Everything seems complex and contorted! I can't seem to do even the simplest things without having to focus and even then it doesn't turn out right. I so want to give up and just let life wash over me. I want to bury my head under the pillow and wait for a better day to arrive. I want to feel the warm body of the girl I've always loved to crawl under the blankets and slide up next to me. I want to hide with her away from everything painful. I want to run into the woods. Climb up the mountain to the cabin. To make a fire and sit down in front of it. To climb out onto the roof with a quilt and watch the stars with her. To hold her tight and let the world spin apart around us.
He's always been a hero of mine! I got into radio, television, film, acting, magic, art... all because of him. He was just that powerful to me as a kid. I remember seeing him on Dick Cavett, Mike Douglas, Johnny Carson and other shows and then I had to find out more and more about him. I didn't know any other kid that was into him like I was.
Tonight he made history, on Oct. 30, 1938, with the radio play "The War of the Worlds," that aired on CBS. Listen to this awesome documentary.
My mind has been worked overtime! It's like my brain was squeezed through an old Maytag wringer washer. I hope my dreams will be good this time. I need some happy, sweet, sexy dream! I need a dream about a mermaid. I need a loving dream. I need some endless sleep. I'm just so worn out. I can't think up anything good to write. I can't even finish this sentence without...
"Jerry, I read your writing everyday. I love it. Sometimes it's so sad I find myself crying. Then the next day you write something that makes me laugh so hard, I am in tears! You make me laugh so loud my co-workers think I'm insane. They see me crying and then laughing and it's all because of your words. You make my day when I come into the office. Please write a book! If you already have, let me know, I will buy them. If not, you should because you would be a bestselling author. I have turned all my friends and family on to your writing and I just know from what they tell me, that they'd buy your books. Thank, Barbara""Hello Jerry, Thanks for all the things you talk about! You make me feel like I'm not alone in this world. My husband passed away two years ago from cancer and he was always able to make me laugh. Even when he was dying he was always trying to make me smile and giggle. If I had a horrible day performing, or forgot my lines, or like one night, step off the stage and fall into the pit, he was the only one that could make me laugh so hard I'd forget the reviews, or bad comments. He told me once, 'When you are down, get happy, because something good is just about to happen!' And you know what, Jerry? He was right! I'm so glad you are there to talk about your life and troubles and loves, because you touch me like no one else does! Thank you so very much, Megan.""Mister Lentz, Your post about your penis made me laugh so bad I blew my soup out my nose onto the work computer and the "X" key stopped working. The IT asshole had to come down and fix it. I thought you might find it funny that it was the "X" key! You make my shitty job easier. I'm taking a vacation in a month to Ambergris Caye and since my boyfriend dumped me, I'd like you to accept this free trip with me! Please look at all my info, pics and think about it! I read you everyday, so I know you need a break and need time to relax. I will make you feel relaxed, believe me! Thanks, Lindee"
Been reading a book I bought for a $1 about The White Stripes called, "I Fell in Love with a Band" and so far I'm digging it. I love the whole DIY aspect of the band and the music scene of Detroit at that time. There's just great stuff in there about engineering sounds, recording, analog versus digital, fashion, upholstering, thrift shops, and making do with watcha got.
Going over some of my video for the "Travel with Spirits: Ghosts of the South" documentary, I noticed some of my audio needs to be enhanced. It wasn't too bad, but I wanted to build and pump it up and layer it. Some of the dialog is fairly crisp and I actually want to try and incorporate an inner thinking kinda sound for some of the narration that I heard on an old radio drama from the 1940s. Very eerie stuff and I doubt anyone has used it like I intend to do.
The documentary is coming along great with starts and spurts and stops and peel outs, but as I piece it together like a ragged quilt, ideas just keep coming. The way I've been working on it, and it's not a way I recommend, but with all the stress going on in my life at this moment; homelessness, illness, depression… It's amazing that anything is working, however my method has been to edit a chunk of an interview or a visit with a subject of a haunting, then work it down and make it cool with all the info and compelling content that these stories are, then I just pop this lil' short film into the edit bin and then shuffle these gems around. Then something cool happened, as the end of one scene butted up against the beginning shot of a random chunk, the two unrelated images created a third idea, or shot that only appears in the mind of the viewer! The mind seems to need to make a connection between the two and it bridges these two seemingly unrelated ideas together making it a very personal experience for the viewer, much like a dark dream. Or I just shouldn't be editing on painkillers!
Still, putting this all together with the hopes of having it released before this Halloween, is looking slim, but it really doesn't matter to me. I'm enjoying the ideas generated by this documentary and its assemblage for what might possibly work in any of the feature films I make.
I'm running into so many creative people here in the South, many actors or performers I might be able to coax into acting for me. There are so many good looking guys down here! Tall, thin, tanned… Meth must be popular here! The women are beautiful! Not a day goes by I don't see a girl that I believe I could make a star! Seriously, a STAR! The South is a breeding ground for potential supermodel types.
Just last night I thought I saw a relative of a friend, it turned out it wasn't, but when she was staring at me, my mind started racing as to why she kept looking even when I was trying to avoid eye contact, so I thought maybe she thought she knew me. Believe me, I was trying not to stare as she was hanging out with a white, muscular and scary military guy, a big black guy and another thinner very feminine black male who was possibly a cosmetology student and I didn't want them beating me up for looking too long at their young female companion. So after an hour or so I leave the fine restaurant I was in and walked to my car to find a red pickup parked next to me with the girl leaning against it.
"I see you're a Mac User," she says in a sweet Southern accent, which was appropriate, I suppose.
"Oh, yeah. You?"
"Daddy's gettin' me one for Christmas he sez."
She shifts on her feet and swings away from the truck at arms length holding the edge of the truck bed, slinging her long blonde hair away from her face and continues, but with a frighteningly intense focused look, "You're not from around here are you?"
Before I can answer, the scary white guy sticks his head out the window to spit and says, "Who'd claim to be from here? Let's go!"
He opens the door and she climbs across his lap.
