Those Thrilling Days of Yesteryear!!

Update:

Dang!

I originally wrote this post 2/20. How time flies when one is out of control.

My new ATF blog is How About Now! Apparently I am not alone; Mandymania is sweeping Sex- Blogistan and why not? She's sweet, she's smart (very) and she's Super Duper Sexy!!!...not trying to be a smartass, gang, just reaching for a superlative...waaay out of Ol' Al's league...but this man does love to dream!

Anyway, the lovely Mandy and her (equally lovely, I'm sure) pal "PowerGirl" went to see the artist known as "Folk Rocker". Now in another lifetime, actually about five or SIX lifetimes ago, Ol' Al was a travelling musician. Not renowned, not too well travelled but I had the privilege of making a living by working a musical instrument and singing the hits of the day six nights a week from 9pm to 1:30am at your favorite hot spot.

The narrative of that adventure sent Homey G here back to sweet days of yore:

Hey Mandy-

Gawd…I wish I was Folk Rocker.

I ALWAYS wished I was FR, or even the guitar player.

I was the bass player (really). Off to the side, off to myself…literally and figuratively. Just off.

I was in Colorado Springs for a month playing at the Black Angus Restaurant (THE Hot! Spot!). It was beautiful country, of course. One of the great things about being on the road in those days, the 1970-80’s, we stayed for two weeks…one, two months maybe. Got time to get to know people and places. I fell HARD for the cutest girl…small (in a GREAT way), brunette (always my fave), sweet, SMART, and “Complicated” (remind you of anyone?!). She swam. Her chosen one was the swimmer. Lean, lithe with longish brown hair. She’d come to see me and hope would spring anew, but I left with the most broken of hearts. Sue N. We both had Czech ancestry. I thought it was a sign. I thought anything was a sign.

I also was bedding a wiry, intense, sweaty (not in a bad way…her skin just got moist), blond girl from New York who had a couple kids and was sprung on ME, the poor dear. I thought drinking Black Velvet in my coffee in the morning would eventually induce me to write like Dashiell Hammett or Raymond Chandler (what it did was almost turn me into Kenneth Millar…but without the writing ability). She told me I was going to become an Alcoholic and she was right…I’m 20 years clean and sober this year…and after I moved to Santa Barbara we fucked some more and she eventually got tired of my callow, druggy self importance and moved on. My loss.

Thanks for your post. Your writing is great. Thanks also for the “memory jog”.

Cheers, Al