[Note this was written about 2 weeks ago.]
Sitting here with Lou Brutus and HardDrive. Another Saturday night in Department of Corrections. Red Light Kings are singing about a bullet in my hand. I have no bullet in my hand. What I have is a pen in my hand. Some time back I traded my gun for a tube filled with ink. At times my pen is as dangerous as a gun. Words truly are a mother fucker.
So, I see Mr. Brutus stopped by the Jail Bird and showed some love. That put a big smile on my face. I had his Facebook comment printed and mailed in to me. Then showed it to the guys back here in lock up. HardDrive made even more fans back here. Thanks Lou!
I crossed a personal milestone last week. No, getting myself off five times in one week was fun.....but I am referring to my 100th piece of art! There aren't 100 pieces on the blog yet, but I have 100 pieces out there floating around. Probably stuck in someone's kitchen drawer under all that junk we spoke about a while back. They also make a fine paper airplane. None-the-less, there are 100 numbered pieces of my art out there.
On an average, I put 15 hours into each piece. That's a lot of time spent pushing a pen across paper. If I had put that kind of time into my woman, I wouldn't be divorced, and I would no doubt have 15 kids instead of just one.
I wouldn't trade my daughter for the world, and I wouldn't have found the love of my life if I wasn't divorced. Well, the reason I'm divorced is because I found the love of the week a few too many times during my marriage. Can I make a joke about that? I'm sure a dude just laughed somewhere. But, some woman just cringed. Not my woman.
My wedding song was by Edwin McCain I'll Be Better When I'm Older. Problem was...I was 19 years old when I got married. That was a lifetime ago and I did indeed get better when I got older. I just wasn't so good back then. Kind of like a green tomato. Leave it on the vine until it turns red....it's not ripe yet. Or, pick it while it's green....put it on the windowsill and see if it ripens on its own.
It only took me 10 years on the shelf to get my shit straight. Good luck to the woman who marries that 19 year old dude. Hope that works out for you.
My brother asked me the other day why my ex-wife's name is still tattooed on my arm. I told him to remind myself to never do that again. No. I will get married again. But the whole tattooed-name-thing? Totally bad luck.
That 19 year old kid grew up. He now has a 14 year old daughter. It took some time, but Edwin McCain was right...we get better in time. I'm four years sober from drugs and madly in love. I have a smile on my face even though I'm still a big hop-and-a-skip from freedom. My heart and spirit are free. Right now, I have a concert to get back too.
Hey Lou!! Let's get this shit rolling! Can I get some Pantera Cowboys from Hell?
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