Up-Dated–Added An Excellent Video. “Hem–My Hero–Everyone Needs A Hero.” Right? (Truly Screw’d This Post Up, But What Would You Expect? I’m A Drunk, NOT An Alcoholic–I Don’t Go To Meetings)

QUIT DRINKING ALCOHOL –

Easily Said.

Impossibly Done

One of The Most Eye Opening Motivational Videos Ever

Credit: MotivationHub

***

My day as an Active alcoholic | Withdrawals | Alcohol damages your body

Street Cred: 1Sober2Another

***

Damn Waste–That He Blew His Head Off With A Shotgun! Why, Oh Why? Why Did He Rob Us–Of All The Words Which Still Remained In His Head? Why!?? Asshole!”

ERNEST HEMINGWAY EXPLAINED:

Yeah, In My Humble Way, I Can Too Much Relate.

And, Sorry About The Rather Longish Commercial, But It Would Be Un-Gracious Of Me To ‘Edit’ It Out–

So I Won’t

Cred-For-Vid: Sisyphus 55

Sisyphus 55

***

A Guide To Alcoholism & Addiction

Damn Waste–That He Blew His Head Off With A Shotgun–Good I Don’t Have A Shotgun. For I May Have Been ‘Tempted’ ‘Lured’ Into Doing ‘The Right Thing’–And Going Out With Honor

Just Like Hem

Bonnie Tyler – She Needs A HeroI

Thought I could Fill That Role When I was

(X2–Always Gotta Get THAT In)

Attending Navy SEAL Training

Ever’One Needs a Hero/Role Model to ‘Model’ One’s Life By.

Hemingway Will Always Be “My Go-To Guy–

Always, Until That Day I Die

A Guide To Alcoholism & Addiction

***

“The way into understanding him is through the relationships with women in his life.”

— Lynn Novick

“I can’t imagine how toxic it must have been to have been around him.”

-Ken  Burns.

“I can easily imagine it.”

Lance Marcom

“All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know.”

–Hem

“I could only care about people a very few at a time.”

-Hem

“Wherever he was. Whatever he was doing. Alcohol fueled everything.”

–Ken Burns.

“I have drunk since I was fifteen and few things have given me more pleasure.”

–Hem

I Whole-Heatedly Concur Ernest–Yep I Do

–Lance Marcom

***

She shot very well this good, this rich bitch, this kindly caretaker and destroyer of his talent. Nonsense. He had destroyed his talent himself. Why should he blame this woman because she kept him well? He had destroyed his talent by not using it, by betrayals of himself and what he believed in, by drinking so much that he blunted the edge of his perceptions, by laziness, by sloth, and by snobbery, by pride and by prejudice, by hook and by crook.

What was this? A catalogue of old books? What was his talent anyway? It was a talent all right but instead of using it, he had traded on it. It was never what he had done, but always what he could do. And he had chosen to make his living with something else instead of a pen or a pencil.

It was strange, too, wasn’t it, that when he fell in love with another woman, that woman should always have more money than the last one? But when he no longer was in love, when he was only lying, as to this woman, now, who had the most money of all, who had all the money there was, who had had a husband and children, who had taken lovers and been dissatisfied with them, and who loved him dearly as a writer, as a man, as a companion and as a proud possession; it was strange that when he did not love her at all and was lying, that he should be able to give her more for her money than when he had really loved.

–“The Snows of Kilimanjaro”

***

It was now about three o‟clock in the morning and Francis Macomber,
who had been asleep a little while after he had stopped thinking about
the lion, wakened and then slept again, woke suddenly, frightened in a
dream of the bloody-headed lion standing over him, and listening while
his heart pounded, he realized that his wife was not in the other cot in
the tent. He lay awake with the knowledge of two hours.


At the end of that time his wife came into the tent, lifted her mosquito
bar and crawled cozily into bed.


“Where have you been?” Macomber asked in the darkness.
“Hello,” she said. “Are you awake?”
“Where have you been?”
“I just went out to get a breath of air.”
“You did, like hell.”
“What do you want me to say, darling?”
“Where have you been?”
“Out to get a breath of air.”
“That‟s a new name for it. You are a bitch.”
“Well, you‟re coward.”
“All right,” he said. “What of it?”

–“The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber

****

“I would rather have one honest enemy than most of the friends I have known.”

–Hem

Internet Will NOT Allow Me to Down-Load/ Steal This! Grrrrr!!! Nor Even ‘Credit it! Fuk U Internet! Trust Me Kids; I WILL Find ‘A Work-Around–I ALWAYS dO!

Was Ernest Hemingway a Misogynist? | PBS

https://www.britannica.com/biography/Edna-OBrien

****

Having Received My SS Check Early (For Once Upon A Life-Line) I Turned My Mouse House UP-Side Down Searching For My Check Book.

And Yes, I Looked High an’ I Looked Low…

Discovered NO Satisfaction.

What – Ever Does This Mean? You May Ask.

It Means, Dear Reader,

Means I Cannot PAY MY RENT Today.

And It is Already

Late

Way Too Late

Way Past DUE!

