Digital Cowboy

Late one morning I just packed my things
Burned all my bills and I hopped on a plane
I told the cops and the bankers goodbye
They said “Don’t let us catch you, you owe us your life”

Well the plane was headed east and so I was
Bound for Tennessee to outrun the fuzz
They found me in a day or two
Now I’m flat busted in jail fightin’ the Nashville Blues

I like George Jones, Willie and Waylon
I think Kris and Merle are songwriting saviors
Townes Van Zandt, he died to soon
But now he’s up there with Hank
And they’re both fightin’ the Nashville Blues

Well the songwriting’s left up to old hillbillies
Hippies and rednecks and girls like Miss Emmylou
I’m too young to have a point of view
But I just want to be a part of fightin’ the Nashville Blues
Fightin’ the Nashville Blues

Fightin’ the Nashville Blues ain’t fun no
It takes it’s toll upon your mind
But all the great ones have been there too
And they’re all fightin’ the Nashville Blues
Fightin’ the Nashville Blues

Well I moved back to Austin to try to make a living
But it ain’t been so easy with those hill country women
And i’m stuck inside of this 8×12 room
And my throat’s a scratchin’ from the cigarettes and booze

And my face is wrinklin’ and my mind’s a strayin’
And I get on my knees and I get to prayin’
But my hands are worn like the soles of my shoes
And the Lord only knows I’m just fightin’ the Nashville Blues

I like Johnny Cash, Willie and Waylon
I think Chris and Merle are songwriting saviors
And old Keith Whitley he died to soon
But now he’s up there with Hank
And they’re both fightin’ the Nashville Blues

Well the songwriting’s left up to old hillbillies
Hippies and rednecks and girls like Miss Emmylou
I’m too young to have a point of view
But I just want to be a part of fightin’ the Nashville Blues
Fightin’ the Nashville Blues

Navel gazing’s never fun, but it can pass the time in a pinch.

Ever seen 87 pages of response to the silly question, “What was your very first thought this morning?” (You didn’t misread it. It really is 87 pages of… nothing. Glaring emptiness.)

Quite sad.

Stupid is as stupid does.

Nothing to believe in is not a pretty place to be.

I’ve said it before. I’m saying it again.

The Bible only mentions three types of women. There’s the virtuous woman that Proverbs 31 speaks of. The other two are the silly woman and the whore.

Those categories are fluid. Every woman chooses what kind of woman she’ll be each morning and it’s never permanent. And as Rush sang, “If you decide not to choose, you still have made a choice.”

I look around me today and see a whole lot of whores and silly women. Including the one I gave my life to. It doesn’t get any sillier than her.

But I have two daughters to raise. It’s becoming very clear to me that I’m on my own there. They deserve better than their mother. I’ve got a lot of work to do. It’s not gonna be easy, but I’ve never backed down from a challenge. I’ll handle this one too. A girl should be able to expect that she can learn how to be a woman from her mother. I haven’t given up hope that my daughters’ mother will get some help and figure it out. I sure can’t count on that, though. For now it seems that she’s chosen to be a silly woman and a whore. The only thing more pathetic than her is the spineless monkey she currently sleeps with.

Single dad is not a job I applied for. I never wanted it. But I can do it. When mommy realizes what she’s lost, maybe she’ll come around. If she doesn’t, me and the girls will go on without her.

I must confess that I’ve broken my word. Failed a promise. She asked me to promise her that I’d kill her if she ever started acting like her mother. I did, but I can’t keep that promise. She’s turned into her mother, but I was foolish to have made the promise. I can’t kill her. I just need to save my daughters from her.

In the meantime, I’ll be doing my best at mommy and daddy both and trusting God to pick up the slack for me as He always has.

I said here recently:

I’ve touched people that should be stars and yet are not,

Here’s what I meant. His name is Chad and he’s got a great voice. He’s also a great song writer. He’s doin’ all right. He’s making a living with his music. Rubbin’ shoulders with minor stars still clinging to past glory. But he should be a star. He’s better than most that are.

I don’t have his best stuff because he’s been holdin’ out on me. I’ve been begging him for years to get me “Number One Son” and “Follow Your River.” Those are both gems he wrote that are worthy of George Strait but I don’t have them.

Go listen and then tell me I’m wrong, keeping in mind that this isn’t his best.

You Stopped Loving Me

A close personal friend told me recently that my picture wasn’t showing up on my blog anymore. I cursed him and Microsoft and told him he was a fool. “It shows up for me even after I’ve cleared my cache and besides, no one else has complained. It’s just you. ” said I.

Then last night, the lovely Andrea mentioned it as well.

I assume my friends are idiots but when a pretty young thing complains, I spring into action! I investigated and discovered a major flaw. I screwed up the code somewhere along the line and the durn picture was coming from http://localhost…

Now, I’ll take full responsibility for this screw up. It’s not my first. What I want to know is how long it’s been this way and why no one spoke up. I know I’m not pretty and you don’t come here for eye candy. But you could’ve said something.

I’m mad at all of you now.

(Is it working now?)