How cool....
Those two Biff Rose albums are IN MY HAND, not Dad's shed. Excellent! Except, I still don't have a frickin' turntable...lol. I'm just happy to know they're safe. Them and Rick Springfields 'Rock of Life' album...a kick-ASS album, by the way.
I was tryin' to find my electric 'coffee-cup-keep-warm' -er in a closet, when I found Biff and Rick. And, my buddy Andy. It's a poem I wrote (!) for him right before he died. I rarely ever write poems or draw, but when I do, I do alright. I did REAL good with this poem, if not for the prose, for the timing. Andy had a copy in his wallet when he (was murdered by an inattentive asshole driving a bigtruck) died.
9*23*57-----7*24*93 The Gentleman Cowboy
His name is Andy.
Sometimes, it's Dru.
Depends on if he knows you
Or even wants to. He's the Gentleman Cowboy
With a huge heart of gold.
So, don't go believing
All you've been told. He's seen hard times.
Wasn't dealt many aces.
The life that he's lived
Has left it traces. But look at the man,
With more than your eyes.
Maybe you'll see
Just how hard he tries. If you give him a chance
You'll see as I do
He's one helluva man
Despite all he's been through. Don't judge him too harshly.
In fact, don't judge him a bit.
He's the livin' definition
Of the phrase 'True Grit'. The next time you see him,
Or hear his name spoken,
Just remember the man
Whose heart has been broken. He's a cowboy first,
Yet a Gentleman, too.
He's an awesome creation,
This man, Andy, called Dru. I tried to see if there were any pictures of Andy on here anywhere. Nope. Found all kindsa shit about his fucknuts brother GRANT HARRIS and the Cowtown Rodeo back in Jersey. Grant is way more concered with making sure his retarded dog gets press than ever admitting Andy is his brother. What an asshole. When I was a kid (around 5) and first started going to Cowtown, I fell in love with Grant, too. He was GORGEOUS and on horseback. I grew up hearing some wild-assed stories about his brother, Andy...
Then...when I was 30, I met Andy (again) and learned to dislike Grant. Then, Andy died and, after chasing Grant all over half of New Jersey trying to tell him what Andy had asked me to tell him before he died AND having to give back the saddle Andy gave me, I learned to outright despise that rich, crack-headed assnugget. GRANT HARRIS CAN KISS MY ASS! There. I hope that gets 'Google-crawled' and shows up first under his name. If I need to do more to make that happen, sopmeone let me know, okay? I cannot stand that pretentious, can't-remember-Andy-fer-shit jerkoff. Anyway...if ya wanna get an idea of who I'm pukin' about, just look up 'Grant Harris', 'Cowtown Rodeo', 'Harris Family Cowtown Rodeo' or any combination thereof. I ain't linkin' the assholes because they do not even mention ANDY!!!!!
ANDY HARRIS, ANDY HARRIS, ANDY HARRIS!!!!!! He was yer only brother, you pumpkin-headed fuck! God, Grant...you are EXACTLY like yer father...cold, arrogant PRICKS, both of ya. At Andy's funeral (where you even THERE, Grant?), your Dad said to me "I had no idea..." I looked him right in the eye and said "We know you didn't." Andy knew it and so did I. None of you 'moneyed' Harris's wanted to know Andy at all, did you? You were the firstborn, hence the only one who counted. You know it as well as Andy did. You got everything, he got shit. You live on the 'family ranch', he was living in a bullrider's BASEMENT when he died. You dick. To this day, the ONLY thing you've ever done that has to do with Andy was that lame-assed, ugly calender you had made with him and your Grandpop, Stoney, on it. What a fuckin' lowlife you are. Yeah, you have the money, but, man, you have no heart at all. You got the cash and the land, Andy had heart and soul and love. Just because it was buried under years of hurt, rage, pain and having to eat your shit, doesn't mean it wasn't worth diggin' for. Andy was a MAN. You, Sir, are a fuckin' pansy. You've had it soft all yer life, everything just handed to ya. Of course you're doing good. You oughta be....Jesus. Andy not only survived, he LIVED without benefit of Daddy's money.
I just wish I could email this to you. I really want to know that you KNOW these things. In spite of all you do to deny him, Andy is the legend now and yer still the pampered 'nancy-boy'. Okay? Good. Whew. Sorry y'all. I just got pissed there for a few. Grant "Asshole" Harris has had that effect on me for...oh, about 10 years, now. This is the first time I've ever really let it go like that. I just WISH I could say it all right in his face. I wanna see hurt in his eyes. Then I'll know he knows. But, ya know what? Fuck him if he doesn't know or want to. Not knowing his own brother at least as well as I do, if not better, is HIS loss.
And no, there was never a physical relationship between Andy and I. Beyond holding him while he cried in my arms about all this stuff. I knew OF Andy my whole life. He was usually in Texas or someplace, rodeo-ing. All the interaction between us happened in about a month or six weeks.
I had run into him in the Alloway Village Inn one night. We talked forever. That was the first time he cried on me. Yeah, the first night we really, really met and realized we knew each other, he wound up crying. That's how bad it hurt him. 'It" being his entire life and growing up in Grant (the pussy's) shadow. When their Grandpop, Stoney, died a week or so later, I went to his funeral. Andy was standing in the back, by himself, next to the Grandfather clock in Layton's funeral home. The whole rest of the family was up front, in the first row, like they were supposed to be. There was no place (chair) there for Andy. After I did the walk-by, I went and stood behind Andy, to his right. Without even looking, he reached back and grasped my hand. He didn't let go. I went with Andy to the graveside and to the reception afterwards. From that day, til Andy himself was killed about 4 or 5 weeks later, we talked or saw each other every day. That was easy to do, because he was working on the A.C.E. river dike right up the road from where I was living. I spent A LOT of time riding his bulldozer, talking. I was in a relationship at the time and Andy knew Tony and vice versa. But, Tony or not, there was something....'home' about Andy. An immediate comfort level ya just don't find every day. We mentioned sex once and Andy said he'd rather not take the chance on messing up the better thing we had by involving sex, at least while I wasn't single. We did like each other waaay too much to let it be just sex. (Thank God....lol) I wasn't single again til after he died. But...I still got the very best Andy Harris there ever was. He knew. He knew he was gonna die. The things he did in the last week of his life leave no doubt that he knew his end was near.
I blamed myself for so long when he died. I felt like I could have changed that. I was looking for him the night it happened. I even went to the right bar. But, I didn't see his pickup in the parking lot, so didn't go in. I should have. He was there on his bike. (He only lived around the corner....) Anyway, he left the bar, got his truck and was on his way 'down the shore' to see Slayer, a local South Jersey band that now goes by the name "Last Call". They're a Southern Fried Rock band that totally kicks ass. (They were still Slayer then and these days, the guitar player, Dave, plays background shit at the rodeos at Cowtown....)
Anyway, on his way there, a truckdriver missed a 'Junction' sign, a "Stop Ahead" sign and the "STOP" sign itself and managed to get Andy's truck wedged under the back wheels of his trailer, dragging him sideways up the road for about a quarter mile, killing him and Beth, the girl who was with him. She was Jimmy Lee Walker's girlfriend. (It was all good. The only reason Jimmy and others weren't with them was having to work in the morning and shit.)
I'll never forget seeing that headline...Andy...killed. Jesus. It still stabs me in the heart like a knife.
Ten years. