I was walking on a broken ankle and it was Mardi Gras morning and I was drunk which helped the ankle despite drunkenness being the cause of the injury and I had lost my friends during Zulu at Lee Circle and now I was wandering the uptown streets of New Orleans no money north of Tchoupitoulas trying to avoid the crowds when I found my way to the Napoleon bar. Not that that was what it was called—it was on the corner of Magazine I think—we used go there a lot celebrated part of my 21st birthday there when you were just being born hell it might not even be there anymore or it may have a different name seems like a long time ago now looking at you why when your mom came to visit me you were just a baby and now you’re a young man and I want to say what I know you don`t know because it takes time to know it but I was your age once and now I just tell stories about it how I remember it because pretty soon that’s all you have it`s the only instruction you can give and you go back and visit these memories sometimes years later after all the things that have happened and some memories you wanna teach a thing or two and other memories they teach you but all of them together they make you who are and sometimes it just takes time to make your peace with that to let them ripen so that you taste them at their peak like those surreal memories I have of wandering the streets of New Orleans on Mardi Gras morning and one thing you should know is walking ain`t easy there let alone walking on a broken ankle because you see the sidewalks are crooked…

the mosquitoes aren`t out yet. It was August then and they were sitting out on the back deck and he’s sitting almost the same way his grandfather did slouched leaned back in the patio chair his hands folded behind his head listening

ya it actually delayed my commissioning. One thing you can’t do on a broken ankle is pass a physical fitness test so no your uncle didn`t graduate with his class. I did my pinning on ceremony later here not in New Orleans—your grandfather pinned my gold bars… the only thing I can say is when you go there as soon as you get on the bus—don’t look nobody in the eye. Never eyeball the drill instructor. Just pick a point out in space and stare at that…

is it true?
the thing about saltpeter…

hell I don’t know that might just be a military myth a legend but from what I can remember I didn’t have much time to play with it except maybe in the head sittin’ on the shitter after lights out but that was close to the end when I was used to it and things loosen up a little bit after the first week or so you’re given a little bit more leeway

his girlfriend isn’t with him she’ll see him off later right now it’s just the family they were planning a bonfire and his friends were bringing the alcohol his flight didn’t leave until tomorrow afternoon and since they were alone for a minute sitting out on the back deck the man who was about to turn forty thought he’d give some advice to the man just turned eighteen besides he figured someone should tell him if he hadn’t already figured it out for himself and some things you say because well as far as you know nobody else has said it and you’d like for it to be said you’d even like to find it in a book somewhere so when you’re searching when you seeking for that answer and it’s one of those things you don’t want anybody to know you’re looking for the answer you can find it and go Oh… and maybe even fool your friends into thinking you know what you’re talking about even though you haven’t experienced it yourself and you probably can fool them or at least surrender your reality to them in lies with a whole bunch of complications that aren’t necessary if you know how to use the right nuances and really nobody cares anyway it’s like going to the zoo and staring at the animals in the cage that’s how we look at other people and their problems their hang-ups the things that make them happy we always look at them like we’re looking from the outside of the cage and they think they’re looking in on us and really it’s all kind of funny how we empathize and sympathize how we try to be easy on the man that’s down and share in another’s joy but we really don’t know we can only imagine ourselves in that position and it helps if we’ve been through it ourselves but we’re always bound to surprise ourselves and be surprised by others and if you think everything’s dull and predictable it’s really because you’re probably too chickenshit to try anything new or really get to know yourself so the man about to turn forty the uncle says:

don’t believe what you see on TV the movies or whatever comes out of a woman’s mouth you’ll know if she came or not because unless she pissed on you (which is common after pregnancy) you feel her pussy gush when she comes (it helps to look in her eyes) and it gets good and sloppy after that so don’t believe that men don’t like to cuddle after either because otherwise it just feels dirty you wipe off and pull up your pants and I’ll tell ya at my age it feels about the same as jerking off if that’s all it is it ain’t like when you’re thirteen wondering about performance looking at all the pretty girls you pass in the school hallway and you just want to get down on your knees and beg them to Please Just Touch It and sure jerking off might be a form of self-love but what isn’t at my age it’s just another bodily function like taking a shit and after you’ve felt that pussy gush after you’ve seen that look in a woman’s eye (and heard her complain how you made her legs so sore she can’t walk right after) you ain’t too concerned about performance anymore and if it’s just gonna be a wipe yourself off and pull up your pants (maybe because the kids only give you a few minutes to yourselves) sometimes I’d rather just jerk off a man likes to cuddle too

