Dear Wanda
I'm finally starting to feel like I'm amongst the living again. I'm sorry that I haven't been writing like I should but damn it all to hell, this getting old is for the birds. I'm getting back into the swing of things again. The black cloud seems to be fading.
Yea for sex, drugs and rock and roll and yes beer. In fact talking about beer my son-in-law and I just got through making a batch of our own ale from scratch. We'll be bottling it this weekend after five weeks of drooling in our water. Anymore I'd rather just get the drunk on with Southern Comfort and Seven Up but my son-in-law is crazy about different beers and someday wants to open his own brewery. I have my doubts that he'll get it done but who knows. No one thought I'd write books either.
One of the reasons I mention the booze is that when I broke and trained horses I got a hold of a stallion that hated me. Of course he hated everyone I think. Okay why did I have a stallion. Well Grace divorced me and I was lonely for company. So I bought a stallion and a mare. The stallion wanted nothing to do with me unless it was to take a chunk of meat off my body. I spent three months going up to the corral or stall and would try and softly pet him. He'd let me stoke him once then he'd try to bite me. I don't know whether you know but for a horse to try and bite means he hates you with a passion. I don't even know why he hated me. For Christ's sake I got him a mare to fool around with and fed and watered him. Hell I cleaned his shit out of his stall which I would have to lock him out of just to get the job done.
Well anyway. I spent months just going up to him and trying to pet him. He'd try and bite I'd move back and then try it again. I'd spend hours doing this. After about three months or so I came out one night for the third time that day to spend some time with him trying to pet him but this time I had a drink in my hand. Southern Comfort and Seven Up. I kept trying to pet him but about the third time he was different. His nostrils flared and he seemed to calm down. I went to pet him again and I noticed him eying the drink and not paying much attention to the fact that I was petting him. He kept sniffing my drink so I gave him a taste. He took to me lifting the glass right away. He loved the shit. I went in and got another drink since he drank all of my tumbler himself. I went back out and he drank that too. Jesus I had a lush on my hands.
Within a couple of days this boy was my best friend. He loved the booze so he and I would sit and drink our troubles away every night. He'd sop up a half a quart of the stuff. I kept making it stronger but the stronger it was the better he liked it. He'd drink enough (and so would I) that he and I would stumble around the damn corral together. He'd do anything for a drink. I taught him to shake hands and rear up when told. I could climb all over him. I didn't have any trouble putting a bridle and saddle on him or riding him. No one else could but he and I were the proverbial drinking buddies.
All of that to tell you that this scenario will be in the book. I haven't decided whether it will be Jena, although I think it should be but it could be Ross. I'm not sure yet. He did like the seventies rock and roll while he was drinking. And he had plenty of sex with the mare too so he was in heaven at least for a few years, just like us I guess. It was really pretty funny when he'd get a little touched with the booze and his head would start waving back and forth. He had a song in his head I know.
Okay, I've caught up now so think hard and anything funny and maybe take some Ginko Beloba to remember back when. I like the direction thing. I'm sure I'll be able to use that.
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