"See ya 'round," she yells.
I sat in my car and I don't know why I felt this way, maybe it was just caused by some kinda false memory, but I felt like I just narrowly missed an asswhooping or some other unpleasant event. They coulda been sweet kids. I dunno. Maybe it was just a strange psychic disturbance that permeated the air. I felt safer in my car.
I tried to change the subject in my head, so I filtered back to the music I was listening to the previous day. Music from back in the day, that sounded so unique and fresh and new and it's power was so strong, I can remember now how I felt when I first heard it. Back then I ran out to buy it and upon listening to the album on the floor of my bedroom, the thought was I wanted to make movies like the images this music was putting in my head.
Last night, I began singing out loud as I drove off into the dark, wet, warm, and stormy Alabama night thinking about a beautiful young 16 year old girl I was so in love with who lived less than a mile from where I was right then, over 20 years ago and as I sang perfectly to myself, I wondered if it was possible that she was thinking about me at that very minute.
I ain't got no money
I ain't like those other guys U hang around
It's kinda funny
But they always seem 2 let U down
And I get discouraged
Cuz I never see U anymore
And I need your love baby, yeah
That's all I'm living 4, yeah
I didn't wanna pressure U, baby
But all I ever wanted 2 do...
I wanna be your lover
I wanna be the only one that makes U come... runnin'!
I wanna be your lover
I wanna turn U on, turn U out
All night long, make U shout "Oh lover, yeah!"
I wanna be the only one U come 4
I wanna be your brother
I wanna be your mother and your sister, 2
There ain't no other
That can do the things that I'll do 2 U
And I get discouraged
Cuz U treat me just like a child
And they say I'm so shy, yeah
But with U, I'll just go wild, ooh
I didn't wanna pressure U, baby ... no
But all I ever wanted 2 do...
I wanna be your lover
I wanna be the only one that makes U come... runnin'!
Several people have asked me if I still practice hypnosis and whether I still am going to school for it? Yes. I do still study it, but have not been able to acquire the needed funds and open schedule to attend the school I wish.
I could use being hypnotized right now! I have fallen into a deep dark depression quite unlike any I recently remember. It might be the drugs I've been taking. The antibiotics and the steroids and the painkillers, I dunno. Something has to be done, because I am as miserable as I have ever been.
Time was, I used to be such a happy guy! I used to be able to turn around any bad situation. I could find the positive and make it work for me. I had all sorts of tricks to pick up my spirits. Now, none of that works. I should be so happy at this moment in my life, but no.
Just not feeling it anymore. I keep hoping tomorrow will be better, but then it never seems to be.
Always trying to think bright happy thoughts and have positive mental images, yet the darkness sets in. I'm thinking something major has gone bad with me. Some thing in my brain isn't pumping out the needed chemicals to make me feel pleasant or even function as a normal human. Sure, it may be the drugs, but my sadness has been shadowing me for 30 years and I'm sick and tired of it and want more than anything to finally find a way to end it.
I was scared I'd be scarred!I had this flesh-eating fungus chewing away at the skin of my pretty bottom all the way up under my jumblies and around to my sexy boy business! My skin was cracked, peeling, bleeding… It was something awful!But now, either thanks to the various churches that offered to add my penis to their prayer lists, (that is very true, by the way!) or through the antibiotics, or possibly this super-strength prescription lotion fortified with steroids, my sexy boy business is now better than ever!Everyday I wake up and the first thing I do is check my jimmy. Always have! Lately, I would and seeing the messed my poor thing was in, would ruin my day. I even had a woman tell me, "It's okay, Jerry. I'll still love you no matter what happens. Your wang isn't that important."Like it really was gonna fall off. It looked like I would lose it!But yesterday I woke up and it was like a snake that shed its skin! I held it in my hands and I wanted to cry. The new skin was soft and smooth and shiny and beautiful. I wanted to kiss it! I would have, too, but my back was sore. So I just cradled it in my arms. I believe it actually looks better than before! It's like having a new model! It's sleek and aerodynamic and has that new car smell! I can't wait to take it out for a test drive! See what the girls think!It's like maybe it was a good thing? It sure looks awesome! Truly prettier than before! It was like it went through a makeover! I've been dying to show people! If you email me, I'll send you a photo of it!I know what you're thinking! "Yes, please do send me those photos, but let me ask you this, Jerry, 'Do you think someone put a curse on your pecker?'"I did think that! Many, many, many people seem to want to cause me harm. I dunno why? I'm so sweet! I hear it's jealousy."Jerry, I know it wasn't sexually transmitted, but do you think this yeast infection will keep you from drinking beer or eating bread again?"Yes, I do! Even though I never drank beer before, I will no longer eat fresh baked bread, but this will in no way inhibit me from having sex with a drunk girl.Thanks to social networks like Facebook old girlfriends I hadn't talked to in years have added me and tell me sweet things like, "Jerry, you really were one of my first boyfriends, so I believed all guys would be just as well endowed as you, but I was wrong! I should have kept you! I didn't know what I had in my grasp."Most of these old flames are married now with kids, so it's cool to hear that, because they wouldn't have needed to say it, like what do they have to gain from telling me that? They have no agenda! They just wanted to get it off their chests. Obviously they've thought long and hard about it over the years!I keep a file of letters from women whenever my meat is mentioned, in a folder titled: Saturn 5When I thought I was gonna lose my wiener I started reading through some of them to calm me and found these sweet spirit-boosting gems from random gals."Jerry, while you were sleeping I was holding it and resting my face against it and you flinched from dreaming and I asked you what you were dreaming about and you said, 'Enchiladas!'""Whenever I'm at work or stuck in a meeting, I think about how heavy it feels in my hands, the sheer weight of it, the girth, how much I love it and how badly I need it and the feeling makes me want to go on a shotgun rampage throughout my office picking off coworkers. Is that bad?""Jerry, you told me last night you think all women are trained by their mothers to always compliment a man on the size of his penis, so you couldn't trust me when I told you the truth about yours. I want you to know I grew up in an orphanage. I've never been able to tell that to anybody. I know its nothing to be ashamed of, but I thought you should know that and that your cock is huge!"Well, it's true. I think women are told my their mothers to make their men think they're big down there. Maybe not all women, I know that's a generalization, but somehow I've found every women I've been with probably had that conversation with their mother, because they've all said the exact same thing. Coincidence? I think not.
