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KentuckyPython - Archived Blog Posts

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A tiger in a cage
can never see the sun
this diva needs her stage baby
lets have fun
you are the one i choose
folks will kill to fill your shoes
you love the lime light to now baby
so be mine but don't waste my time
cryin' 'honey bear are you still my, my, my baby​

That's my signature song just like dirty martinis are my signature drink, and caviar is my signature food. Now that doesn't mean I'll turn down a Jack Be Dandy or a nice slice of chocolate decadance, but those are more specialities than anything else. Besides, there's a major difference between signatures and favorites. This Side of Paradise is my signature novel, but it's really not my favorite.

The crowd at the Stadium seems to be having a good time. They're spelling Cards as I type. I do hope U of L comes out on top.
 
Okay, we found Howl completely lame, dull and boring. That’s how we wound up at our place, with Slash in tow. Being pelted with ice cubes wasn’t exactly my thing, so I pulled off my shirt (it was part of a threat), and I wound up posed upon the bed standing so regally upon the dias getting my picture taken. Hmm, I just wasn’t the first one doing that either. From there we were off to grab some food and hit one of the Pubs. I’m not 100% on what led us to a straight strip club, but some things just need to be experienced. And what happens with Slash stays with Slash. However, $3.75 for a Diet Coke is a little much. The Beale Street walk and throwing our Blues off into the River was pretty cool though. And I didn’t even have anything from the agave.

I’m beat. It’s well after 3:00, and I’ve just gotten off the phone. I really need to go to bed or I’m going to be sleeping during the ballet in a few hours.
 
Мартини водки, пожалуйста

It’s like The Elected Lady said all those years ago, “It’s not too much weekend. It’s not enough.” Yes, ma’am, I agree with you on that whole heartedly. Tomorrow comes far too soon for me, and it won’t be the weekend again for five days. C’est le monde. È l'universo.

Pumpkin soup two days in a row is a superb treat, and today’s recipe was different from the one yesterday. Better yet, I was only involved in the eating. I didn’t have to cook or wash up. I’d gladly have more pumpkin soup again tomorrow. Oh, I’m going to have to make my cold cherry soup as a first course soon. Proceeding we’ll have caviar and Roth, and followed by some delightfully roasted game birds (yet to be determined) and washed down with a fine Beaujolais. Following the salad, something flaming would be grande. You are getting this aren’t you Babe.

Remember, this Diva needs his stage.
 
I've done my duty. I've marked my ballot. Is there more to be said? It was short, sweet, and as painless as the flu shot I took this morning.

And unlike the flu shot, I didn't have to strip down. While I have absolutely no hesitation about getting shirtless with other people (see below) I didn't want to be considered offensive. It's like the guy behind me in line said, there are times when you wish you had a six pack.

The shrimp scampi over angel hair that I did for supper was divine. I need to pair it with something next time I fix it--like a salad with a red wine vinegrett. Of course I was out of a good Chianti. Hmm, but I do have fava beans now that I think on it!
 
It's one of those nights in Indian Summer when it's invigorating to be out in the world. It's neither hot or cold nor humid or dry. It's the near perfection that's seldom achieved. I can stand in the atmosphere of the world and become one with the Universe. I can sit in my apartment and realize that I am both grande and minute. It's part of the world--what some call the inter-dependent web of life. Perhaps, but to me it's more. It's the perfect fusion of light and dark and wonder and understanding and joy and grief. I know the quintessence of Yin & Yang. I become the Freedom of Bondage, and the passion of indifference.
 
Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck;
And yet methinks I have Astronomy,
But not to tell of good or evil luck,
Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality;
Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell,
Pointing to each his thunder, rain and wind,
Or say with princes if it shall go well
By oft predict that I in heaven find:
But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,
And, constant stars, in them I read such art
As truth and beauty shall together thrive,
If from thyself, to store thou wouldst convert;
Or else of thee this I prognosticate:
Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date.

--That Stradfordian Guy


My eyes are not too bloody to see, but I was out last night in Partyville. It’s nice that we now have a place to go to, and that we end the evenings with a Beale Street Walk–thanks to another special someone introducing the concept. It doesn’t matter who’s with us or what time it is. Of course, once it’s truly cold, I’m not sure that we’ll spend three hours sitting on the levee talking about everything that comes to mind, but it’s nice. It’s a time when we can be us without worrying about the Rest of It.

I hope the interview goes well on Monday. I’ve got the clothes picked out, and I’ll press the pressibles tomorrow. I know a suit would be awesome, but mine are too big, and right now getting one is a little silly as I’m planning to drop down some more fat. I’m going to have to approach Mr. D and see if he’d be interested in getting together on Saturdays for some kind of cardio.

While I’m not happy that I missed my chocolate pancakes this morning, the turkey bacon and egg wrap was good. If I’d actually put on some clothes I could have picked up milk and honey at the grocery, but I didn’t, and I didn’t. And I’m still not to be honest.
 
It's been one of those Wallace Stephens-esque days that I love. While it's not quite Winter, there is still that certain slant of light in the afternoon. I know it will come, but it isn't here yet. The lamp of heaven will begin his descent into the Underworld to be reborn on the morrow, and we will rejoice in a new day. For now, I've got some jazz pelting from the radio, a good cup of drink before me. The Gods are on Olympos, and all is right with the World.

Here shortly, I'll go in and browse through my collection to find the right pair of cuff links. I know the ones I want, and it's embarrassing to admit this. I cannot recall if the ones in mind are actually mine or if I was merely lusting after them in a window some aeons ago. We shall see.
 
