thanks my old good friend!

Keep reading.

It does get ‘weirder’

Lee June 21, 2014 at 21:40 Edit

whew!

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)