Sometimes, well most times, I think I do better on my own. Like maybe I do better not having to deal with people. I know that may sound strange, especially if you know me. My friends say, "…but Jerry, you are the most social, likable, loving, people person I know!"Sure, I love talking to people, hearing people tell me their most intimate details and stuff, it's just I might be better as a chat buddy, email pal, the dude you know from radio, or that podcast you love that hasn't had an episode in a while, or a guy you love to Skype with… Maybe I seem more special with some distance between us? Up close and personal the cracks and imperfections appear much more prominent and might come across as unrepairable and not worth the effort even as a friend. Maybe I'm like that fashion model you were lucky enough to meet at that party and you recognized from the magazine and you took home, but after having the best sex you ever had, found that there wasn't much to talk about because your lives were just too different and you were worlds apart.I caught an episode of "The Golden Girls," because the people who've been kind enough to put me up in their home, (as they don't want me living in my car and either getting murdered, or getting sick and dying from some illness caused by living in a car and not getting the care you need…) watch the show even though they've seen every one of them and have them on DVD… Anyway, one of the old broads had been writing love letters to a guy in prison and making all these promises to him, then one day he shows up and wants what was promised, but she has to backpedal and explain it was all just for the fantasy.Maybe it's the fantasy I like? That giddy feeling of knowing someone just on the surface before they start telling you about all the bad things that have happened to them, all the bad boyfriends and evil exes and child abusers and rapists that they have loved in their lives.Sometimes I feel like a sponge that absorbs all the bad things people tell me. It's like when I watched an episode of that show, "Monsters Inside Me" about all the different kinds of parasites that live, breed and kill you from the inside. After the show, I couldn't sleep! I was itching and scratching all night long. Then I suddenly had some flesh loving fungi start covering my body! I saw it, I felt it, it came true!I can hurt so bad from someone's plight, that I'm unable to function. I can shut down after seeing a traffic accident. I can read about a disaster in the news and I can't get out of bed. I see a mass layoff in the headlines and I can't look for work. Just can't do it.Then that rare occurrence where you get a job offer and it sounds like the greatest job in the world and you think, "This is a career, not a job, this won't even be work, because this is what I love to do!" However as the days go on and your pay is being held back two weeks, your insurance doesn't even start after 120 days, the commute is awful, you can't decorate your cubicle, the people you work with become suspect of you, gossip begins, you notice procedures make little sense, their way of working seems wrong, odd and strange and the glossy and glamorous sheen of the offer becomes faded and dirty, not to mention the actual pay when you finally get it (was it worth it?) and you begin thinking of continuing your job search because you look around at all the people you work with and they all kinda look alike and you wonder if you were hired because you look like them and you'd hate to be like them.It's not that you think you're better than anyone else, it's just that you think it'd be better not to be with any of these people, or anyone in person. My mom used to say this thing to me as a kid when I would go play with my friends, "Don't wear out your welcome!"That has stuck with me forever!I used to have friends that were strippers and each one of them told me their dad had left them when they were young and they couldn't believe that as awesome as they were, dad didn't want to be a part of their life. They obsessed over getting the love they needed from their dad! But there are dads that stick around and are good dads and their daughters don't think that much about them. Seems like you get more attention being absent! I had friends that were adopted by loving couples and all they thought about was finding their birth parents and getting the love they were denied. Not the love they were already receiving. Maybe the perfect relationship with me is the long distance one! Be my Skype lover! Marry me online! Date me in cyberspace! Fuck me on Facebook!You can even stay married! You can even have kids! You can even be in prison!Hug me from afar. Blow me kisses. Move near me and be neglected.
It used to be that I was so excited that it was Saturday, or the weekend, but now it's just another day where I try my best to avoid pain and suffering.I'm about to run out of painkillers, I'm overflowing with antibiotics, I'm sick of my life, so I'm thinking... I need to change my style!
I need a suit for a very special event, but it needs to be black and cool looking! Something like Perry Ellis, but the trick is I can't spend any money on it for this once in a lifetime experience. I suppose I could return it, but sometimes the tag is on the sleeve. I guess I could walk around with a coat draped over my arm.
Women have it so good at thrift stores! Men with cool clothes will wear them out before they end up at the thrift store. Sometimes, I do find nice vintage stuff, though.
Actually, I have so many fashion friends and retail buyers friends, I'm sure someone could find me a sample sale, or even a designer that may help me out!
My car is safely parked for a quick exit in the alley, my sneakers are off, my belt loosened, the top one on my button fly jeans is undone, my pistol is unholstered and resting within reach, her yearbook photo is tucked into the frame of the mirror, the washcloth is swollen with cool water and applied to my hot face, the lone candle that lights the room flickers in a breeze which I hope signals her arrival through my front door.
"Baby, you take me to such great heights. You make me high. You're my sweet drug, Jerry," she had whispered with hot breath on my ear just before she climbed off me and left for her mom's. That was the last time I saw her.
It isn't her.
Just a breeze. A warm breeze. Heat rising with the stench of the streets below.
I so want to get away. This town isn't doing it for me. I thought if I could hold her tight I could feel myself, but I'm so numb. I feel dead. Inside and out. I'm ready to blow this place. Get away from it all. It just wasn't in the cards. So I'm gonna blow down this house of cards.
