Before anything else, I very much need to add a little bit of clarity, some wanted context, around some recent posts. Of course, I would NEVER divulge or publish anything private and/or relating to discreet matters.

After a quick review of some posts, I understand there’s a likelihood that two persons in particular might have negative feelings about some of the posts/purging herein. However, in my defense, may it please the court:

First, I move that Judicial Notice be taken that everyone else, all but two bitter persons, are more likely than not pleased and happy to see and read about various memories depicted herein. I still chat with some.

Second, setting aside most of the notes and texts, all of the pictures were already posted on a social media page at one time; and, as for the notes and texts, I think they provide a nice response to the rumors about me.

Lastly, after conducting a diligent search, I haven’t been able to discover a fuck left to give either of them. Seriously, I conceded my wrongs, made my amends, and expressed a willingness to make things right. I’m done.

—ooOoo—

Yep – It’s true. I’m returning to the French Quarter Festival this year. Since this will be a solo run, meeting my son(s) and their girlfriend(s) at times during the FQF, I’ve decided to simply rent a room in a 200+ year old mansion in the Heart of the French Quarter. Check this place out:

I’m doing it right too. I’m getting in the day before, so I can catch any pre-FQF events, which also means I’ll be there for the opening second line.

Nothing like eating bags of Zapp’s off the ground for breakfast, thrown there by sexy drag queens wearing rainbow lingerie drinking hurricanes in the back of an old (yet fabulously decorated) antique fire truck.

I also plan to go to a couple of my old spots. Definitely, of course, super-secret spots not found in brochures, with lots of scantily clad people.

—ooOoo—

I made a decision to get going again. No more sitting on my ass.

December was a train wreck of a month, leaving me feeling fat, lazy, disconnected – generally blah about everything. Fuck that. I’m done.

I’m going back to my happy place. No more sugar. No more bread. No more nonsense. I’m going back to eating things that make me feel good.

I made a decision not to worry so fuggin much about fear. Que sera, sera.

—ooOoo—

I wasn’t joking the other day. Recently, I find myself scrolling through old files and computer drives, reading my utter nonsense from a gazillion years ago. It’s pathetic. Makes me cringe. Too many words. Too flowery.

I prefer being more direct these daze. No more dilly dallying. Simply say it like it is, without some abstract obtuse wannabe poetic flare. My most successful line: “Would you like to have sex with me?” Never misses.

—ooOoo—

I wanna write a new story. A sexy story. A beautiful love affair with forbidden fruit story. A Cleopatra and Mark Antony meets Edward VIII and Wallis Simpson meets Debbie Does Dallas meets The Sixth Sense meets A Beautiful Mind meets Sunny Lane where our brilliant autobiographer cocksman abruptly discovers his most intense, most playful, most exploratory, most fucking crazy of all time lover is merely a mirage – a horny figment of his albeit most passionate imagination.

I know just the song…