and there’s that zen saying about how I carried water and chopped wood and then I was enlightened and I carried water and chopped wood and the uncle could see in his nephew’s eyes that perhaps this conversation was probably best in the play around of his peers better his buddies tell him but then if you don’t know what to ask how are you to arrive at the answer and he thought of his own youth his time in New Orleans and he wanted to break it down statistically because he had excelled in math during his school years and he thought: Well, just take a look at that most of my buddies at Tulane knew their IQ they told me in passing those nuances we talked about I myself tested in the 130s 140s I think as a kid at least that’s what my sister told me and that’s amazing because I was so damn shy I’m sure I said I don’t know even if I did know the answer just like my youngest daughter does now in kindergarten and I was in all the gifted classes and when I took those IQ tests they have online later as an adult I maxed out at 160 because that was as high the test would go and I took calculus in high school and scored a 34 on my ACT (36 is a perfect score and I remember I had a bad head cold the day I took it blowing my nose during the timed test but I didn’t retake it) so if you look at it statistics-wise I’m in the 99th percentile (at least according to the peer evaluations they send with the results of the test) and if you do the simple math of that one out every hundred people I meet is in the same bracket of course I guess it depends on where you are like at Tulane we were sort of congregated into the honors dorm that’s where I met my friends in college and if you go on with the statistics from there I majored in physics and mathematical economics not a big pool of people with those majors but still not unique and then I went on to write several novels and though a lot of people can say they’ve written a book not many can say they’ve written several books especially by the age of 39 so then you begin to wonder how unique are you are you really that special but of course for a man about to turn forty things don’t bother you as much anymore they don’t matter and whatever unique bracket you happen to find yourself in most things are about common situations with common people dealing with it with common sense and as Twain and Bukowski and I’m sure many others have said it’s usually the loudest and most confident that might be failing in intelligence and stupidity always brings you down to its level because you can’t expect people to understand something they can’t understand so they’re going to understand it in their terms and that’s where it always gets messy and I remember Ben my old roommate from college telling me we would have a limited peer group and that’s one of things I’m proud of now—how I kept myself pure though drunk most of the time for four years in New Orleans… of course it was pride that was the problem in the first place

and if you do the math it’s brutal. For say you are in that 99th percentile let’s even say you’re near that infinite line on the bell curve IQ 160 or greater (and let’s not get into other intelligence how success relates to emotional maturity environment drive and persistence) that translates to oh let’s say the 99.997th percentile—why in this big world of ours that means about a quarter of a million people are just like you… And a label is a label anyway they pigeonhole you they categorize and everything has its place its purpose and if you want to be alone go ahead say to yourself: I am different unique special the rules don’t apply… and see where that gets you (the cost if you do get away with it). Or play humble and pretend that you’re no different than anybody else and you’re still living a dream that nobody else sees. So it’s nothing to take pride about—it just isolates you—and whether you brag or practice humility the bell curve the statistics dominate the preponderance of the evidence and the riches the true treasure is not to be found there

so the uncle says:

if you look at it I’ve always belonged to the government. I was born on an Air Force base outside of D.C. traveled all over the states and overseas living on Air Force bases received an AFROTC scholarship in physics to attend Tulane served ten months and then was medically discharged with severance pay and now I work for the VA while receiving VA disability—funny how I like to look at it now how Uncle Sam buys a copy of my five major works so far to date every day on Amazon Kindle and it’s like I receive the royalties from that—at least I like to look at it that way like I receive my disability check for something and call me crazy if you say I have my hand out but at least I work for’em too and it’s funny how I take none of it seriously though I should just like how I arrived at Tulane and signed my oath to the military for a full scholarship that provided a free ride plus room and board and a stipend of $150 a month which I used for beer money how I almost didn’t make it applying to Tulane after the deadline when I thought my ROTC scholarship was in jeopardy because of a DUI (don’t try to drive onto a military installation drunk) but it was because of my scholarship that the charges were dropped and the records expunged and I was gonna go to Duke but when the ROTC branch at Tulane called and said use the scholarship in New Orleans I said: Okay… and it was the physical fitness test and mile and half run that scared me (I had to pass them before the semester started to activate my scholarship) I was afraid I couldn’t run a mile and a half in under eleven minutes had to pass that damn thing every semester to keep my scholarship. And four years later a broken ankle from a drunken Mardi Gras episode would delay my commissioning–I couldn’t run on it, hell I could barely walk…

so what did you do?
your MOS… what did you do as an officer?

