Got to thinking about the Stones for some reason

Haven’t looked at them for a long time now, closing on two years. Mick’s too old to be a sex god anymore. #metoo. Though I heard somebody’s missing. But memories fade away anymore these days. The red circle is Charlie Watts. Best rock drummer ever. He should phone home. Not nice to keep loved ones waiting.

Great story about this record. Showed up in my prep school closet.
Played for years with plenty of scratches but not a skip. Providence.
How I met The Rolling Stones, the only satirists good as me in 1968.

Brings tears to my eyes. Kind of. That unfortunate Beatles phase did no credit to no one. Oh well. Why does this face keep swimming into my ken?



It’s called jazz or something like that. What he loved.

I know. They’re saying he’s dead. Join the Club, Charlie. Three of your best Stones efforts:





Had his own jazz band. Also beat out this Stones rap.

He wasn’t handsome. Sharp, clean face. More like a red eft (ferret) than a porcupine. 


My private name for him was Sredni Vashtar. But I’m old and failing myself. Just watch him.



The last time Charlie was a Rolling Stone.

Where Charlie is, I’m sure.

Something to finish with.

So don’t pay. Try this instead.

Lisa, Lisa, Lisa.

Then there’s this. Sorry. I didn’t bring up the Stones. Monica did. Now everything goes to hell in the Postscript:

P.S. I’m still getting over Bowie dying. He wasn’t allowed. Even if he reminded me of me.


I get confused. Sometimes I’m Jagger. Sometimes I’m Bowie. The girls used to think I was David. Imagine the identity crisis with this:


At one moment I’m this, all finessed and polite…


And then I’m all up in her face…


Feel compelled to show this one:

30 years later, I even have a website.


Getting  to the down-and-dirty family stuff.


Little TG, little Rap, what’s not to like before everything went to hell.

Because all families are dysfunctional these days, and here’s the thing about me.

 I can be Tee-Gee 
For fun and bonhomie 
But that ain’t me.
I a he-man writer be.

Truth is, I remember the night Elvis died. Almost 50 years ago. Stayed up all night to listen. Thought I should have done the same for Charlie. Thought better of it, then did it by accident. 

 
Stayed yo all night when he died. Like I just did, again.

Good night, Charlie.




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