Even though my body seems to be falling apart on me and I find myself dealing with severe pain, my imagination is growing and my dreams are so vivid and real. I know it may be the painkillers I'm taking. Probably is the drugs, come to think of it. I wish the good dreams, the sexy ones I sometimes have, could go on and fade out with happy endings, but they just end, or I wake up in the middle of a passionate kiss, or embrace, or like the one I just had, I was standing on a balcony of an old castle, now a hotel overlooking the ocean somewhere with my beautiful girl wrapped in the white top sheet from the bed as the wind blew causing quick peeks and flashes of her thin nude body hidden underneath. I was holding a glass of wine and she was looking deeply into my eyes like I was the one she had always wanted and she wasn't about to miss a minute of our time together. I passed the glass to her and the stone work on the balcony began to crumble. We tried desperately to get back in the room but the entire side of the old hotel was breaking loose and falling into the ocean far below. She fell, but I grabbed her sheet which unraveled from around her as she held the very corner in her hands as her nude body with legs kicking swung below me over the jagged rocks and violent surf that was crashing and waiting to engulf us in our fall. I held the end of the curtains in my other hand as I tried to get my feet on some part of the wall, but every time I got what I thought was sure footing, it would crumble like loose chalk. Above me I could see the rings holding the curtain on the rod was popping one by one and we would certainly fall to our death.
I woke up at about that point all hot and sweaty.
Now, in the dream there was plenty of awesome sex just before the collapse of the old hotel, why couldn't it just stayed a good sweet dream and not turn into a Roland Emmerich disaster film? Well, yes it's true, I did have to wake up and go to pee. I suppose that was the crashing surf. Sometimes I have to go pee so bad! Sometimes the dreams are amazingly sexy and I get such a huge erection that I wake up from the cold because the sheet has been lifted off my body.
I have had dreams where I couldn't get my erection to go down! No wait, that wasn't a dream... I did once dream it was so big that I had to go to the doctor and they did an MRI on it and it turned out there was a big brain inside! They at first thought it might be an absorbed twin or a tumor, but later believed my peenie was super-smart. I ended up taking it on talk shows and we even won a huge amount of money on Jeopardy and sexy smart girls all wanted to meet it and pose with it.
I'd like to wake up from a great sexy dream without having any trauma or going into cardiac arrest! Please tell me how to do that!
Spent last night experiencing better dreams through pharmaceuticals!
I dreamed there was a group of people building gardens on old ships and preparing to save the world's various seeds. I was doing a documentary on them and as I was onboard with the crew as the world began flooding! It was like a disaster movie, but the seeds were saved! I think I know what this dream mean, but I'm too shy to even mention my analysis.
I will just say these keywords from the numerous stand out images from the dream, "Seeds" and "Seamen" possibly, "Semen" and I'll leave it up to you to figure out how my mind works with my current situation.
I could use some more sleep! I could sleep forever, I think! I wish some other entity would take over this body while I sleep, I feel they may make better use of it and may even repair it for me. I may be a fungus that once dreamed it was a man.
I just undressed completely, fully nude, under bright lights, in front of two girls, one with braces and they put their hands all over me. If I hadn't been doped up I would have been nervous. It seems to me nurses are looking younger and younger. The doctor took some scrapings of my poor flesh and looked under a microscope. He said it wasn't sexually transmitted, it's fungal, possibly started by a heat rash, became a yeast infection and might possibly be changing into staph... I'm on such strong antibiotics that I thought I was a vampire, because when sunlight hits my skin, I feel searing pain. He told me it was the medication I'm taking to kill the fungus that is making me light sensitive, but not to worry I won't burst into flames in sunlight.
The pain is awful and every morning I have to peel the underwear from my body due to the blood that has oozed from my raw flesh and has dried to the fabric over night. OUCH! Thank goodness I'm on awesome painkillers, but it's such a waste when I'm in serious pain! I've never had anything like this! What did I ever do to deserve this? I am the cleanest boy I know! Now I'm melting!
I hate to sleep while driving! It's the worst feeling! Last night while driving I came upon 3 deer on the side of the road. Beautiful! I was worried one might dart out, so I slowed down and got in the farthest lane. Then about 7 miles down the road I come up to another deer standing smack dab in the middle of the road! I had to come to a stop and honk a few times before it jumped out of the way. I was really worried because I could see in the rear view mirror there was a big truck coming down the hill.
In a very dark wooded empty stretch of highway, I was looking up at the sky trying to see any meteors or UFOs when I faintly saw something up ahead. I got closer. Then in my headlights I could see a girl in a dress walking down the center lane. I was in the right lane and she looked back over her shoulder and moved over to the left lane as I passed by. The weeds along the road were high and unmowed, so that's why I imagine she was walking in the road. My heart was racing cause I'm not used to seeing people just walking in the road at that hour, in the dark. Then I thought about the ghost girl post I wrote about the other day! Then I got a chill up my spine! I couldn't help but spend the rest of my drive thinking about why she was out walking. Was she running away from an abusive military husband? Was she a stripper at a local bar that quit her job and her car broke down? Was she a babysitter that had been kidnapped but escaped by kicking out a back window and jumping out of the moving car? Was she insane? Was she hitching a ride with truckers? Was she a vampire? Was she there because I posted the thing about ghost girls on the road on my previous post? Do things I sometimes write about come true? Is this blog like a wishing well? If I were to write about me winning millions of dollars in a super lotto would it come true? Please let this be the case!
Last night a young man who I've known now for a few weeks approached me and said, "Can I talk to you?"
