“HE’S TOO YOUNG TO KNOW YOU CAN’T HURRY LOVE”

“HE’S TOO YOUNG TO KNOW YOU CAN’T HURRY LOVE” @JosephJohnFull4 https://medium.com/@joefingas/hes-too-young-to-know-you-can-t-hurry-love-86f4e63ebffc

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Posted in Blues, Love, Memoir, Parenting, Poetry, Recovery, Relationships, Uncategorized | 1 Comment

Watch “BUDDY MILES – Them Changes” on YouTube

Posted in 12 Step Meetings, Blues, Denial, humor, Love, Memoir, Poetry, Recovery, Relationships, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

My Mind Is Goin Through Them Changes

I’ve been hearing that song in my head lately. 

Buddy Miles. 

The Electric Flag.

Hendrix.

Band of Gypsies.

Me.

For some reason, my mistakes have become obvious. 

Not the snafus from a drunken land far, far away.

I’ve made up for that. 

But the errors of judgement made while maintaining an existence having nothing to do with booze or other drugs. 

Having everything to do with inexperience, impulsive behavior and the idiocy of a man inclined to avoid the truth.

The other day, I said, “I used to have to have my back against the wall before I’d do anything constructive.” 

That’s when a friend said, “Used to? Like you’re different now?”

That’s when I said, “That’s right.”

And, thats when he said, ” Like you used to lie to yourself all the time?”

Nuff said. 

My back is against the wall. 

Just like the old days.

The only difference is I know my life will be better once I own up to the fact that constructive change is gonna come.

Now, ladies and gentlemen, my mind would like to welcome to the stage, the one, the only, Sam Cooke.

Posted in 12 Step Meetings, Blues, Denial, humor, Love, Memoir, Poetry, Recovery, Relationships, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Mission Accomplished

There’s a back story but, right now, I have no time to tell it to you.

I’m too busy ejecting word blanks from my brain gun after pointing my blog finger at the Word Press target.

My mind sees a bullseye times six.

My eyes see no evidence of bullet penetration.

My mouth says, “All those in favor say, ‘Aye.'”

Aye.

If I wanted to hit the target, I would’ve used live ammo.

If I wanted to move folks, I would’ve pointed my finger at them.

But, that’s what I wanted.

No, I just wanted to squeeze a trigger, make some noise and blow a bit of harmless smoke.

Posted in Blues, humor, Memoir, Poetry, Recovery, Relationships, Uncategorized | 1 Comment

“My brother bought a Harley Saturday.”

“My brother bought a Harley Saturday.” @JosephJohnFull4 https://medium.com/@joefingas/my-brother-bought-a-harley-saturday-8279d548cc84

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A New Trick For This Old Dog

This morning was the worst. I was tired. My knees ached and my feet were still sore from being squeezed into my cheap ass dress shoes all day yesterday. I was beat and I didn’t want to get up.

But Joey had to get to school and I told him I’d pick him up at 7am. I put on my pants and stuck my arms into the sleeves of a hawaiian shirt. Then, I stumbled to the laundry room and pulled his school clothes from the dryer. I yawned and checked my phone as I left the house. 6:48am.

I pulled up to Joey’s house and called him. He answered and asked, “You out front?”

“Yep.”

He hung up his phone and, in less than a minute, he was walking out the door holding a book bag, trumpet case and drink container. He looked tired, too.

I slid from driver’s seat and opened the back door for him. Then, before I could stop my tongue, I said, “Goddamn it.” 

I had forgotten to unpack my music and sound equiptment and most of it was piled on the back seat. I continued to cuss outloud as I worked to clear the sitting area. The car was a mess.

Joey said, “It’s taking too long. I’ll do the rest.”

“Be patient,” I snapped.

“Why are you always so slow?”

“Slow,” I blurted. “I’ll show you slow. Go back into your house and we’ll start this bullshit game over.”

I don’t usually swear around Joey but, this morning, I was vulgar and profane. I had misplaced my filter and I wasn’t trying to find it. I was too tired to care.

Joey just shook his head and climbed into the back seat when it was ready. He stopped arguing with me and settled in with a video on his smart phone.

I pulled into McDonald’s and parked. I gave Joey a twenty dollar bill and said, “Get what you want.”

“Aren’t you coming in?”

“No, I’m not up to being called old and slow today. I’ll just sit here.”

Joey took the money, opened his door and left to place his order.

I closed my eyes and thought, “I love that boy. But, today, maybe I am too old.” 

I took a minute and emptied my mind. I whispered the third step prayer. I opened my eyes, left the Mescalade and walked into McDonald’s to find Joey.

He was sitting at a corner table furthest away from where most of the patrons were gathered. He was sipping his caramel frappe through a straw, scrolling the screen of his smart phone with one hand and unwrapping a bacon egg and cheese McGriddle with the other. A cup of coffee and a sausage biscuit were placed across from him. Joey looked up when I scooted my butt onto the fiberglass bench in front of the extra breakfast and said, “That’s for you.”

I said, “Thanks. Where’s my change?”

“Wha…?” 

Then, he laughed and handed me a ten spot and several coins.

I took a sip of hot coffee and relaxed. My head cleared a little, my bones ached less and, as I bit into my biscuit, I thought, “I’ve just be schooled.”

Posted in 12 Step Meetings, Blues, Co-Dependency, Denial, humor, Love, Memoir, Parenting, Poetry, Recovery, Relationships, Uncategorized | 2 Comments

Not Yet

Sometimes I forget

I’m a lucky man. Forty 

Years ago, I was closing in on

The last days of my life. I can’t say I

Prayed for death coz I had long since 

Stopped all form of prayer but,

I tell you now, I kept knocking on

Its door, trying to pick the lock 

Till I was finally caught 

Climbing through the 

Kitchen window.

The Soul Police

Sent me back home

With a warning.

They said, “Out of town by sundown.”

I said, “It’s almost midnight. 

Your warning’s a bit late.”

Soul Patrol sighed, “Tomorrow’s sundown. 

Idiot. You’ve got till then. And 

Don’t come back before your

Time.”

And I haven’t been back. 

Not once.

Posted in 12 Step Meetings, Blues, Co-Dependency, Denial, humor, Love, Memoir, Money, Parenting, Poetry, Recovery, Relationships, Uncategorized | Leave a comment