oh that well that was on a guarded installation inside a keyed access vault behind firewalls working on computers that do what computers do inside vaults I heard some of my college buddies were interviewed by people with badges that whole background check for security clearances and that’s what’s funny looking back on it now simply put I had a chip on my shoulder and really I made it untenable for them my college buddies and they behaved as befits their class and I’ve seen it now from the other angle how untenable it gets when you’re dealing with someone with a chip on their shoulder and it makes me think of Cape Fear not the original black and white but the one with Robert De Niro because he’s pretty damn creepy in that movie and though I never related to the violence in the character that’s just another door in the hall I did relate I did identify with being a step away from white trash coming from a family of crackers and yes hearing people speak in tongues around me so arriving at Tulane such as I did and visiting the homes of my college friends like Ben’s home in West Palm Beach (and yes I’m using real names here fuck the pretense I’m too old to be rearranging names and faces and even my own name your name—Akley—well that was just made up by my grandfather maybe he knew somebody with that name because from what I’ve heard he was a carnie jailed often and he changed his name after a run-in with the law apparently he beat a man to death in a fight and he died drunk when my father your poppa was seven an evil-looking sonofabitch I’ve seen pictures of him he looked evil so I might as well use real names here what’s true and factual will become fiction soon anyway…) I learned what I came from was far different than my friends at school I mean hell Tulane ain’t no backwater university it costs a good sixty thousand dollars a year to go there now and here I was on a scholarship humping it out every week at 6am for PT in Audubon Park while my buddies slept off their hangovers marching in the quad in uniform while students passing by made fun of us and yeah I saw their homes how Ben had a maid and a boat docked in the backyard along the inter-coastal waterways which led out to sea how Sam had a nice house in Atlanta and a lake house to share for getaways on spring break Brendan lived in New York and even Chuck my Cajun roommate from Sunset owned crawfish ponds on a big spread and his dad was the town doctor so yeah I guess you could say I had a chip on my shoulder and by senior year it got untenable because what I was really doing was channeling De Niro (I am like God and God like me. I am as large as God. He is as small as I. He cannot be above, nor I beneath him be. –Silesius, 17th century…) and really I was just trying not to be afraid anymore it gave me a sense of power that I thought I lacked and that’s all that a chip on your shoulder is… anyway now I’m grateful for what I’ve come from and now I guess you can say I identify with Johnny Cash how he identified with the poor and downtrodden and that makes me think of Jake… the ex-wife got the news last weekend how he died in his sleep at first his father Kevin wouldn’t say but then the stories about the track marks on his arms came out and everybody knew it was a morphine overdose. I first met Jake when he was about eleven or twelve out at Freedom Farm camping with my ex-wife when she was still married to her first husband. Saying Jake came from a fucked family is an understatement. His mother lives in California and gave him up for her meth habit and I remember he told me he used to always think his mother was coming to get him but she never did and so Kevin took care of him and got him hooked to pills he and Rosie (my ex-wife’s grandma) that’s all they do is pills so that’s how Jake bounced around he either went to stay with his mother who was shooting up meth or he stayed with his father and grandma who were doing pills and I saw him from time to time I saw him grow up over the years always skinny just a dumb naïve kid with a big heart not afraid to work (his father used to take his money to pay his child support for his other kids) and I guess this last time it just got worse for Jake because when he came back from his mother’s the family found out she got him hooked on shooting up morphine and he came back here to try to get off it they even say now he went to church just the Sunday before and got saved the pastor after hearing of the death even called to tell the family that and of course Kevin didn’t have any money to bury him so the last I heard they cremated him were going to spread his ashes in the Kaskaskia—23 years old… that’s how old I was the first time I committed suicide and I think of Rosie now who’s always led a wild life in fact I’ve written about her before how she’s an old woman now damn near in her eighties and she has to live with the memory of that because she took drugs with Jake and like it or not that makes the bond the connection deeper and to find him in bed like that the next morning dead those are the kind of memories my friends from college will never have with their nice houses and the protection of wealth and privilege… No Jakes’s story comes from that other side of life (the other side of the railroad tracks) and maybe I still do have a chip on my shoulder because Jake his life his is the story to be told because it’s beautiful and tragic and if I have to be the voice crying in the wilderness to do that then dammit I’ll be that voice because yes I was an officer but that doesn’t mean I have to be a gentleman…