Now I Run The Very Real POSSIBILITY, Risk,

Of Being

EVICTED

AGAIN

Once Again

***

And BTW,

Anybody Wanna Walk Around in My Shoes For A Spell?

Thought Not, But Compelled to Ask

****

No Satisfy!

***

Went Searchin’ For A Rainbow…

Found None

Cred: MTB. Duh!

***

Searched EVERYWHERE!

All To No Avail

And Bank Don’t Open ‘Til Monday

Case of the Mondays

***Heavy Sigh***

***

Galley

Not Sure This.

No Matter.

Still in My Mouse House,

Though Not Sure Where.

Dyin’ Room

Boudoir

No Satisfaction!

Evicted

Once Again.

And THIS Time,

I’m All Out of Options

Dammnit!

Breaks Down Like This:

A. My Vehicle is Being Held Hostage At The Automotive Repair Shop, Awaiting Ransom

B. I Have Not The Funds For The Ransom at-this-Moment

C. My Life is a Train Wreck

D. My Land-Lady’s Sense O’ Humor and Patience Has Dun Run Out.

And, Yes:

My Life is as a Train Wreck

E. And Like A Hurricane

***

What If Earth (And Lance) got Kicked Out of the Solar System?

Street Cred For Vid: Kurzgesagt – In a Nutshell

NO! Do NOT Look At This: It is a Sad Commentary. Depressing And Somewhat Up-Lifting All At-The-Same-Time. Put That In Yer Pipe–Smoke It. Perhaps You’ll Catch A Buzz

“Desperately Dire Straits”

Oh Fukken Forget it!

I Am A Cock-Eyed Optimist

And Shall Remain Thusly Such

Forever!

For Fricken EVER

***

I Miss My NAVY–Have I ever Lamented this?

“A Hundred And One Pounds of Fun”

(Perfectly Describes My Third Wife)

“Cock-Eyed Optimist”

Don't Drown Lance.
At least one shall miss you.
And your bullshit

Money For Nothing

Vid Cred: mzq88

Conditions:

I tripped on a cloud and flew eight miles high—

My mind Has Left the building.

Vid Cred: Too many to sort out.

***

Fuck it! I suppose I could credit ‘Kenny Rogers and The First Edition’ Yeah.

At least I can do that. At the very least… I can do that.

Suppose I just did.

Yer Welcome Kenny.

Only thing you ever did that was worth a shit

***

This Post is all-over-some place.

Sorry. Not Sorry

Text-Book Example of My Mind – Malfunction Junction

Dire Straits…

Y’all.

This is painful.

Because I am a proud veteran and proud of my macho almost Navy SEAL times two service attempts

(At least I showed up—twice)

Y’all,

I come with hat in hand.

Anyone reads me with regularity knows I am an alcoholic.

Pretty much a ‘functioning one’

Yet,

Money management is something I have always sucked at.

But I always maintained a backstop insurance policy.

A woman.

A rich woman.

A women I spent a great deal of my money and time when I worked in Iraq and Afghanistan, flying her all over the world to meet for for R&R’s… Barcelona, Rome, Dubai, London, on and on…

You know her name.

It starts with an R and ends with a…

Never mind.

I have spilt lots of ink on her already.

Point is, she has decided to cut me off in my last hour of need.

Refused  to HBO!

Help a Brother Out!

I will run out of booze and life within half a day.

You know what happens when that happens?

DT Man.

Then I die

Came close to that LAST TIME

I do not wish to go through that agin.

DT Man scares me more than any man

And, trust me, Gentle Reader:

I do not scare easy.

But he scares me.

He is hell-bent to kill me.

If you value me.

Or my work

And enjoy it.

Help me out

Call me

901.212.3039

Email me

lancemarcom781@gmail.com

Help me.

Cheers,

–Lance

LMFAO!

I do hope Y’all Know This is all Tongue-Firmly-Planted-in-My-Cheek

But…

Spare me a dime??

Or A rhythm?

I Do LOVE Gene Kelly

AN AMERICAN IN PARIS (’51): “I Got Rhythm”

AN AMERICAN IN PARIS (’51):

“I Got Rhythm”

Who Could Ask For Anything More?

Truth Be told..

I Place more value on the rhymeI

Love Judy Collins

Uh… Anyone Seen My Brain Lately? My Words K Like Csince Cadince–Some-Day Cadence– Cadence Fell-Attempted Sleep (Failed) Or… To Sleep, Perchance to Dream. I Fore-Got WhyR\EM m I Wanted to Edit this…e… Fuck it!!

I’m all Alone, and Lonely

“I Have, of late...

Lost all My Mirth

I AM Not Truly Insane

I just Play The Fool on

The

Internet

No Regrets

Long Walk on A short pier

And in My mirth

day fell….

“The words of the prophets
Are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls
And whispered in the sounds of silence.”

Need sleep.

Turned off the TV.

Turned off the lights.

Turned off my computer monitor.

Turned off the HVAC

Turned off my mind.

SILENCE.

DARKNESS.

Could not sleep.

Too quiet.

Not near dark enough.

