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I was fourteen, and the taunting words of my friend lingered in my ears, "No risk, no reward." He had meant it as a joke. But Bart would not get on stage himself, even though he was a very advanced classical guitar player. I had only been playing for a bit over a year. I …
Daily writing promptWhich aspects do you think makes a person unique?View all responses On the road as a Pius Itinerant, being unique was a survival trait. Different styles of survival for ever-changing environments. I had a knack for finding short-term jobs in strange places and making local contacts rapidly. My frequent travel buddy Bill ( …
Continue reading "Deja Vue, All Over Again- or the Pius Itinerant spills the beans"
"Be aware, traveler, you'll never pass this way again."Â
The boots were greasy calfskin, d-ring engineer boots out of a second-hand clothes store in Lower Manhattan.
I understood from my father and uncle that in the nineteen thirties and forties roadside signs competed to lure you off the high road and to interesting attractions. But my time on the road was fairly standard fare - Turnersville - 10 miles, an arrow, and in small print underneath, " Home of Cecil P. …
Let's face it, punctuation, delivery, facial expression, and body language have lots more to do with obscenity than four mere Anglo-Saxon-derived letters. If I gesture at you, sneer, cackle, and call you an infructescence carbuncle, you won't even think to puzzle out what I said. You'll be out the gate, ready for Freddy, and swinging. …
We huddled in a patch of woods about a hundred yards from the cemetery. From where we crouched, we could see the police car's searchlight and the sounds of the night watchman walking by the stonewall.
Zevon died for our sins.
Last year, one of my winter-time prescriptions for the winter blahs was to pick up the guitar again and begin playing.
Entrance was only granted by living the life.
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