the nephew is silent with a lost look in his eye. They hear the sound of a car pulling up. More guests arriving some of his buddies now and time is getting short and the uncle has more he remembers more he wants to say but instead he beats around the bush:

when you get to where you’re going my advice always take the back roads. And I mean not just metaphorically speaking I mean literally. The view is more pleasant less waiting on others (which puts you in a better mood than when you’re cussing out the guy in front of you for holding up traffic trying to turn left) and when you think about it and you have to think about it the direct route the shortest route isn’t always the fastest sometimes you have to go out of your way and there’s logic to the back roads once you get your sense of direction you can’t really be on autopilot thinking about your job or about what someone said or all the other strange memories that just pop up in your head while driving and yes the road less travelled is a mighty fine road so the metaphor suits the advice too because you can be like all the others waiting in traffic or you can take another way with maybe a few more turns a trick of navigation in a day and age when most people can’t see the stars or the angle of the sun on which side the moss is growing and that strange phenomena of electromagnetic fields which thanks to Maxwell gives us all our tech toys makes it so we don’t even need an old-fashioned compass but it’s all relative anyway even the laws of money and if you take that road if you go it alone why you might get there faster but that’s just another nuance to the metaphor to the literal meaning because there’s nobody in front of you and no one behind it’s like you skipped ahead and it can be dangerous you can risk your life like on some roads up in Montana when it’s forty below you might go for miles stretches of desolation (and on the mountain roads it can be a thing of great beauty) where you don’t see another car not another human being and if you’re not ready if your car breaks down or you lose the road in a whiteout you can die get frostbit in a matter of minutes and see that’s the nuance of those back roads their danger their allure how we are commissioned to go out onto the highways and byways because you can’t always do what you are told so don’t always listen to what your friends tell ya and the indoctrination you’re about receive it’s a good thing but keep your eyes wide shut even when you’re staring off into space be thinking of other ways to get to your goal and remember when you skip ahead when you take another route and get there before the other guy don’t be surprised if you’re accused of cheating while there’s some who still ask you for directions and that’s how it starts big even though it’s really small because the best place to learn this is with your buddies the best place to know the back roads is in your hometown

i think i’m afraid
Of what?
of what i don’t know

shit you’ll be wondering about that until the day you die it’s just that as you get older it bothers you less you’ve been through enough experiences where there was nobody there to help you that you’ve learned to rely on yourself and despite the dramas the outcomes don’t matter and just like my daddy used to say to me I’ve forgotten more than you’ll learn and maybe in a way that’s all that it is all that senility is—your mind just says enough in its graceful decline…

and the uncle thinks to himself:

yes and you will go and then come back and do not think that what you take from it you will remember and others will not for they will remember things too that you have forgotten and the key that holds it is in the context

so that’s the way the uncle is with his story what he’s trying to tell his nephew before he goes off to boot camp and this is where the imagination comes in the power of misdirection for what really happened and what you see are two different things and how the uncle sees this conversation is how he imagined it to be he could put himself in the position of his nephew for he had been there once so he could imagine his feelings and thus see his reality but that’s the funny thing what words manipulate for even if god forbid you’ve walked a mile in another’s shoes (and I was lost then drunk wandering the crooked sidewalks on a broken ankle and I smelled honeysuckle) do you really know how another person’s feeling and if you look at it with statistics demographics the answer’s no because we all come from different places but when you look at the language even in its abstract mathematical form we come together as an audience we feel the music laugh and cry at what’s on the screen get lost in the world of a book so then the answer’s yes because one thing all artistic forms teach us is we can and do feel the same even with our variegated backgrounds the nonlinear effects of lineages (and I was lost then but something clicked and since then I gained my sense of direction I didn’t have to memorize maps and landmarks it might take me a minute but I can always get pointed north but if any of my friends remember from that time I got lost easy which is easy to do in New Orleans because hell the back roads there all the roads there curve with the bend of the river) and so let’s get down to brass tacks