Trying to fall asleep listening to this.

Before it runs out.

Before I laid down for the second time, I asked MS Muse:

“Hey! You wanna lie down with me? Sleep with me? Hold me? Comfort me?”

She said, and I quote, “Go fuck yourself.”

“Guess that would be a ‘no’ then.”

But I cannot sleep:

“Hello Darkness MY Old Friend…”

My mind torments me.

Mercilessly.

****

AddeMy Engish Prof oncsaid to Me.

“Tiis Movi MaDE DUUSTIN HOFFMAN”d Value:

More added value:

Drunken Crying Jag: Almost there. I need to Be Put To Sleep–Permanant. And The Sadest Part…

I am My Biggest Fan!

Yet I Won’t Even Miss Me Once I Shuffle Off This Mortal Coil…

And I Won’t Even Give A Shit,

Because I’ll Be Deader ‘N’ Disco

Author’s Note: This Post is Drunk. Just Ignore it.

You Shall Be Better Served By Your Ignorance of It–

Trust Me

This post will make NO SENSE!

Which is entirely my POINT!

It is NOT SUPPOSED TO!

***

Oh Susanna!

Don’t Fly away from me!

I come from Armadillo

With a Banjo On My Knee!

Yeah

That’s Her

Susanna Hoff!

I am not stupid

(In some ways I Yam)

Yes

I know all the women in this band move me

But

Susanna..

Well

If you have

‘read’ me…

You know…

***

And Thank You

Sweet Baby James

DIS gonna be one ah dem clanging banging horses in mid-stream conciousness–messes-confesses–

You have been properly and prudently warned

“Whatever Lance,” abusive muse said. “Take five vodkas and call me in the mourning.” She said.

“BITCH!” I said back.

Before she left out my door, she sexy-slinked over to me, gave me a taste of her beautiful seductive, sometimes loving eyes. Then slapped the shit out of my face.

As I was picking me up off the floor, I said to her departing figure,

“I love you Muse!”

She glanced over her shoulder as she walked away from me just-one-more-time,

And said,

“I am through with you! Go fuck yourself! And never, never, ever EVER! Call me again!”

*********

Please try to imagine my despair.

I give zero fucks about food

I give zero fucks about money

I give zero fucks about fortune

I give zero fucks about fame

I give one or two fucks about booze

I may give three about Copenhagen snuff

And other un-named stuff

****

But

But

But

All other fucks I have to gladly, willingly give,

I give to my Muse.

My Pygmalion-Created lover.

If she leave me.

Well,

I am for reals

Properly

Fucked

and

DEAD

Inside

My

Mind.

And I will commit suicide.

***

Some Small Reference:

***

“Gonna hurt ya permanent”

Re-Run. Don’t Bother. I am just hemorrhaging Myself. Drunken Crying Jag: Almost there. I Needs to Be Put To Sleep–For Permanent.

C’est Moi:

“Oh Lord, Sometimes I Feel Like I’m Dyin'”

The Allman Brothers Band –

“Whipping Post”

The Allman Brothers Band – Whipping Post –

9/23/1970 – Fillmore East (Official)

*****

And, Sad Thing…

I am My Biggest Fan!

Yet I Won’t Even Miss Me

Once I shuffle off this mortal coil

****

“Frankly My Dear, I Don’t Give a Damn.”

***

Author’s Note: This Post is Drunk. Just Ignore it.

You Shall Be Better Served By Your Ignorance of It–

Trust Me

This post will make NO SENSE!

Which is entirely my POINT!

It is NOT SUPPOSED TO!

***

Oh Susanna!

Don’t Fly away from me!

I come from Armadillo

With a Banjo On My Knee!

Yeah

That’s Her

Susanna Hoff!

I am not stupid

(In some ways I Yam)

Yes

I know all the women in this band move me

But

Susanna..

Well

If you have

‘read’ me…

You know…

***

And Thank You

Sweet Baby James

DIS gonna be one ah dem clanging banging horses in mid-stream conciousness–messes-confesses–

You have been properly and prudently warned

“Whatever Lance,” abusive muse said. “Take five vodkas and call me in the mourning.” She said.

“BITCH!” I said back.

Before she left out my door, she sexy-slinked over to me, gave me a taste of her beautiful seductive, sometimes loving eyes. Then slapped the shit out of my face.

As I was picking me up off the floor, I said to her departing figure,

“I love you Muse!”

She glanced over her shoulder as she walked away from me just-one-more-time,

And said,

“I am through with you! Go fuck yourself! And never, never, ever EVER! Call me again!”

*********

Please try to imagine my despair.

I give zero fucks about food

I give zero fucks about money

I give zero fucks about fortune

I give zero fucks about fame

I give one or two fucks about booze

I may give three about Copenhagen snuff

And other un-named stuff

****

But

But

But

All other fucks I have to gladly, willingly give,

I give to my Muse.

My Pygmalion-Created lover.

If she leave me.

Well,

I am for reals

Properly

Fucked

and

DEAD

Inside

My

Head.

And I will commit suicide.

***

Some Small Reference:

***

“Gonna hurt ya permanent”