I allowed him. He was quiet and a bit nervous and as I've pointed out to you before, people just love to tell me their private thoughts and expose their most intimate details, so he begins with, "I feel like I can talk to you, because you're an atheist…" Don't know where he got this idea, I never said anything to him, but it was like he was saying, "You look to be intelligent, so I assume you're smart enough to not believe in God!" He went on to confess to me that his wife is very religious and that he has always doubted the things his church has told him. He was raised in it and played along because it pleased his mother, then his wife, but he could no longer act the fool and lie about his true feelings. Over a dinner he told his wife he didn't believe in Hell or the Devil. His poor wife began having heart palpitations. She became so upset she got on the phone and called his father to talk some sense into him, but after talking with his dad at length, his father opened up and said, "I understand. I've been trying to please your mother for years. Just doing what she told me, because it was easier to say 'I believed' than to have all these folks hammer away at me and shunning me if I stood my ground." He told me it was the best conversation he has ever had with his father! They truly bonded! He had tears in his eyes as he told me this. His voice was barely a whisper. "Jerry, I feel I can tell you anything. Thank you." Then I had a dream that I had figured out a system to quickly write a book. It involved ten stacks of cards each with a different word and as I flipped over each card an idea for a chapter would be revealed. I began writing these thin books that I thought would be quick sells. They all seemed to deal with arcane and forgotten occult knowledge that I was just making up. These books began selling and people would come up to me telling me how their lives had been changed by my books. They had no idea it was all bullshit. I was just making them all up. I felt guilty making all this money and grew greatly depressed over the fraud and checked into a sleazy hotel with a flickering red neon sign outside my window as rain pelted it, so I could kill myself. As I opened my suitcase, I saw that it held only one item, a pistol. I sat on the foot of the bed wondering if I should call any loved ones, or just let them find out later. I put the gun to the side of my head and suddenly became aware of a presence in the room. In the corner was a tall thin beautiful woman in white who was my angel. She said, "Jerry, do you really think you wrote those books on your own? Do you really think you were randomly picking the right words? What a sweet sweet baby you are, Jerry." And with that I woke up.
I have always loved this old ghost story! As you know, I've been working on a documentary about ghost stories from the South. I had heard this one of the Alabama State Trooper putting two wet cheerleaders in the back of the cruiser and calling their parents. The father became irate at the cop because he thought it was a prank. He told the trooper the girls died 10 years earlier and when the cop turned around and looked in the backseat, the girls were gone! My friend, Marilyn Kate told me a good local story to her neck of the woods. "Truck drivers on 231 have reported pulling over to pick them up, the girls get in the cab, and when the truck drivers ask them where they're heading, they disappear. It's rumored that there's a highway patrol dashcam recording of the the hitchhiking ghosts. This story has always freaked me out." That is such a good one! I was just talking with Jessica about the kid in the 60s that drove that girl home from the prom and she had said she had gone to his high school before and he walked her to her front door and said goodnight and when he got home he found that she had left her sweater in the car. So he was gonna take it to her the next day, but when he finally found her house it was dilapidated and abandoned. He was carrying the sweater in his hand and when he looked down at it, it was old, rotten and covered in spiders. Dang! Jessica said, "I like the one about the girl who said she needed a ride home from a dance. She's cold so the young man loans her his jacket. He drops her off that night, only to remember the next day about his jacket. When he returns to the house, he knocks on the door. An old lady answers and he tells her of the girl he drove home last night who took his jacket. The lady said her daughter died in a car accident on her way home from a dance 30 years earlier! He never did get his jacket back." My friend, Tim Lucas sent me this song and said, "You're wrong, son. You weren't with my daughter..." Brrrrr! My mom used to have some great ghost stories! I wish I had recorded her because those stories are lost now. We should always spend time telling each other stories and keep passing them on. I wish we all could get together on Halloween and sit around a campfire, or front porch and tell each other scary stories. Jessica said, "Obviously this story started when some kid lost his jacket and had to come up with some kind of excuse." "Mom, that's why my clothes are dirty, I was in the cemetery with a ghost! I wasn't having unprotected teen sex, I swear!" I said. Jessica said, "And don't forget "Teen Angel" - what kind of ghost did she turn out to be? Did she wander the railroad tracks looking for her boyfriend's ring, or did she just haunt him personally for being such a bad driver?" I loved this film with Orson Welles telling a great ghost story! I watched it all alone one night and must say, I was scare, so scared in fact I had to not only pull the blanket up to my chin but I had to put my pants and shoes on in case I had to run out of the old creepy house I lived in! What this with a friend! I wish I was that friend!
I was thinking of running an advertisement like this and have lonely gals send $1 to meet me, but then I would only be disappointed that no money was coming in. There must be some way for me to cash in on my body! I gave up on the medical experiments and plasma donations! When I was younger, I met this French woman back in Dallas who was building a private cabaret for women and wanted me to be one of the erotic dancers, I poo-pooed the idea at first! However, these old wealthy ladies could barely see in the dim light of the club and the money came and came and came, I was doing so good she said in her thick accent, "Jerry, you will always please the woman. You know what the woman wants. You make her beg, then give it to her!"
Well, the conditions need to be right for me to make money this way on a private basis. There needs to be proper music playing. There needs to be very dim lighting in the room. And there needs to be some great wine laced with Rohypnol. Then I can deliver the goods and collect the cash! But let's be honest for a second, I'm not all about being a whore, I have feelings, too! I want to please! I want to be loved! I want to be held! But baby's got bills and some mommy needs to help me out, cause a good time doesn't come cheap. I bring the show and what a show it is! I'll climb up on a table, maybe a sturdy nightstand next to the old lady's bed, do my suggestive poses, remove my garments, shake my "boy business" all the while she's below me looking up at my strong muscular frame, thinking that soon I will sweep her up in my thick arms and press my hot well endowed body against hers, tear her clothes free of her flesh and as she's imagining what's about to come, the Rohypnol kicks in and she collapses to the bed! I give her what she needs, because she's old and tired! She needs her rest! It's not just old ladies that seem to dig what I got hiding, either. Had a college student in a cafe ask me, "Has anyone ever said you look a lot like Jason Hawes from Ghost Hunters?" irritated by the constant comparison, I sighed and replied, "I don't see it at all and I hate that people think I look like him!" Then she turned it all around with, "Oh, I think he's one sexy guy!" I wish I could think of a blog post here that would inspire you to comment, to write me, make you laugh out loud, make you feel good, arouse you, make you think, make you wish you were mine, imagine for a moment that I did just that! Close your eyes and think about how wonderful the world is with us in it right now at this very moment and how our lives are better because we know each other! Can you really read with your eyes closed? Thanks, Jerry You must visit: http://www.jerrylentz.com/ http://tinyurl.com/yb885xt http://www.facebook.com/jerrylentz http://www.jerrylentz.com/podcast/podcast.xml
Got some great drugs from my new doctor that are sure to tip any work related drug test into the positive. I'm not a drug user per se, but I think with what I have to put up with in my life I deserve a wee bit of the chemical romance.You know that thing where people talk about seeing one set of footprints in the sand after they got a piggy back ride from Jesus? Well, Tramadol is my copilot!I can't believe I got a prescription to it! Just last night I saw a news report about a guy that was taking 50 of them a day. One alone is enough for me. One Tramadol for at least 2 hours is perfect for me. In fact, it completes me. It had me at "Hello!"Maybe it wasn't the best way to swallow my drugs last night, but I downed the palmful of pills with a cup of apple cider vinegar. Why? Because I'm a real man! Make no mistake about that, doll. A real man can do crap like that.I know what you're thinking, is it, "Jerry, are you typing this while the Tramadol is coursing through your veins?"Or, "Jerry, do you think my breasts look too big in this photo?"Well the answer is "Yes!"
