Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Guess this one didn't pique any interest. Oh well. Better luck next time.

Next!!!!

Dylan... I enjoyed this read very much and hope to read the continuing saga. Congratulations on your survival!

I read somewhere that all human behavior is over determined.

There was a little soul food restaurant in Sanato near our junkyard They had a great juke box, there was only one song on there by a white man. Johnny Cash

Guy Clark song sung by JC
Well, he was wino, tried and true.
Done about everything there is to do.
He worked on freighters, an' he'd worked in bars.
He worked on farms, an' he'd worked on cars.
It was white port that put that look in his eye,
Grown men get when they need to cry.
We sat down on the curb to rest,
And his head just fell down on his chest.

He says: "Every single day it gets,
"Just a little bit harder to handle and yet. . ."
Then he lost the thread and his mind got cluttered,
And the words just rolled off down the gutter.

Well, he was elevator man in a cheap hotel,
In exchange for the rent on a one room cell.
An' he's old: years beyond his time,
No thanks to the world, and the white port wine.

So he said: "Son." He always called me son.
Said: "Life for you has just begun."
An' then he told me the story I'd heard before
How he fell in love with a Dallas whore.

Now, he could cut through the years to the very night,
When it ended in a whore house fight.
And she turned his last proposal down,
In favor of being a girl about town.

Now it's been seventeen years, right in line,
He ain't been straight in none of the time.
It's too many days of fightin' the weather,
An' too many nights of not being together.
So he died.

Instrumental break.

An' when they went through his personal effects,
In among the stubs from the welfare checks,
Was a crumblin' picture of a girl in a door,
An' an address in Dallas, and nothin' more.

An' the welfare people provided the priest,
A couple from the mission down the street,
Sang "Amazing Grace", and no one cried,
'Cept some lady in black, way off to the side.

We all left and she's standing there,
A black veil covering her silver hair.
Ol' One-Eyed John said her name was Alice,
An' she used to be a whore in Dallas.

So let him roar, Lord, let him roll.
I bet he's gone to Dallas, rest his soul.
Just you let him roll, Lord, let him roar
He always said that heaven
Was just a Dallas whore.

Just you let him roar, Lord, let him roll.
I bet he's gone to Dallas, rest his soul.

**************************************

i would like to hear that song at my funeral

thanks for the good reading


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Was that a Johnny Cash song?

Its great.

Guy Clark wrote it, Johnny sang it on the jukebox.

You could die from the cold in the arms of a nightmare,
Knowin' well that your best days are gone.
Pickin' up hookers instead of my pen,
I let the words of my youth fade away.

another song I would like sung at funeral if I have the missfortune to be in some sort of trance and can still hear. I only hope everyone is having a good time at my party.

Have you ever heard The Magdalene laundries Joni Mitchel

I was an unmarried girl
I'd just turned twenty-seven
When they sent me to the sisters
For the way men looked at me
Branded as a jezebel
I knew I was not bound for Heaven
I'd be cast in shame
Into the Magdalene laundries

Thinking of "You got a playboy mommy."

I went to a hooker when I was about fourteen. Never been back. I got some kind of weird autism called Aspergers I think. Money can't buy me love. To stupid to negoiate
I hung with an older crowd back then. It was ugly Dylan. I was totaly turned off. You are right about not being able to figure out men. I used to walk around with "tented pants" all day at school but somehow I convinced myself I was impotent after that night. Male ego's are like peanut shells.

***************
unrelated ramble
This is one sick country these days.

I spent a couple weeks under lock and key with a couple preachers, (diabetes study tightly controled)

This guy was an Apache from Eagle Pass who decided on the Jesus Road. Gay Marriage and Abortion were abominations to him. But he had no problem with the poisioning of the enviorment the children being born with the effects of it. Well hells bells praise the lord and pass the amunition.


good stuff
please keep on keeping on

Interesting. I always get the most amazing reactions to this story.

By the way, this is the 4th chapter I've posted and now I wish I would've strung them all together, for continuity.

ten four, I was thinking about that also, wonder about the flow, Going to sit on my hands. Sorry

You could always repost it. It is not like you did not give fair warning.

once a post is replyied to it can't be deleted, I wanted to delete one to panta because I though I had interupted her 1001 nights post.

I would delete my posts but it just leaves nothing just a blank box.

Can't delete the box. Sometimes if I am in the right mood I have been known to delete hundreds of posts at a time.
Maybe if mtimynd does not mind Doreen could remove all my nonsense and you could start fresh.
done

I'll ask Doreen when I talk to her. Maybe she can show me how to fix it. I'd like to post my picture in that little box over there but I can't figure out how to do that either. LOL

As usual, enjoyed your writing! Your stories have inspired me to start a discussion about memoir writing on that other board you don't go to any more. But you can go there if you want and talk to me about it. Or we could talk about it here. Maybe I'll start a similar discussion here.

As far as merging threads, it CAN be done with this software but not without my adding some modification to it and I haven't done that yet.

For now, if you'd like the chapters to be together, why don't you just repost this Chapter 3 on the other thread. Just an idea.

If you want me to help you get your picture up, just send it to me and I'll resize it to the acceptable size and upload it as your avatar. Some people think it's a little tricky but all you really need is the right software. Sounds like you had your share of tricky and soft wear so I'll be happy to take care of that for you.

I was going to call my book I've been planning on writing for years about dancing in the clubs "No Cover. No Minimum." but I think that title may be more suitable for your stories. (Ya can't have it, though. ha! Unless you steal it. "Good writers borrow. Great writers steal." - Archibald MacLeash) Of course, I'm not suggesting that. I'm sure you'll think up a better title. I'm sorta attached to that title.

Keep on, Dylan. You write 'em. I read 'em.

Keep on, Dylan. You write 'em. I read 'em.

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