Rehab Romance A Publishers Note For Good Measure

                                                                                                                                                                    Jennings Farm Blues Rare Version Led Zep

This is, no doubt, a unique experience reading, editing and then publishing your dead

friends memoir,

entitled,  "Rehab Romance", without first mentioning the significance of our long friendship, good

times and bad, and for the bloody sake of doing it and documenting a story of a dream within a story

of a story. Sort of like a dream in a dream.....so, here goes with a bio interjection and literary

challenge in the search for clarity, truth, and therapeutic relief.

His name is "Bond!"  "James Bond!"

"And I'll take that Martini shaken not stirred, Fuckers!"    Ha ha haaaaa!

 He loved the idea of being a secret agent type, A corrupted Williams Burroughs sort and agent for social change.

 An underground guru of the subterraneans  and hipsters, amongst our contemporaries.  He called us, "The Infra - Red Social Commandos",

A possible name to our Rock band and a speculative term for thought.

On the evening of his last arrest due to having a psychotic lapse in reasoning while DWI and boxed in by New York State Troopers, Bond was unable to proceed down the road.  Drunk again!  We had plans to get together and jam, working on a few songs we had been compiling to play out live.....(really great jazz guitar music, by the way.)

So this was DWI number seven and he was going to jail, re-hab, and then back to jail.  He had never been locked up for any extended period of time on the previous felony DWI's. So, hey,  he pulled a real fuckin' doozy and dandy this time and was now destined for prison 'cause of booze......Man, that shit pissed me off.....I told him, that evening, under any uncertain terms, "DO NOT DRIVE DRUNK!"   I will pick 'ya up anywhere 'ya are and drive 'ya home no matter what the time is....Okay?   He chuckled and said, "Yeah....hahahah, okay......"

One year and a half into his prison sentence, he collapsed and died from a massive heart attack leaving behind two girls and two boys, the youngest being his thirteen year old boy, Hoffman, the good son. Overwhelming anguish, panic, anxiety, darkness and selfish bitterness.  I was sad and mad and had all at the same time and devastatingly crushed...."Fuck.....why now?"  "Why this?"  "Why Bond?"

  After all the years of ingesting copious amounts of drugs, alcohol, women, sadness, anger, madness, mayhem and murder.....why now?   Fuck!   I can only imagine how he felt and how unfair this all seemed to be for his son, Hoffman.  I felt the emotional deprivation and pain as to the thought of who would be the one to tell him that his father was dead after being told he was "away on a business trip" or "on vacation" as to hide the ugly and shameful truth of bein' locked up in a hostile and deadly environment all for being drunk and sick from alcoholism.....so sad and upsetting.....real hell of a depressive emotion, knowing how my son and daughters would feel and think or say if that were to happen to me.....god.....just the thought of it makes me cringe and shudder in absolute agony and escape and unresolved anguish.....

I'll be popping in, back and forth to elaborate for the purpose of context and good measure.

As his story develops, you'll learn of his observations of Ann and her daughter, Lolita Anti'Christ.  

Ann's family is plagued with rape, incest, the constant threat of beatings and murder, abduction and the sexual exploitation's of their children.   Ironically, I presently write these words just across the street from Ann and her family, as I just realized this.   So, Hey.....just a reminder, he did state this was a cautionary tail and to only enter at your own risk when dealing with drug-addled maniacs....Ha hahahhahahahaha