yes looking back the uncle doesn’t know if he knows something now or if it was just a pile of salt because when you get down to it what people really pride themselves in in the ever-revolving dynamics the ebb and flow of contacts our movements our comebacks like we’re always mingling at a party is not how well you do math or your vocabulary it’s how quickly you can read expressions the emotional aura of the person or persons you’re with and what you do with this knowledge is a moral choice it’s almost like twenty questions with us we size each other up and with a little background what we reveal with our likes and dislikes we think we have an accurate portrait maybe even a title for it a profile. So let’s resolve some of that mystery let’s get to the bottom of Jason K. Akley what you need to know about this uncle this man about to turn forty not really giving advice to his nephew (other than the never giving eye contact thing) but in seeing his nephew grow up and now seeing him join the military like he did like his father did well it just made him want to reclaim some of those memories take another look at them after some twenty years not really a nostalgia but yeah I guess like sitting around on a Sunday afternoon listening to songs from those times what you felt in them then and what’s been fulfilled in them now and so he was well aware of some of his own issues how it was true he was born with a shy tendency a passive nature the same tendency he saw now in his younger daughter who was hesitant to try new things and would cry when put on the spot (funny she’s a little artist loves to draw and write even her kindergarten teacher used the phrase “she’s a good writer” in her first quarter evaluation) so that’s where nature comes in but then there’s the nurture part and my mother god bless her is kind of a fearful and superstitious woman who tends feed on drama and negative energy (thankfully my girls’ mother is not like this and I can already see my younger daughter coming out of her shell—maybe she won’t be a late-bloomer) I’m not saying she was a terrible mother but she enabled that shy tendency and complicated it with the Pentecostal church and my father didn’t really have a father his father just beat the shit out of him until he died and then his step-father beat the shit out of him until he left the house when he was sixteen with one pair of blue jeans still managing to graduate as valedictorian of his class and gain a scholarship to Southern Illinois University in Carbondale where he met my mother. He never beat me but he was the kind to let things stew and fester (my mother’s nagging didn’t help) and then he would blow up and give a good lashing with his tongue and I hate to admit it most of his advice when he gave it just discouraged me because I was too young to be cynical but now that he’s gone and I’m barely three years older than how old he was when I was born I can see he was just preparing me for some hard lessons and I used to laugh as he tinkered around the house in retirement (he was a full bird in the Air Force) but he would just take my mockery as casting pearls before swine and he’d say, “Your dad’s a genius.” (I’ll admit he made me laugh a lot and there’s that picture of you standing by the coffin with the American flag spread over it you were only about five then but man you loved your poppa and I’m glad you didn’t have to see it really see it and remember how hospice just slowly increased the doses of liquid morphine how his eyes became glass how I saw death in my father’s eyes…)

that’s not what i really want to know
I know—you want to know how this plays into the role of alpha male… You took it didn’t you?
The Myers-Briggs test–for your MOS, or what in the Air Force we called our AFSC–they’ll probably give it to you later…

yes and when I took it I wasn’t sure how to answer but then the test is sort of set up for that it’s the same question just asked in different ways like when you say do I contradict myself and the answer is yes (dark and light the weak and strong force electromagnetism the mystery of gravity–Nature is a quantum foam of polar opposites–and the hallway was outside the doors opened to the outside and her floor was one below and his floor was one above and it’s his birthday and she’s following him her red hair in tones of gray and the winter shadows of a Texas midnight) but then you are a hypocrite because do you contradict yourself do you shout it a barbaric yawp from the rooftops of the world what word comes to you what will the next word be will you look back will you hang your head after you freeze for a moment and play your life in rewind to what was just said and get another meaning out of what you’re merely imitating and you begin to know why the complexity of it as more people join along because we’re all hypocrites to a certain degree of blind ignorance and what you embrace about yourself and they say drink it drink what? for even if they sugarcoat it into the red or blue pill and what will I do to whom do I belong who am I? these questions expose more than any answer will so instead of giving you some young adult fantasy about how special we all are that you have to never fear being ordinary it’s better to face the absurdity of suicide how everyone is talking in your head after you try the Kool-Aid and we know what’s going on it’s just that you begin walking around in a glass cage of emotion a menagerie where what you said is reflected back refracted with the fears and doubts in the eye of the beholder and it can be a hilarious funhouse of mirrors but as soon as you stop and fall in love with yourself beware of cracks that’s how the light gets in and what doesn’t cancel the other out why that’s your lovely image on the wall and so don’t forget–a hypocrite hides yes answer as befits the question the form of the question there already in your mind and anyway don’t worry… it’s multiple choice

and so he turns to her and even without the moonlight he can see her eyes see that she’s smiling waiting to see what he will say for she has been following him without words and he says:

i’m stupid

the smile never leaves in fact it spreads to her eyes and without ever saying anything (how about that the mystery enshrouded in silence how less is so much more because then we begin to attribute ourselves to that other person and we want them we yearn for their silence to mean there’s something they’re not telling us that we too belong in that knowledge) yes not a word she says she just does an about face and walks away…

