Safe

Being a blogger who mines his own past for material I have to be careful. Unless I am dealing with complete fiction I must step carefully where I may touch upon the living.

I make no bones about the peculiarities of my own life. I lived a fast and furious, involved and wayward existence. By turns, Pius Itinerant, Folksinger, ne’er do well, just this side of shaky legalities, and pusilanimous. I had a good time. So did my friends. The main difference between me and them was that I decided at a point to stop the substance abuse, clean up, and square away. If you are loking for proof that this can have telling effects, look no further. I AM ALIVE, MOST OF THEM ARE NOT.

OBITS

So I regularly check the obits. Of course, I’ve changed names and distorted things. But who wants a death threat from an octogenarian in Tulsa who you accidentally slandered in a ribald tale about a party held in 1965?. Believe me, Chaucer did not have these problems. So I Google and check obituaries, Facebook, LinkedIn, and other sources. Sometimes it gets lonely when I realize that I’m the last man standing. Of course, that just frees me up to be even more outrageous.

Help

Of course, I could use some help. I’m beginning to get old, and lose details. then too after all these years I have started to run out of stories. So this is an appeal to those lurkers out there. Help!

If any of my friends from my Operating Room days are out there lurking…that’s you Rob and Marilyn, I’ve already told the story of how we went to the Boston Premiere of the film Caligula and got kicked out because our loud comments were dirtier than the film. But was it Rob or I that got on the table at the Halfshell to do a strip tease? Or did I just imagine that after a heavy night of drinking?

And you! Charlie! I know you’re out there lurking. What were the details of that trip we made to Pittsburgh? Did you wind up paying child support? And do you still have the lingerie?

Would my dear friend Jim please contact me with the words to that dirty song he used to sing that started, “What’s that smell like fish, Babe…” Google has no results, and every time I think about that coffee house we performed in, I think of you getting up to perform it. We got kicked out and had to hitch back to Portland.

That’s all Folks

That’s all for tonight folks. It’s past my bedtime, and I have to dream up another outrageous…I mean, a sincerely interesting tale for tomorrow.

And will the people I mention please be discreet in posting answers on this website?