Life Is A Mystical Cavalcade Of Moments Frozen In Time In Our Mind
Just Innocence Like My Son
Just a Man That Labors
I sit at my chair and write and read and read some more and pray and meditate. I like my chair because it is my chair. My wife and child stop in from time to time and my phone and email and something called "texts" need to be answered. I hear tell there is messenger and Facebook and Twitter that I should get in touch with. Heck my FB and email accounts are some of the oldest known.
I went into this communist country back in about '99. They took my computer and all the CD's we had. There was no bringing propaganda into their jurisdiction. I was a G.I.S. Later I will tell you what that is but I bet 2 billion bucks you don't get it.
My wives get pissed off that I do not spend enough time writing for a living. But I spend more time with my children than appropriate. My clients want emotional papers written on behalf of victims and criminals. Boring as heck. If I do not make a grown man cry, I failed. Call that a judge.
But I write hear/here for a living. Sounds fully crazy. But "living" to me ain't your natural. I live to write and write to live. Alright I have to tend to my roses. That is not for a living but when you walk out my front door the scent from all six of them named for my wife and children will overwhelm you.
Today I Got This
Hi Ericdierker,
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I Just Say Yes Mam and Yes Man
Just Saying
I May Be A Writer For Money, A Private Dancer
Please refuse to be a man who eats direction. Funny but the computer said something about my years here. The have not mentioned that there are more than 220 Sermons out there.
Somehow I think less about folks that don't blow the reed. I am a slob. Mine is Clarinet. I do a little bongo for my main band man. And any man can pound some keys. So we do that. But if you cannot do some blues baritone I suggest you go home before dawn. That is just about passion I reckon. My main instrument is the keyboard -- the writing kind.
Please Play This To The End, Tim Cappello This Man Blows a Tough Reed
Bring It Home Sisters
So be it this is short. But I know a time down in New Orleans. My good friend killed himself there. That is after we jumped out of airplanes in Tucson AZ and shot machine guns in Riyadh. But I cannot lie, we dropped a lot of pane. My man was a river runner guide on the Amazon and I one on the Colorado. Not just our lives but others were at stake. People on the river are happy to give.