The Promise Land

 



Was going to send a conciliatory message to members of my estranged family today and discovered that some of them are more estranged than previously imagined. These things happen. It’s been rough. From almost being killed by supposed friends to being accused of everything but the Kennedy assassination I have emerged as alive and well. The little family we put together that so many well meaning people fought so hard to destroy somehow survived and prospered. Thank you Jackie and Timmy for all the help and advice. How’s the rehab coming along? I’m very proud of my son, Wilbur. Nobody in their right mind could ever asperse him, and I won’t start here. 


When I got out of the Wellington and went to Tennessee I had no plans for the future. I was told by a relative that I wasn’t a “real” writer, I’d never had COVID, and the family would be better off if I were back in the nursing home where the family wouldn’t be bothered by me anymore. Well, I accepted that. Then Vic called and we kinda maybe sorta began a movie company. Ya’ll might be interested to know my “family” only used that as further proof of my dementia. And, I’ll have to admit that the trail from Austin to Cannes will tax one’s sanity, but Kielia is a “real” movie. Blue Moon Rising is “really” in post production and Abracadabra is “really” an upcoming book with a “real” film coming out. I’ll bet ya’ll are “really” pissed off!!


Don’t believe anything you hear about me and only half of what you see. If you wanna dig dirt on me you’d better bring a dump truck because it’s all there. I’ve done it all, and if there’s anything that I missed it’s only because nobody ever told me because if they had I’d probably done that too!


I don’t ask forgiveness and I don’t forgive. Vengeance is Mine saith the Lord, and I’ll go with that but I do take a little myself! My revenge is simply living. Not doing any harm and letting the mouths flap. I just WISH I’d done all the stuff I’m accused of. I’d be an urban legend. 


Unfortunately I’m rather boring. I begin my day at 4:AM and go to bed around midnight. Every day. Seven days a week. Producing good, entertaining family material that doesn’t insult the intelligence of Christians. Something acceptable to older generations and interesting to the younger. And if I hadn’t lived the life I lived I couldn’t do that. Yet I’m expected to bow down to people who can’t write a grocery list. Sucks to be you. 


I won’t tell you what set me off on this rant today. What I will say is it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. One toke over the line. I extended an olive branch and got a finger bit off. Well, people will be people. I’m 73 now and I hope that each day that I live sticks in assorted craws more and more each day. With charity for all and a middle finger for some I ask, “What did you come to the desert to see?”



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