"Sunshine (Go Away Today) (Single/LP Version)" - This Land Is Your Land: "1. Sunshine (Go Away Today) (Single/LP Version) - This Land Is Your Land" <bgsound src="" loop="infinite">

Saturday, October 15, 2005



I once was told, "As the friction of time wears us down-- our passion is replaced with wisdom." I never wanted to believe this statement---it just doesn't seem very wise to lose passion. I remember when our friends would cram into our small first apartment on Saturday nights--we would pass the cannabis-pipe around and share lively conversations about music, politics, religion, and any world events that we felt mattered. These were passionate debates--not arguments that ended in anger. When the party would end, my Old Lady (sorry--that is what I called my wife before we married) and I would end up in the bedroom. We could not get enough of each other. I don't miss being young , but I do miss generating that HEAT! Our physical love now is more like a classically choreographed play, ending with a very well rehearsed intense pinnacle--it still deserves wonderful applause, but it is no longer the volatile rock-and-roll concert that finishes with wild and unpredicted pyrotechnics.

That is why I love to listen to Bruce Springstien sing BORN TO RUN. It gives me a small taste of the emotion I have almost lost. Though, I am not sure if I enjoy the song because I was filled with passion when the tune was on the charts, or because Bruce sang these lyrics with such passion when the song was recorded.
Will you walk with me out on the wire
Cause baby I'm just a scared and lonely rider
But I gotta know how it feels
I want to know if love is wild
girl I want to know if love is real
I did see Springstien do one of those television concerts on the VH-OLD-ROCKER SOMETHING-CHANNEL not so long ago. The wildness in his eyes has diminished a bit , and the passion no longer seemed to control his verse---but he did look and sound wise.

I am mixing alcohol and vicodin with music tonight—I hope this post doesn’t sound too sentimental and poetic!

Friday, October 14, 2005


What happened to My Other Site? I'm A Junkie!

It started normal enough---it was just a social thing. Then I did it in the mornings just to get my day started with a smile. I hid the fact I was doing it at lunch and sometimes alone. I never told anyone.I changed my settings so when anyone commented on my blog--I would get an email for a quick fix. At first the emails would come three or four times a day---eventually they were coming up to three or four times an hour, I couldn't get enough. I was hooked and I knew it. The auto-emails and an auto-email-response ( I accidentally left on) were my down-fall--- an anonymous blogger found me out and posted both my name and work number-- then a blogger emailed my manager and ratted me out---just so they could have a bigger share of the blog space. My Boss called me in for a Blogg intervention. He laid down the law--I was never to blog at work, about work, or about anyone from work-past or present-again. I had no choice but to agree. I was ashamed it had come to that!

At first I went cold turkey---but then the subject of my old blog disappeared completely out of all our lives forever. So--a few weeks ago I used that as an excuse to start again. I promised my wife I would do it just a couple of times a week--chipping is what we junkies call it. I could tell by the disappointment in her eyes that she didn't believe I could keep the blog monkey off my back. I hate the pain it causes her, but I'M TRYING DAMN IT--I'M TRYING!!

These days I find myself sweating at work wondering who has posted something funny or interesting. I sometimes need to know if anyone has read my blog or made any comments. I also worry if another fellow addict has tried to destroy my career again--Geez, how pathetic and low it is to be a blog junkie and do something like that. I still want to hurry home to blog and read more blogs. I know most of you say you are just casual users--but look what it leads to---before you know it you will be writing for newspapers--or even worse--- book deals. Listen to what Neil Young sings--"every junkie is like a setting sun!" HEAVY STUFF!

Does any one know about a blogger 12 step program?

There are details about the subject of my other blog that only a dozen of other hard-core blogger junkies know-----you are certainly free now to talk among yourselves---but this is the last I will speak of the illicit addiction. I will post again Sunday. I can't help myself!

Thursday, October 13, 2005


Should I Laugh--or Should I Sigh

A Thursday night many years ago a local singer/songwriter called me and asked me to show up at a club he had never appeared at before. My friend was afraid that the place would be empty on his opening night--and the owner might not hold him over for the weekend. I showed up a little after ten--the place was three-quarters empty.

I walked past the stage on my way to belly-up to the bar-and my friend gave me a quick nod. When the tune was completed he surprised me by pointing in my direction and saying, "Ladies and gentlemen-we have someone special in the audience tonight--Billy Joe Shaver." Some of the crowd applauded--and I smiled and waved. For those of you who don't know--Billy Joe Shaver's songs have been recorded by an impressive list of performers including Bob Dylan, Kris Kristofferson, Willie Nelson, Elvis Presley, The Highwaymen, and Patty Loveless. He is also Twenty-years older than I. I just chuckled to myself, and ordered a beer.

I was still waiting for that beer when I heard a female voice behind me say--"I have heard your music--and I love it." I turned to see if she was joking. The minute I looked at her I knew three things. 1. She was dumber than dirt. 2. She believed I was Billy Joe Shaver. 3. She was one of the most beautiful girls I had ever seen. I asked her to join me--without telling her who I really was.

All night I kept saying, "I don't like talking about myself--I want to hear about you." She ate that up--and she talked and talked. She was giddy and was having a great time. That is when it happened. I didn't plan it--but I said it.

"Darling--I loved tonight--and I wish it didn't have to end so soon--but I gotta catch an early plane for a gig in Hawaii. I gotta get outta here."

"Wow--Hawaii--I have always wanted to go."

"Well Hell--why don't you come along-- I'll have you back by Sunday. You can come stay with me tonight at my place---we'll only be gone three days--I'll just buy anything you need to wear--or whatever you need."

She bought it--she fucking bought it.

