Still shambling the streets of the city Nelson Algren defined, I am the Monster in a madhouse refined. Burma Shave.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Fifteen Years Ago Today...
...I wrote on the wall at Graceland. A few stones over, someone had written in Japanese. My cousin Dennis and I walked the dead man's walk through death night, hundreds of candles ahead and behind us. Elvis gospel music wafting from speakers in trees--"Peace In The Valley"--teal lights on the cement like at Ceaser's Palace in Las Vegas. I want to think that Elvis died on his own terms, though not necessarily wanting to die on the crapper. Karl Edward Wagner died on his own terms, of drink and vomiting toast. I'm ready, I think I've written enough, and there are enough campfire stories of my exploits to go around...Wayne
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2 comments:
"...I think I've written enough, and there are enough campfire stories of my exploits to go around..."
Hardly.
I need a few more stories. Hang around a bit more eh? The candlelight march sounds interesting.
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