Just got back from the Doctor! My condition has grown worse! No insurance and no free clinic. However, thanks to a very sweet friend I was able to see a doctor who upon having me remove my undies and examine my "boy business" said, "I have to ask you this; Have you had anal sex?" I answered proudly then said, " Oh wait...... You mean with a man, right?" Cause he's not asking me about cornholing a woman is he?
Whatever happened to "Don't ask and don't tell?" Well, I guess when you're playing Doctor...Wait a minute! Who put the Black and Decker Power Sander in the shower where my AXE Detailer used to be???You have to admit the AXE Detailer rocks!
Sometimes I feel trapped in my life, but I'm so glad I'm not a trapped miner! I just know if I was one of those miners, I'd somehow be the last one out, but by then I would have stuffed myself with the emergency food they sent down and then I'd be too fat to get pulled up the shaft.
Have gone without sleep for 2 days now. Miserable. But I had a great night of food and cake at a friend's sister's B'Day Party! I even had the Hashbrown Casserole at Cracker Barrel... Jesus, that shit was awesome!Hashbrown for my rash 'round!
The painkillers are taking affect! I am supposed to be resting and immobile as the lotion and drugs do their magic, but sleeping seems like such a waste of good drugs and lotion!
Here I am looking smart! Yet, I'm using this public bathroom to wash up, shave, make calls, wash socks and undies, brush my teeth and use the toilet. If I was so smart, how did I end up with this life and not one of a young internet billionaire?
Well, I love the NASA shirt that my very smart friend Jessica bought for me at a thrift store for a dollar! Today, I was even was asked if I was an astronaut. "Actually, I am a Supernaut!" I promptly answered.
There was a few dollars I saved up for food that I decided to use on a bottle of local pure wildflower honey and a bottle of natural apple cider vinegar that I hope by drinking 2 or 3 times daily will help rid me of my various ailments. Since I have no health insurance and no money to spare for medicine, this just has to work! Failure is not an option!
Mixing up the drink with half honey and half vinegar in some water, I was reminded of my mother fixing it up for me as a child. It tasted better when she gave it to me. I miss her so much. There are so many things I need to tell her. So many things I need to hear her say. So many questions I have, and just hearing her answers or opinions or advice could change my life. I try to imagine her saying the things I want to hear, but it doesn't ring true. My imagination isn't strong enough. Her face fades away as I close my eyes and strain to pull her image back.
I want to show her my friends. I want her to meet the ones she never met and see how the ones she had have grown and changed.
I want her to see the young girl I said I was going to marry over 25 years ago and meet the young daughters she now has and what an amazing woman she has become.
I want her to hold me in a hug and tell me everything is going to be okay, like she used to do.
The sweet honey taste mixed with the vinegar tart taste, together makes me think of life. The good and the bad. The mix of the two. The swirl of life. The cycle. The waves.
I close my eyes and imagine I am small and safely lodged and relaxed deep inside a drop of wild honey as the apple cider vinegar washes all around my warm globe of liquid brass unable to penetrate the thick natural sweetness. I will not resist life. I will let it wash over me. I will surrender to it. I will see it, touch it, taste it, feel it and let it go.
…it happens to me a lot. I shoot my mouth off when I should have bit my tongue and kept my pie-hole shut. Sometimes I just can't let it slide. Sometimes someone keeps heckling me and picking on me and mocking me, so it builds and builds inside me until the walls bulge and crack and warp, then I burst and unleash a comeback that devastates and destroys the bully.Then silence from all around. Jaws hang unhinged and mouths fall ajar. Eyes dart back and forth between me and the quivering mass of lifeless tissue as the tears begin streaming. Suddenly a crowd gathers around hugging and caressing the brute as they murmur in my direction, "How could you?""What were you thinking?""How could you talk to a woman like that?""She's just a child!"Why do some women think it's okay to humiliate and torment a man, but feel it offensive if he responds to it? Why do people come to her rescue when they themselves have been victimized by this bully? When will the meek inherit the Earth?I have a lot of shit going on in my life and I ain't got time to deal with cruel people! I have recently been dealing with the worst allergic reaction to some kind of atmospheric particle or alien pathogen. My breathing has severely been compromised as well as my vision and thinking.Then, possibly due to the heat and the change in weather, I have developed a rash on my bottom. It's like diaper rash. Bumps, blisters, redness, dry skin, itchiness. Thanks to a friend, I began using A&D Ointment to no avail. However, it has made my skin soft and supple all around the rash. I have begun to apply it to my face and have noticed a vast improvement to my looks. If you like a greasy look with a strong slightly unpleasant aroma, I recommend this highly.Unable to tell any change in my butt rash, I did what anyone needing medical treatment would do, without having any health insurance, that is. I consulted WebMD and various online medical forums.Put a mirror on the floor, removed all my undergarments and then squatted over it to get a better view of the situation. I either stepped on the mirror or the image in the reflection was just too much for any mirror to take, because it shattered. Shattered into so many pieces it looked like glitter on the floor.Yet, with the brief and disgusting image lodged forever in my mind like a bullet, I was fully equipped to review the symptoms provided by those who also found themselves suffering from similar afflictions and seek a cure buried deep in the posted conjecture supplied by the online quacks. It seems I might have some kind of yeast rash! I appear to be producing yeast. Yeast? Outta my ASS? Am I making beer? Am I baking bread? It's certainly hot enough to do that in the oven down there. Is that where, "pinching a loaf" comes from?Another friend of mine is the host of a country music morning radio show and he heard a caller say the cure for many allergies and