Martha Gellhorn: I Find Her Extraordinarily Sexy Smart.

“The Best Wife” Any Intelligent Man Could Dream of Or Desire, Or Even Wish For. And Then Fuk It All Up–I Can Certainly Relate.

And Y’all Know I Am A Sucker For A Good-Lookin’ Broad With Brains…

Martha was the best of ALL The Rest

Martha on Ernest:

“He was about as useful as a stuffed squirrel.”

Cred for Vid: Biographics

Martha and Hem:

She was here,” I want to shout. “And she was extraordinary.”

–Hem

https://www.townandcountrymag.com/society/tradition/a22109842/martha-gellhorn-career-ernest-hemingway/

Fu*k Me! My Mind is Blown! “He Drinks at Home Now Most Nights With the TV on and all the house lights Left Up Bright”

“I’m gonna blow this damn candle out.

I don’t want nobody comin’ over to my table;

I got nothin’ to talk to anybody about.”

***

Oh Screw It! I’m an Alcoholic.

At Least I know what I am

and who I am.

And who I am Not

But I Yam What I Yam:

I’m Popeye The Drunken Sailor-Man.

Who Among You,

Could’ve Seen That One Coming?

Hahaha!

And all the house lights left up bright.

Happy  New Year.

“I’m gonna blow this damn candle out.”

“Holidays are hard on some guys.”

I stole that line from a favorite movie of mine, loosely based on a wonderful play by some guy. Oh yeah, David Mamet “Sexual Perversity in Chicago”

Which I first saw performed live by a group of travelling U.S. actors and actresses when I was in Sinai, SFM (and after the performance I had all of the cast and crew in my hooch and we all got hopelessly stoned on hash and drunk on scotch) 

In the Sinai, and then saw it, many years later, the fucking movie… wait for it… in Chicago, drunk but not stoned.

The Navy had random piss tests back then—for drugs–they gave not zero fucks about your alcohol blood level. That is just my Navy. How it was…  maybe still is.

Who knows? Who even cares these days?

When I saw the movie in Shy – Town, It had been bastardized into… “About Last Night.”

The Movie Gave The Play a

Fucking Happy Ending!

They Really Ruined it With That!

Fukkin’ Hollywood!

HOLLYWOOD! Up-Dated!! Re-Visit This One Y’all. It is fucking Awesome! The Vids! The Vids! The Vids! Ignore My Prose! Watch the Videos!

“Travesty” as a word…

“Cynical and drunk?”

“May-hap: C’est moi?”

“Huh?”

“What did he say?”

*******

Honestly, when it comes down to it, we all die alone… boring someone in some dark café.

“Jesus Christ! Lance! Some happy thoughts for the New Year?”

“Naw, been there…”

“You’re either too stupid to die, or too stupid to live.”

“Yes. Both.”

I like to think that I only write for me.

That is some vain fantasy. Or just a pleasant fiction.

I write to get bed, er… read.

I do.

I really do.

I am a “writer”

Or, at least, I think of me in that way.

And I love commas.

And I edit as I go.

Someone once said of “Lord Ernest” (Hemingway),

Someone said he said, “Write Drunk. Edit Sober.”

Now, personally, I think that apocryphal, but what do I know?

Yet, I am going with it.

(at least the write drunk part)

Now, back to Joni:

“Love can be so sweet.”

“Go look at your eyes.”

“Drink up now. It’s gettin’ on time to close.”

Some footnote:

Oh, and by the way, The Last time I saw Richard was Great Lakes, Recruit Training Command, ’86,  and he told me… something about staying alive while with the Navy SEALs in SO CAL, just before he went to Florida and committed suicide,  because He could not handle the Pressure that was (then) the U.S. Navy Nuclear Submarine Program. Thank God I was in Coronado with the SEALs.

And So Safe

So safe.

I miss Richard.

He was braver than me.

And nobody ever committed suicide while at BUD/s (Navy SEAL) training: we were just all too busy, you see, just ‘busily’ trying to stay the fuck alive.

“Richard got married to a figure-skater–post-humorlessly.”

Somehow, I live.

His name was “Richard” and he was a real person.

Yeah, I left  out the tag line (on purpose):

“when you gonna get back on your feet?”

**********

If you happenstance to swerve into this blog, and catch yourself saying,

“Gee! This guy is cool.”

Don’t.

(Just don’t.)

Because I ain’t.

I’m an asshole.

Bona-Fide

Asshole.

And I have references

But if’n you do, Do not then… follow the comments.

Just don’t fuckin’ do it. 

Save some:  them, them the good memories.

And walk on by.

(You just knew I had to.)

Dionne Warwick:

Wonderful,

Beautiful

Classy Lady

Lance is Repeating Hem-Self–First Sign of Old Age—Hem, Hem Hahaha! Y’all And, NO! I ain’t Hem! (I do aspire, however, with heady Aspirations) PAPA!

“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

***

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

****

I ADORE MADONNA!

(And I Ain’t Even Gay!)

Hem-Haw! Y’all!

“Woolworth Rhinestone Diamond Earrings

And a Sideways Glance”

Greatest lyric in the History of lyrics

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

–Hem

***

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

Watch this Below!

Dammit! Just Fuckin’ Do it!

Was Ernest Hemingway a Misogynist? 

Naw!

He Wern’t

Fuckin’ Sneeze Louise

I am an Idiot/Accident

Goin’ Somewhere to Happen

But I’ve Got Three More Bottles of Whine

So Screw You!

I Love Emmy-Lou

****

This is the BEST Vid in the History of Vid

Did I Re-Post This Already? Guess What? I Don’t Give A Fuk! Here it is Again–Slightly Up-Dated Please Watch The Vids. They ‘Is’ Really Good! — “Hem”

Greatest Drunks of All Time:

Ernest Hemingway

“Honey, Drinking is War”

Cred for Vid: Jesse Egan

***********

“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

***

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

Writer Edna O’Brien on Hemingway’s View of Women: PBS:

****

This Show is Over

Say “Goodbye.”

“All the World Is A Stage”

Take A Bow

Hem–My Hero–(Everyone Needs A Hero) Damn Waste–That He Blew His Head Off With A Shotgun

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

***

“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

****