When he was eight he wanted to grow up to be a hunter. His dad was a duck hunter and had taken him out to the duck marsh on opening day. His dad was a fine wing shot, but he was more impressed with the duck calls. His dad did the loud two-quack call designed to turn a Vee of high fliers, and then what he called the “chuckle” which told low fliers that “we are eating well here, come and join.” He fell in love in high school, drank a lot, got laid and swore to her that was going to enlist in the Marines.

In college he had many casual relationships, told them he was going to med school, and drank a lot. Mom got money from divorcing dad and urged him to go to med school; no loans, she would pay full boat. He went, drank a lot and washed out in his second year.

He stayed in that college town, brushed up his childhood keyboard skills and with this trio found steady work in the nightclubs. Pacing his shift drinks and sticking to simple quiet music he plays the night through with a perfect buzz, and hasn’t been laid for quite a while.

If guilt is the damage of childhood, then eros is the fall of
adolescence.
Or the fall begins there, and never ends, desire after desire
parading
through a lifetime like the Ringling Brothers elephants …  Barabara Ras

George's selection of 66 Phlogs is available in print from People's Press.

Posted in phlog | 1 Comment