Fuel Injection Console Is All Lit Up Again

With the third anniversary of when the writing that became Prince Bashful looming on the immediate horizon, we here at the Jackson Street tribe are still waiting with baited breath for some celebrity or otherwise well-known person or persons to recommend it to his or her devoted followers or million plus Twitter followers, thusly will make the book go viral which will in theory be the causation that Matt Laur interviews me on the Today show, and then nobody I know will ever have to worry about money anymore.

Until then, in the wake of Mom's debilitating stroke in mid-January, I, personally, am assuming the role of family errand & pizza delivery service. Mom is unable to drive again yet, so I have a keychain with a key to her car, a key to my house & a key to my sister's house, and most days out of seven in a week, I am the footsoldier for anything that my Mom, sister & brother might need. We also have purchased Motorola walkie-talkie-type radios, which help keep me connected to Mom - with me in the guesthouse & her some 50 feet West in the main house, my sister's.

Yes, I am renting my sister's guesthouse, which is affectionately named The Loft and also doubles as the headquarters for Studiosixtyse7en Publishing, my own company which both my books are published under.

I also have a ladyfriend, since this past February, which has made life much more bearable.

Fingers crossed for a celebrity endorser. Paris Hilton, I'm looking at you.

Until then, it's nice to be needed around here. It only helps that I love to drive a lot.

...... thanks ...... for reading ......

-kjjr

Father (2013)

My Dad has always been the ultimate male figure I've tried to emulate. He embodies everything a man should be, and also a model for how a father should be towards his son. Wayne Johnson grew up dirt poor in Hattiesburg, Mississippi - his formative years only as many years removed from World War II as we are from 9-11 in the current day. Watching his Dad own and operate a barber shop ingrained the work ethic into him, and at age fifteen he got his first job as a hospital orderly, never to be out of work for even one day until he retired from the power company in 2003, then going on to procure his realtor's license and work in that field for several more years. Dad always went out of his way to consider and include me, and he has saved my ass (literally) on at least a couple dozen occasions. So, my Dad is the one person I officially honor every Father's Day.

There have been several other male role models that deserve mentioning on Father's Day. My male first cousins who are older than me - two from Dad's brother and one from Dad's eldest sister. Only one of them is a father - he has one daughter, just like me. All three of them have been a huge influence on me, if only in my idealization of them.

I have two friends who work at the local theater, where I worked in high school. I have been friends with them both thirty years as of this year. Being friends with them for this length of time has taught me the value of not only having a friend, but also being one.

There is a man in Memphis whom all the dancers call "Dad." During my twelve year tenure disc jockeying in the topless clubs in that town, he was someone who always kept an eye out for me. I thought of him as "My Memphis Dad," and he saved my ass more times than I'm aware of, I'm sure. I always respected him - partly because of the level of respect he gave me and partly because he demanded it. I'm thinking of him on this Father's Day, too.

My own brother - my mother & father's second child - is someone of whom I speak of very little. He's not talking to me right now & I definitely deserve my punishment. He is the unsung hero in my life. I tip my hat & nod to him today as well.

I'm a father, too. There are several defining moments that measure my life "before" and "after" each event. Abigail's being born is definitely one of those defining moments in my life.

Happy Father's Day to all the dads and male role models, all over the world.

...... thanks for ...... reading......

-kjjr

Christ's Mass

I have spent the bulk of this Christmas Day thus far, alone, excepting for my dogs, which are numbered four, this year. At least until the puppies are old enough to be weaned off mother Pennie's milk and sold (will be asking $200 apiece - one male, one female, CKC registered w/papers, current shots at time of sales) to hopefully happy homes. I did visit with my mother & sister for a couple hours, had some Honey Baked Ham brand turkey breast on a sandwich for Christmas Day lunch, trimmed my sister's outside ferns, which have not yet become the latest victims of Jack Frost as it's only dipped below 32 degrees Fahrenheit one night of this winter thus far.

So, here in my loft apartment, there has been computer time, listening to Traditional Christmas songs via Pandora Internet Radio via my Roku brand Internet-stream-player via my old-skool L/R Sony brand home stereo system that I've had since 1994. There has also been dog-time. The puppies like to pee on me, it seems. Then, a few minutes ago, the idea of the prose that makes up the next paragraph hit me.