Man, I just hate it when I'm sitting there, and we're playing a nice leisurely game of chess, and the men on the chessboard get up and tell me where to go. Now, in the first place, it seems a little rude out of the chessmen, but it also disturbes the hell out of the game. And when the little wanks move about, it's difficult to get them back into place. Evs!
 
On occasion, I like to put in a CD of Baroque opera (especially Castrati), and pretend the I'm one of the Medici in the Uffizi with all of Firenze at my disposal. It's not a bad way to pass the afternoon. A good cardio work out followed by a meal of gambero scampi over capelli d’angelo and washed down with a glass of Metlot-Sauvignon.
 
The birds are thawing while the caviar chills.
The wine lies neatly on its side.
The oysters are shucked,
And the olives are stuffed with
anchovies and soaking in brine.

With corn bread to bake
And almonds to blanche
And carrots to julienne
The pecan pie came from the store.
 
Black Friday

It's that time of year isn't it? I've lit the candle, and it's time to say a prayer. Soon it will be time to bathe my livingroom in the light of candles in all shapes, sizes, colours, and fragrances with incense to blend it all together. First will come the green and red and Dragon's blood. First will come chocolate and blood red wine. First will come all the things that come before. Then it will be time for all the things that come after.
 
I got nipples on my titties, big as the end of my thumb,
I got somethin' between my legs'll make a dead man come,
Oh daddy, baby won't you shave 'em dry?
Aside: Now, draw it out!
Want you to grind me baby, grind me until I cry.
(Roland: Uh, huh.)
Say I fucked all night, and all the night before baby,
And I feel just like I wanna, fuck some more,
Oh great God daddy,
(Roland: Say you gonna get it. You need it.)
Grind me honey and shave me dry,
And when you hear me holler baby, want you to shave it dry.
I got nipples on my titties, big as the end of my thumb,
Daddy you say that's the kind of 'em you want, and you can make 'em come,
Oh, daddy shave me dry,
(Roland: She ain't gonna work for it.)
And I'll give you somethin' baby, swear it'll make you cry.
I'm gon' turn back my mattress, and let you oil my springs,
I want you to grind me daddy, 'til the bell do ring,
Oh daddy, want you to shave 'em dry,
Oh great God daddy, if you can't shave 'em baby won't you try?
Now if fuckin' was the thing, that would take me to heaven,
I'd be fuckin' in the studio, till the clock strike eleven,
Oh daddy, daddy shave 'em dry,
I would fuck you baby, honey I'd make you cry.
Now your nuts hang down like a damn bell sapper,
And your dick stands up like a steeple,
Your goddam ass-hole stands open like a church door,
And the crabs walks in like people.
Aside: Ow, shit!
(Roland: Aah, sure enough, shave 'em dry?)
Aside: Ooh! Baby, won't you shave 'em dry
A big sow gets fat from eatin' corn,
And a pig gets fat from suckin',
Reason you see this whore, fat like I am,
Great God, I got fat from fuckin'.
Aside: Eeeeh! Shave 'em dry
(Roland: Aah, shake it, don't break it)
My back is made of whalebone,
And my cock is made of brass,
And my fuckin' is made for workin' men's two dollars,
Great God, round to kiss my ass.
Aside: Oh! Whoo, daddy, shave 'em dry
 
I have to get up and go to work in the morning. To be fair, I don't have to. I volunteered to do it, and I'm okay with doing it as I get to sleep in a little. Plus, I'm leaving earlier than on a typical work day. Moreover, I can certainly put that money to good use.

As for tonight...It's good to be home early to listen to my favorite radio show. I looked at the clock on my phone and didn't know if I'd make it or not. I even have time to spare. While it's fun to be out playing half the night, it's also good to be home with some champagne and oysters awaiting me while I kick back on the couch in my scrub pants and too big t-shirt.
 
Now I know why the play was sold out. It's hysterical, and I finally got to see something closely resembling my family on the stage. It's incredible! The energy of the cast spread into the audience, and together we were able to make it a great evening. One of the things with theatre that doesn't happen with movies is the synergy. There's no symbiosis going on. Don't get me wrong. I love a good film and see a magic to the celluloid, but it's not the same by any stretch of the imagination.

And I should have done the "here's my number" thing with the guy who sat next to me. I'm still too timid in those situations--I think.
 
Lyrics:
Desmond has a barrow in the marketplace
Molly is the singer in a band
Desmond say to Molly, girl I like you face
And Molly says this as she takes him by the hand

Ob-la-di, ob-la-da,
Life goes on, bra
La la how the life goes on
Ob-la-di, ob-la-da
Life goes on, bra
La la how the life goes on

Desmond take a trolley to the jewelers store
Buys a twenty carat golden ring, (rin-ring)
Takes it back to Molly waiting at the door
And as he gives it to her she begins to sing (sin-sing)

Ob-la-di, ob-la-da
Life goes on, bra
La la how the life goes on
Ob-la-di, ob-la-da
Life goes on, bra
La la how the life goes on

Yeah, In a couple of years they
have built a home sweet home
With a couple of kids running in the yard
of Desmond and Molly Jones

Happy ever after in the market place
Desmond lets the children lend a hand
Molly stays at home and does her pretty face
And in the evening she's a singer with the band

Ob-la-di, ob-la-da
Life goes on, bra
La la how the life goes on
Ob-la-di, ob-la-da
Life goes on, bra
La la how the life goes on

Happy ever after in the market place
Molly lets the children lend a hand
Desmond stays at home and does his pretty face
And in the evening she's a singer with the band

Ob-la-di, ob-la-da
Life goes on, bra
La la how the life goes on
Ob-la-di, ob-la-da
Life goes on, bra
La la how the life goes on
And if you want some fun
take Ob-la-di-bla-da
 
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