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!

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

Please Try this One. It’s Self-Deprecating Fuckin’ Fun!

“Input/Output: Electricity!”

(With My Heart-Felt Apologies to Joni)

Vid Cred For video way below: Wp is StupiD!

The below is a comment I made over at Aussa’s Blog (a blog I can never say enough good things about), in response to one of her hilarious posts: Ridiculous On The Job Injuries

 http://aussalorens.com/2014/07/10/ridiculous-on-the-job-injuries/

Her prompt:  What’s the most ridiculous way you’ve injured yourself?

***

Back in the Middle Ages (1980’s) when I owned my tropical fish store in Nacogdoches (Yes, That ‘Oldest Town in Texas’),

I was trying to clean the front glass of one of my retail tanks (ten gallon) which housed an electric catfish (like an electric eel, but with higher amps and voltage). I was standing on a stool as ‘Benny Franklin’s’ tank was on the third tier—you just know I had to name him—since I’d had him ‘in-stock’ for months

(All the East Texans were interested in were guppies, goldfish, and ‘crud-eaters’).

Anyhow, as I was keeping a watchful eye on Benny, lest I inadvertently swerve my paw/forearm into him, a customer walked up to me, inquiring (rather vociferously) about where were the crud eaters (Yes, I have posted about crud-eaters).

I took my eye off the prize (my arm) just for-a-second.

Yep: Bam! Brushed Benny and received a shock which knocked me off the stool and flat on my ass.

Input: Output Electricity

Malapterurus electricus- shock yer ass-officus

Embarrassed? What do you think? I was supposedly a ‘professional aquarist.’

Apparently not-on-that-day. The potential crud-eater customer just looked down at me and announced dryly that she would try ‘Ben Franklin’s’ (coincidence? or irony?)

or better still Wal*Mart up the road.

Guess I did not answer her query quick enough as I was taking my own sweet time in my sincere effort to start breathing again.

True Story: you can take my word for it.

😉

Cheers to you Aussa,

Always my pleasure to visit y’all, and glean inspiration for future posts (sincerely).

–Lance

Video Credit: JoniJourney

Uh??? Why cannot I credit this? Fuck You WordPress!

Ironic!

Her-a-Tic!

Finally did it!

Managed to Up-Load it!

Credit:


Alanis Morissette

I adore you!

(But then again, I adore all women!)

Alanis Morissette

Yeah, I am Lazy. I Keep Re-Postin’ Old Shit. Git Over It! “California on my Mind MIND? MiNd? No, I Don’t Mind! I No Longer Have The TIME! (NOR The Damn Dime Neither)”

So Let’s Just Call The Whole Thing Off!

You’ll Have to Scroll Down For Ginger;

I Got Distracted.

Yes; It Happens From time-To-Time

I No Longer Have One Dime.

Nor a Brain

Yet, Poverty & Ignorance is Bliss–

I am Blessed to Have Both

“Hey Brother, can you spare a dime?

I seem to have misplaced mine”

But Texas Always in my Heart?

Huh?

And OnCE A’GIN” fUK u word-de-Pressed! i CANnOT DeDIite This! Why Not? Why The Fuk NOT? Fuk U Word-Disstressed!

I have spilled’d way too

Much Virtual Ink on California Yeah!

I spent Above My ‘Income’

No Breakin’ News Nor Revelation

To Be Discovered There!

Yeah! I once spent a Night in The Hotel Del…Cost me a Month’s Navy Pay… Well worth it, even tho I DID NOT Get Laid… Story of my Life! Still Worth it.

“Welcome to Hotel Hell”

Back When, Way Back When!

When I was in SEAL Train’in’

So What????

The Hotel Del Did NOT

Impress Me!

Mother-fu*k California!

Jes Kidd’n

I LoVe Her!

Almost HALF as Much as I Love TEXAS!

But Not Quite.

Aerosmith – Crazy 

GTT

More Texas

Less California

Loved it. Hated it. Few decades ago I could truthfully say, “Hey! I’ve spent half my life in California.” (See This Or This)

Now I can say, “Hey! I’ve spent most of my life in Dangerous Desolate Places.” (Middle East &  East Texas) That worm did turn some. (Go Here or There)

I really don’t care at this point

****

As a Native Texan, I am supposed to always hate California and yes, Yes to all you Texans out there: I know this. I get it. Put the rope down.

Yet I more love than hate California.

In California I learned to appreciate music, art, science, literature, hippies, beaches and blondes. My first kiss was not in California, but I didn’t miss that milestone by much–In California.

In Texas I learned to appreciate drankin’ whiskey and beer , smokin’ dope, playin’ football, chasin’ cheerleaders, and Raisin’ Hell.

Arriving home to Texas late 1968 folks made fun of my ‘California Accent’ if there even is such a thing. (There were no Valley Girls in the Sixties as far as I know). My ‘accent’ was ‘just the way normal people talked’ as far as I was concerned. Texans sounded funny to me (Blasphemy!)

My Attitude Adjustment didn’t take long to take.

In California I was a Little League Baseball Star. In Texas no one gave two shits about baseball. I had to learn football. Not that that was necessarily a bad thing, but I had all those baseball skills which were not worth a cup of spit in Texas.

I love Texas and don’t get me wrong. But once in a while, when I see a photo or a news bit showing San Francisco, or San Diego, or a beach, or a blonde… I hear this guy singing:

Sometimes I even hear this blonde singing:

And I tear up. (Just a little bit) but then I throw on some Bob Wills and Remember Who I am.

Bob Wills

And thus remembering, I go out and buy a case of Lone Star Long Necks and listen to this guy:

And I Thank The Spirit of Sam Houston I Am A Texan.

Really Strange Situation I Find Myself In… I Wanted to Re-Publish a Bob Marley Post, But I cannot find It. Alas My Ass! This Will Have to Suffice.

A Rather Strange Strange BoY

C’est Moi!

“Grow Up! I Cried”

“Give me one good reason why”

Cred: Joni

Who The Hell Else Were You Expecting?

Volume is fuked; Crank it up!

Nation War Against Nation!

Check Out The Real Situation

Uncle Bob!

Strange

“Women Seem Wicked When You’re Un-Wanted.”

“I’m gonna blow this damn candle out. I don’t want nobody coming over to my table. I got nothing to talk to anybody about.” –Joni

I am so sick of people.

(Present company excluded)

I got nothing left to say

Screw it!

Maybe tomorrow

Stand by

But don’t hold your bated breath

****

Beautiful Joni

The Last Time I Saw Richard

“The last time I saw Richard was Detroit in 68
And he told me, “All romantics meet the same fate Some day, cynical and drunk and boring
Someone in some dark cafe”

******

My Head Hurts, My Feet Stink and I don’t Love Jesus – Jimmy Buffett

“If I don’t die by Thursday I’ll be roarin’ Friday night”

Story of My Life

That Old Man and The Sea

He’s Me!

P.S. Richard Shot hiss-self in the Head After He Went to FLA!

Broke My Fucken Heart!