Of all 365/366 days of every calendar year, including Halloween & my birthday, Christmas Day always stands head and shoulders above every other day. As soon as Midnight hits, the entire following 24 hours are part of a time-warp, of which space time becomes made entirely of snow, ice, the laughter of children, Christmas music, manger hay, Santa's cookie crumbs and reindeer corn. I sometimes get caught up in the moment, as I'm prone to do on most any day, but still: Christmas Day is pure Magic for me. Every year. This year included and, it seems, this year especially.

Merry Christmas from the most high.

......thanks for reading.......

-kjjr

Barbie Bassett & Prince Bashful

Yesterday, I met with my long-time friend, tv meterologist, local television personality and motivational speaker, Barbie Bassett, to deliver her signed-by-the-author copies of my authored books. She inspired me to write my memoir, over a year ago, mostly by writing a book herself, which I read and then a few short months later, I had written my own. There's a lot to be said for inspiring someone to do something they'd always known was in them to do.

I just wanted her to have a copy, so she could have a physical object she can look at and say to herself, "I inspired someone."

Thanks, Barbie.

....and thanks for reading....

-kjjr

Burning Dreams

I have a recurring dream. More of a recurring theme in my dreams. I'm back DJ'ing in either a familiar club with familiar faces, or a familiar yet modified club, with familiar faces. There are always familiar faces. They are always more than glad to see me - practically worshiping my return to the mic, in most of the instances.

There is usually some degree of difficulty getting the CD players and mixing board to operate correctly, which was indeed the case many times in my real-life club days.

This morning, there was some difficulty getting me to the DJ booth, oddly. I had lost track of time in the dressing room, talking at length with several dancers. The manager was somewhat of a rookie, and I didn't know her, and instead of coming to the dressing room and demanding I return to the booth, when I finally did get back there, she and several of the dancers had been trying to DJ in my place and had royally screwed up the equipment.

Then, a team of DJ's appeared and insisted that I move to a DJ booth in the balcony of the club, which resembled a theatre more than a club. Once there, I realized that I only had a mixing board and a mic - no players. The team of DJ's in the main DJ booth below me were controlling the music. My board served the sole purpose of allowing me to control the volume levels on the two channels. They wanted me to MC, and as my voice resonated throughout the massive club, the head tech started a song that immediately brought the face of a dancer into sharp focus in my mind's eye. The song was "Burning Heart" by Vandenberg, and the dancer's face was of "Colleen," from my days at Diver's Den in 1998. She had claimed that song with such passion when I first played it for her, all these years ago. She had claimed it and she owned it then and, apparently, she owns it still: in my memory of her.

And in this morning's dream, as soon as the first couple seconds of the song announced themselves, I looked to my left into what was an upper-balcony VIP room, and Colleen was gathering up her things - just finishing a private lap dance, and was making her way with determination to the stage. Then I announced her and she began to dance. Colleen was always a very graceful dancer. That song definitely fit her to a T.

(If you enjoyed this writing, you definitely should read "Prince Bashful - a strip-club disc jockey's story." Available by clicking here.)

...thanks for reading...

-kjjr

Read, Dear!

Yesterday morning, I reviewed my personal finances and decided to bite the bullet - vowing to suffer any negative criticisms from my parents (and I knew they would be voiced, and they were) about what I was about to do. I did it. I bought a Kindle Fire from Amazon.com.

I wrote my current book, "Prince Bashful - a strip-club disc jockey's story" in a little under three months. I had always paid rapt attention in any and all English classes years ago. But I am almost embarrassed to admit that I have only read about 3 books cover to cover since Jr. High School.

Vicariously, through seeing how eagerly several friends & family members acquired their own copies of Prince Bashful, and after seeing how voraciously they devoured the text - one friend even reading the entire book in a single afternoon - something inside me clicked. I had abandoned an integral element of life before I'd even entered high school. I had stopped reading. I, too, had been a voracious reader. I always blamed my becoming disinterested in reading on J.R.R. Tolkein's Lord of The Rings trilogy being difficult to visualize.

For whatever reasons that had caused me to stop, I realized 2 mornings ago that since I have been missing-out on this part of life for over half of my life, it is time to reacquaint myself with reading.

My Kindle Fire is on its way, and here is my profile on Shelfari, which is a sub-site of Amazon.com.

Thanks to Amazon.com, Myra, Kevin, Wanda, David, BJ, HR, Fonda, Dezron and special thanks to Jay F. And anyone else who inspired me to make this quantum leap back into reading. Wish me luck.

...thanks for reading...


-kjjr

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