ailments was to drink pickle juice! The caller even did a comparison study using calamine lotion on one affected area of poison ivy and pickle juice on another and the pickle juice won!He suggested I try the pickle juice on my ass. I began to wonder how I would do it. Maybe I could drain pickle juice from enough jars to fill a small tub, strip down and lower my bare bottom down into it and sit for a while. I imagine my own pickle would then smell like a pickle after extended use of the pickle bath. I would like to know a girl that loves pickles. I wonder if she likes sweet baby girckens, or kosher? Maybe if she liked it a lot, the stork from Vlasic would show up with a lil' baby.Isn't pickle juice mainly vinegar? Isn't that a main ingredient in a douche? Am I a douche? Really?Completely humiliated I journey to WalMart to do as directed by the online snake-oil salesmen and buy Monistat 7 in the feminine pussy department where douches and tampons sit on shelves and look out at me in blank stares, confused looks and bland packaging.I read the directions. It says, "…yeast infections could be a sign that you are pregnant or have been exposed to the human immunodeficiency virus (HIV) that causes AIDS." Sure hope I'm pregnant!As if I didn't already feel like a pussy, the directions continue, "…squeeze a small amount of cream around the area of your vagina…" So completely freaked out about the AIDS mention, I unzip my pants, drop my panties and apply a handful of cream to my vagina, er, I mean, anus. It feels good and soothing and it really is like a cool dip in a lagoon on a tropically warm day. My ass feels so great, I wish you could feel it! I really, really do! Just when I'm about to take the Nestea Iced Tea Plunge backwards into a pool in the desert… My bliss is rudely interrupted by a female voice in a thick Southern accent from behind me."Sir? Please don't do that in the aisle. Take it home and do that in the privacy of your own home. I never thought I'd say this, but it's too weird a sight, even for WalMart."
If you love James Dean, his time, his acting, his legacy... This American Masters documentary is what you'll want to watch. I loved it! Great pictures and interviews!
I believe I have some sort of sleep disorder. I'm constantly popping awake. I'm always somewhat tired. I never feel rested. It's like it builds up and then one day I just collapse and sleep for a whole day and catch up. My dreams are so vivid and real. Sometimes I have memories of past dreams that I will get confused with real events. They just seemed so real that I momentarily believed them to be fact. I have flying dreams. I have the late for a test dream. I have the meeting my guardian angel dream. I have the falling from a great height dream. I have the monster chasing me and trying to kill me dream. I have the I can move objects with the power of my mind dream. They all seem just as real as real life.
Showed up last night for what I thought was just an ordinary date with the most extraordinary girl, so I was just wearing jeans and a tshirt, but when she answered the door she was decked out like a supermodel. I'll be honest, I didn't feel bad about it at first, I didn't feel anything at all, because when I saw her face, her makeup, her hair, her skirt, her top, her Gucci shoes, her nails... I had gone completely retarded. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen! I couldn't speak. I couldn't move. I know I wasn't breathing because I got lightheaded and dizzy.
Then it slowly sank in that I was probably not a very good sight to see.
I need to start thinking about collecting a better wardrobe. Soon as the money starts rolling in I will get back into fashion and stop looking so much like a hobo.
Been reading these horrible stories of people getting lost in the desert and dying. It's an awful thought to be starving or needing water. Heat. Freezing cold. No wifi.Still, I love getting lost. The safe kinda lost. Getting lost in thought. Lost in a good book. Lost in learning something new. It can be like a lil' mystery. Gotta dig your way out.I used to love getting out and driving around LA, walking in NYC, riding a cable car in SF, taking a handsome cab around London, all without a destination. Get lost and try and find my way back. I loved having to stop and ask someone for directions. You meet people you wouldn't meet otherwise.There's a girl I'm very fond of. You might know her. I can get lost just staring at her face. I try not to make it so obvious. Try not to scare her. Don't want to seem creepy. I love her skin. Her eyes. Her hair. Her mind.The bad part, and it's me, is that when she's talking to me, I try and take advantage of this opportunity to be able to look at her for some amount of time without worry, however, I get lost thinking about her that I completely miss what she's saying. I hate that! I know that must be annoying. I nod my head as though I'm listening. Say things like, "Hmm…" and "Really?" and "I see." All of these sometimes work. I'll even use combinations, "Hmm, really? I see." Then she'll ask me something and I'll only hear how the inflection tilts up at the end of the question without actually knowing what she just said, so I'll go, "Huh, ya know what? I think you cut out for a bit. Can you say that again?""What? We're not talking on a cellphone! I'm right here." I'll panic and scramble to quickly get a deflecting change of subject, "Oh, I know you're right here, cause you smell fantastic! Is that Gwen Stephani you're wearing? And where are those new shoes you were telling me about? Oh, look… Baby, I'm so sorry, I just got so into you, because you're so amazingly beautiful, I lost my train of thought."
As you know, I've been creating some TV show ideas and am hopeful to be getting them on the air in the next few months. One idea I've very proud of is a wrestling show with a horror theme. Thank you! I know, it is brilliant! I am talking to possible staff, salespeople and meeting with local wrestlers to get their input. I think it could be an awesome show here in the South!
When you were a kid, who was your favorite wrestler?
Some other thoughts that have been kicking around my noggin that I've recently posted on my Facebook profile to great acclaim. I hope you visit and add me as a friend for all the fun and excitement that happens there!
Vultures sure look graceful and majestic when soaring in the air, but ugly when they are picking at the bloody carcass of roadkill while refusing to move out of the way of your approaching car.