and really it’s all a mind fuck. your military drills your art your music your social network that book you read to avoid people what soothes you to bed at night what isolates you to connect you–it’s a mind fuck. and can any hell be anymore imaginable and real than now? you look and I listen so don’t put yourself in every situation–it ain’t worth it it’s boring actually watching your seeds grow–it’s like watching the pot boil when you’re wishing for poinsettias… and it’s the beauty and the mistake when you know you’re fucked because am I awake or am I still dreaming (is this still a conversation?) for I’ve shared this and I’ve shared that those trips down memory lane love unrequited all that says yes all that says no so i remember after texas back in los angeles i was watching “cool hand luke” with the girl with red hair and she had a sucker in her mouth. maybe it was the part with lucille but i reached over pulled the sucker out of her mouth and leaned in for a kiss… i won’t forget how she just smiled and said no


KT Tunstall – Tangled up in blue (Bob Dylan) sott.ita.

“Copyright music and lyrics reproduced by kind permission of Special Rider — for original, exclusive performances by Bob Dylan…

Like · · Share

Write a comment…

and I tried to tell her this but she still doesn’t get it she doesn’t know time yet how words can glow like burning coal written in my soul from me to you how I tell her when I will see her next how there are week days and there are week ends and that Christmas comes but once a year how military leave is precious and I tried to tell her how time is nonlinear it’s cyclical how yet it arcs about the radius but she’s merely eight her sister but five so I will listen to her arguments and understand there used to be a record store uptown near tulane campus can’t remember where but i do remember i had never heard of leonard cohen and i found this album and bought it because the first song had the same name as a girl i had an unrequited love affair with my first two years of college… i did take her to the air force ball my sophomore year and when she said “i’m the brown eyed girl” when the song came on as we were dancing i didn’t say yes


Leonard Cohen – Suzanne

Suzanne takes you down to her place near the river You can hear the boats go by You can spend the night beside her And you know that she’s half crazy…

Like · · Share

Write a comment…

but that’s why you wanna be there because I can be crude and call it a mind fuck or I can say I touched your perfect body with my mind, or as the man Tolstoy put it:

If a man, without exercising effort and without altering his standpoint on reading, hearing, or seeing another man’s work, experiences a mental condition which unites him with that man and with other people who also partake of that work of art, then the object evoking that condition is a work of art. And however poetical, realistic, effectful, or interesting a work may be, it is not a work of art if it does not evoke that feeling (quite distinct from all other feelings) of joy and of spiritual union with another (the author) and with others (those who are also infected by it).


The chief peculiarity of this feeling is that the receiver of a true artistic impression is so united to the artist that he feels as if the work were his own and not someone else’s — as if what it expresses were just what he had long been wishing to express. A real work of art destroys, in the consciousness of the receiver, the separation between himself and the artist — not that alone, but also between himself and all whose minds receive this work of art. In this freeing of our personality from its separation and isolation, in this uniting of it with others, lies the chief characteristic and the great attractive force of art…

so it’s a free for all and what am I really doing here am I connecting you with it am I here and you’re there or is there a moment maybe when you’re flicking through the news feed of your world and you say huh maybe this connects to this and that connects to that and maybe this was said because of that and I ask you is that linear what should I tell my daughters about time about that dream’s parade of lovers from the other times and places how now no it doesn’t matter now no matter who because the best example of this is like having dinner with a schmuck (you may say that I’m a dreamer but I’m not) and realizing the idiot who entertains you over whobeast that fool on the hill that soldier getting over the war–well, he might just be getting a free meal

so the uncle puts it in real time not that the nephew is listening this has been (it has always been) and will become something that will be read and reread for its different meanings so if you happened to look today if you happened to find his nephew’s timeline if it’s shared there (he’s home now–a soldier’s home for the holidays–and I’ll see him on Friday) you might happen to read:

on a personal note, i’m scheduled for another hemorrhoid band ligation procedure tomorrow at 9 am at the VA… have to work tomorrow evening and Christmas too. could i should i spin dirty limericks about the whole holiday affair? i’m open to suggestions

Like · · Share

shannonShannon Bauer A wooden pickle…..

December 23 at 1:25pm · Like

jasonJason Akley i think i turned a corner

December 23 at 1:27pm · Like

shannonShannon Bauer Many many years

December 23 at 1:27pm · Like

jasonJason Akley well… at least i accomplished something

December 23 at 1:29pm · Like

Write a comment…