I Was a 12 Year Old Rock Star

I am still trying to warm up enough with the guitar, rather than bass, to impress the youngest nephew’s boy. I have until Thanksgiving, unless they both stop over to assess the brick patio situation. I had felt that it would be a good chance to consider the geometrical aspects of the failing construction. I am plugging up the hole where the water runs down like a river. It moves over, and then back to the ‘rising” corner post. Alas, it will still run down the steps on the short hill from the Gay-Raj. As long as someone is willing to sweep all of that water over to the grassy side of things, it will all be okay. Right? If I shovel the snow into the planter box, and over behind the tree, things should bode well for next spring as well. I still need to saw that little (????) post, while then determining how much of a middle chunk to fully remove. If that raunchy (?????) doesn’t tip right down, only The Hammer of Thor will work at that point. Do you know what a circus tent is? Imagine 3 1/2 foot sledge, my cute young, little babies! We would whack, and whack, and even take turns pounding. That would have been for some of the smaller tent jobs, during the busy season. We otherwise had powered “pile-drivers” for those rail-road type of giant nail things.

Partial From Book; Magazines, and tinseled teens, a baby knowing what it means, so well dressed up in denim jeans, while playing out such campy scenes,

You’re my heartache you’re my dream, or just a nightmare I’ve once seen I hold you closely but yet I know, that in the end you’ll only go………………………..(edited)….