Have you ever noticed old people that are hard of hearing, hear just the things that end up annoying the cranky bastards?
Have you ever heard of anyone that had been making love and they accidentally screamed out their dog's name instead of yours... I mean, instead of their lover's name?
The South sure loves it's political corruption. I would love to someday be in the seemingly powerful and important position to be offered a bribe.
Never trust the cap to be leak proof when you put your bottle of KY Jelly in your backpack!
I sure love leaving my Pop-Tarts on the dashboard so that they'll be toasty warm when I'm ready for them!
Today I went to have dinner with some friends, but first ended up hanging out at a High School waiting in line with hundreds of people to purchase caps and gowns for graduation. It seemed like such a scam. The price. The fact you have to purchase them from one company. Something else and I forget the other parts that made me think this all was just some money making scheme for the school.
There is a young server at a burger place I frequent who is still in school and she has the most amazing memory for knowing what I want to eat. I asked if her grades in school are great as a result of her mental recall and she said she would study for the test, then take the test, do well, then forget everything she memorized.
Eating lunch with a friend who was kind enough to buy it for me as part of a celebration of some great good fortune that has just happened to me, we were chatting with another server I really dig and I actually had her laughing so hard, she fell to the floor and had tears in her eyes. People thought she was having a seizure.
She was telling us about a guy she's dating. She likes him being big and tall. She said she's grown tired of young guys who can have sex non-stop for hours. She loves her man getting tired after reaching his goal and falling asleep.
I somehow remembered a story I've told before, but if you've read it feel free to skip this paragraph. Once, I had dinner with a girl at a great BBQ joint and I took her home and after talking we ended up in the bedroom, but as we were getting seriously hot and being the clean germaphobe that I am, I reached into my pocket to get out my condom, yet I didn't want to ruin the mood fussing with the crinkly wrapper, so I turned down the lights and continued to get my meat in the bag, however try as I might I couldn't figure out what was wrong, it was loose and wet and cold and messy...
So I turned the light back on and instead of a condom, it was a wet nap moist towelette from the BBQ place!
It's like I can't keep my tentacles off of you! You just feel so good! I want to slip and slide all over you! Sometimes I have just been with you and as I'm leaving, I want to turn back and hold you some more. I write to you, I talk to you, I take pictures of you, I shoot video of you... It's never enough!An old friend who is now a rather famous and funny motivational speaker with a current tour through the UK emailed me saying how I need to get my shit together and create a package for a seminar and start touring a show about my life and the changes I'm going through. She said, "Jerry, you could make really some big money! You have the stories. You have the personality. You are so lovable and humorous and smart. I know bloody well they will eat you up!"Hmm...Is it really possible? Do I want to do something like that? Could I make it artistic and worthwhile to me as well as an audience?
I dreamed I went to the movies to see "Titanic" in 3D with a date and there was a preview of "The Jessica Rabbit Story" with Angelina Jolie and James Gandolfini. I know it sounds silly, but in my dream it was amazing! It was like "The Godfather" and "Chicago" and "Public Enemies" all rolled up into one.Sometimes my dreams are so vivid that it's depressing when I wake up to my dingy colored life. I need some excitement! I want my own Jessica Rabbit! If I tried hard enough, I bet I could will one into my life! Then I'd take her to see "Titanic in 3D" with me, or go see all the "Star Wars in 3D!"Well, maybe that wouldn't be all that exciting. I think I need to generate the excitement. I can't let the movies do it for me, I need some of that thrill in my life. But what is thrilling to me? Kissing, making out, having someone sing to me, talking, asking about someones hopes and dreams, learning new stuff about someone you think you already know, loving someone, feeling loved in return... Throw a few car chases in there and you got a thrilling story!
I wish I was driving some girl crazy! But no, I'm just driving.
My poor lil' Honda is getting old. One headlight went out. It sounds like an old sewing machine when it idles. It's loud inside. It shimmies when you near the top speed of 45mph. The chrome is falling off. The visors are disintegrating. The carpeting is ripped and as full of holes as a favorite old pair of underwear I had that snagged on a girl's bra in the washer. I hate washing my clothes with other peoples stuff. Cooties!
It's hard to make out in my beat up car. I've tried. I even found a Drive-In Theatre!
Anyway, I hope my car survives! If my car broke down now, I'd be in serious trouble!
I need a new car! My friend, Jerome loves everything Elvis, knows stuff about him, performs as an Elvis tribute artist all over the country and tells me how kind Elvis was with giving away his cars to strangers and stuff. Why can't I run into a sweet guy like Elvis, so he can get me a new car?
Did you see that guy that won millions in a lotto, then later won another lotto? He won the lotto twice!
Why can't the big money come to me? I think I deserve it as much as almost anyone else. I'd do good things with it once I knew my needs for the rest of my life were taken care of. I have other people besides myself to think about, too. I used to fantasize that some wealthy person would stumble onto this blog and read it and realize that I was the one person that would benefit the wealth they decided to bestow upon me.
Still homeless, but many friends have come to the rescue by giving a few nights here and there to sleep, shower, wash clothes and today help with car repairs. Hope I can get a place soon because I imagine I'm wearing out my welcome. Even though I'm working, the money hasn't started rolling in yet and that first month, last month, utility deposit, security deposit, credit check application fee... Well, that will require some kinda nest egg that hasn't been acquired yet.
While staying with friends I try to make myself useful by giving massages, voicing commercials, writing copy, shooting glamorous photos and videos for them. I shot this photo of Jessica. It's just a small sampling of a much larger collection of photos and videos I've done of her. She made the best cupcakes I've ever had last night, then tonight she made the best grilled cheese sandwich I've ever had using mozzarella!
Ever find you can't sleep because you fear that you will start snoring and everyone will hear you and then later ridicule you? I'm going through that now as I have been staying with various people. I can't seem to get enough rest because of my fear of snoring.
October 1st, already? What possibilities this month holds for fun! What shall we do? I would love to have my own place so I could decorate it for Halloween, or so I could sleep alone without worrying about disturbing anyone.
