This One From My Heart

Back in the day, when I was young, I told myself that I would go places, experience shit, and write about it. Easy. Simple. Good plan, eh?

Nope. Why not?

Because I always got caught up in the ‘shit’ and never found the time to actually ‘write’ about it. And then, there is that ‘laziness thing’ too. Anyhow, if any younger than me writers are out there (That would be about ninety percent of y’all), here is some advice: Just write it now. Don’t go searching for some rainbow, or some muse. You have it in you now. Write it. Do not make the same mistakes I have made. Write it now, and sort the details later. Read a book if need be.

I woke up in Iraq one day, looked about and realized I had been spending too much time ‘gathering fodder’. Do not make that same mistake. It really ain’t worth a life. Go out and play golf. Go to a BBQ. Read. It is almost as good as being there. (And no one, I mean, no one will know either way.)

Cheers,

Lance

And I like to talk about stuff.

Do you?

Just Who Do You Think You Are?

This below was inspired by a post from a blogger I much admire: Abby of Abby Has Issues fame: writer, published author, blogger, self-described sarcastic (and inspiring–my words) wench.

Thank you Abby

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“Who am I?”

This should be a very provocative question for all. Some ancient guy once said, “The unexamined life is not worth living.”

I am rapidly approaching my sixth decade on this earth and have been (painfully) taking stock of all that I could call “My Life.” What good have I accomplished? What are the bad things I have done? How many ‘friends’ do I have? How many bridges have I nuked? (I generally do not ‘burn’ bridges; I have a tendency to shock and awe ‘em—obliterate ‘em) I have put my boots on the ground on every continent except South America. What has this taught me? A lot. Did I always use this knowledge gleaned? Most definitely not.

“Who am I?”

More and more I have come to the stark realization that I must sum me up with one word:

‘Asshole’

I am an asshole. I don’t want to be an asshole, pompous ass, arrogant ass, the smartest ass in the room, (which I obviously am… maybe once in ten or twenty tries 😉 ) I do not want to be any kind of ass, but that is my reality. I have made some friendships during my life which should have lasted forever, but didn’t: Mostly from my neglect. I have had some wonderfully loving relations with women, and actually married four of them. Each one of those relationships should have been a lasting euphoria, but I did not, could not, allow that. Wanderlust always took me away, eventually needing to ‘get outta town’, but with no malice, just gotta go…  ‘This is the part where the cowboy rides away’–find some elusive spot half-way across the globe where I could ‘find’ ME, unencumbered by people who ‘love’ me and think they can help me.

Not sure if I have found me yet. And this is disconcerting, ‘cause I do fear the time for that is growing short. Writing helps, but I continue to struggle with:

“Who am I?”

I still don’t know.

As Abby broached the subject:

“How would you answer the question?”

Run with it, and drop in to read Abby: (and tell her I sent ya–I could use the publicity)

Cheers Y’all and Happy Monday.