In the morning I feigned a phone call--and pretended the gig was cancelled. I drove her to her car. I took her phone number and never saw her again. I wish I could have called her--but I didn't know how to explain the sudden name and career change. It was like she heard what she wanted to hear. She wanted a magic carpet ride. When I sobered up I did feel bad she still believed in magic--and I felt worse that I took advantage of that fact. I do want to say in my defense-- that I have never before or since lied to anyone to obtain sex. When I drink it is a funny story to tell--but I seldom drink anymore.

Should I laugh or still feel guilty?

Wednesday, October 12, 2005


An assassination

In 1963 the 1/2 mile long field between my elementary school and Carswell AFB was still undeveloped. On November 22nd the entire second-grade class walked that distance to the edge of the road that paralleled a tall barbed-wired-fence. We were all told to wave good-bye to the President's plane as it taxied down the runway to take off for a very short trip from Ft. Worth to Dallas. I have always wondered if he noticed all the school children out of his small window.

That afternoon Mr. Lewis (our principle) announced over the P.A. system that President Kennedy had been shot---and school would be dismissed early. I walked home and found my Mother in tears watching the television. We could barely hear the news, because Carswell was designated as a SAC Base------ the B-52's had been scrambled--the noise of those hugh jet engines roared all day and all night. It frayed our nerves. Two days after the assassination I witnessed Jack Ruby murder Lee Harvey Oswald on live television. I was only seven--but I certainly knew it was all real. My Mother was again in tears.

The entire Country became overcast with a gray gloom. My father and the men who worked at the local defense plant, all who wore short hair, white-shirts, and black-ties, unconsciously passed their uneasiness on to their wives and families. Not even the Holidays lit up the dark winter sky's enough to detour our minds from the fact that the flags were all still lowered.

Then in February of 1964 something happened on a Sunday night. Four young men from Liverpool England appeared on the Ed Sullivan show. My normally serious Father and his best friend (both in their mid-thirties at the time) combed their inch long hair onto their foreheads ---and they danced around foolishly to the music of the Beatles. Our families smiled and knew it was OK to laugh. The World had color again.

Sunday, October 09, 2005


It Still Isn't Fair!

Randy Newman (of 'Short People Fame') wrote the song 'Mama Told Me Not To Come' for Three Dog Night. Every time I hear that tune I think he must have been invited to the party my brothers and I threw in 1973--- when my parents vacationed in California. It was to be the mother of all parties---all were invited (except our girlfriends), and no one declined. I had made it a point to invite two friends Barbara and Sandy. I knew both of these girls well (in the biblical sense), many in our class had. It was my teen-aged intentions to know them both at the same time that evening. I may have been over anxious--I started dogging them both as soon as they hit the door. They laughed---but they never said NO!

"SHIT!" is what I said when Jessie arrived with his older brother Gilbert. The two junior girls were shooting smiles at the handsome senior with lust in their eyes. At the age of thirteen Gilbert had promised his insane Mother that he would remain a virgin-- AND that he would also become a Catholic Priest. The idiot was then eighteen-- and he still intended to keep both of those promises. I relayed that little tale to Barbara and Sandy to generate a laugh--AND THEY GRAVITATED TOWARDS GILBERT LIKE HE WAS A PRIZE TO BE WON!

I sat down with the trio and decided if Gilbert consumed some alcohol---the non-drinker would pass out early--thus leaving me to pursue my nefarious plans. I got a couple of slushy bottles of wine out of the freezer and tried to persuade the Holy Boy to take a swig. I think I convinced him that Strawberry Hill could be considered the Blood of Christ---and the bottles were soon being passed around amongest us. Instead of passing out---Gilbert lost his shyness and became very clever and funny. In the meantime the party started to roar.

I noticed two Beavis and Butt-Head type kids blowing massive amounts of pot smoke up the nostrils of my sisters little kitten---I was forced to go to its rescue. The two fools started playing keep away with the feline--yelling, "Throw me the pussy--Throw me the Pussy!!" The little cat was finally dropped--and it landed on its back--then awkwardly it ran away.

It was at that time someone yelled that all the wine bottles in the freezer were starting to explode. I had put them there earlier that day to chill quickly. I thought alcohol wouldn't freeze. That obviously doesn't apply to wine. As my brothers and I scrambled to clean up that mess, an assortment of other belongings were starting to be trashed, spilled, or destroyed. I had turned into frantic maid--instead of being the seventeen year-old stud I had envisioned. The place was out of control.

By the time the party regained a bit of sanity---I started looking for the girls. They had left--I thought. A short time latter I saw the two of them coming out of my parents bedroom---along with Gilbert. He had a sheepish grin on his face--and the girls ,BOTH, looked frumped! They laughed and claimed nothing happened--but I know better! What kind of girls would have sex with a man who is promised to God for God's Sake? DAMN! The party was infamous--but I was screwed without ever getting kissed.

You know those teenage movies where the house gets repaired just seconds before their parents arrive? That is all bull-shit. I spent that summer in Purgatory paying for my sins.

Now for the point of this post. I lost track of Gilbert for many years---then a few years back I saw him on a local Hispanic television program trying to raise money for a daycare center in an impoverished area of Dallas. He was a Priest! Now that pisses me off! There is a priest in Dallas Texas who stole my sexual fantasy --and to this day I have yet to get my three-some. All the women I have ever dated were toooo damn selfish to help me obtain this goal. The only way this thing will ever be fulfilled, is if I pay for my wife to have those little wrinkles around her eyes to be removed---and then I could slip the surgeon a couple of grand to perform a secret frontal-lobotomy! However, I will still need another volunteer-----but it is a plan.

Oh--by the way--that cat never did land on its feet again when dropped!

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