Knowing When to Quit

Never.

I would love to say I am such a noble individual and that I do not believe in quitting under any circumstances.

I would dearly love to say it, but it is a falsehood. I have quit at certain times in my life, or more accurately, I just didn’t care enough to fight or stand up for much of anything.

A very laid-back lifestyle of self-destructive hedonistic pursuit is how I would characterize my twenties in Las Vegas.

I quit using my common sense or the MENSA IQ I was blessed with.

Addiction is another form of maybe not quitting, but giving in to something without fighting hard enough.

I danced with addiction (of course I wasn’t addicted, despite what the judge presiding over my third DUI in four weeks said) and admit to abusing alcohol, drugs, and I had absolutely no respect for money.

Exactly what the casinos wanted.

I was the perfect storm for fucking up, but somewhere, through all the fog and smoke, I emerged by winning at the crap tables.

As much as I loved getting lost in my own mind with chemically-induced adventures, I was too chickenshit to really go for it by sticking some needle in my arm.

I have never known when to quit in the unfortunate times I found myself in a fight; I would fight until the very last drop of my blood seeped into the dry desert sand, my right leg twitching as I convulsed before dying, before I would cry “uncle.” So even the fights I lost usually saw the guy who beat my ass walking away and shaking his head in disbelief at my idiocy as I pulled a Cool Hand Luke fight scene on him and refused to quit.

That is why Karen says I look like a patchwork quilt when I am naked from all the stitches and scars that have marred my once buttery-soft burnished skin from the ravages of time and mean-spirited, fleshy individuals.

Wouldn’t change a thing.

I’m not really sure what’s going on with this band I joined, as there hasn’t been any communication in the past two weeks. I am going to continue to book solo gigs and still do my little charity nursing home gigs.

Oh well.

I am thinking of trying to learn the blues harp.

I have finally learned my favorite song of all-time. (Drum roll please)

Your Song by Sir Elton John.

I will post it in tonight’s (tomorrow’s) blog after my gig.

I remember when it came out and of course, it was written specifically for me and my first girlfriend.

I had been playing it wrong for fifty years.

You should be able to tell that Elton John is a big influence on me, both vocally and musically.

California, you are going to eliminate all gas-fueled cars from the road by the year 2035?

You are definitely smoking some of that potent Marin County medical marijuana if you actually think that’s gonna happen.

Typical arrogant horseshit.

Stay well.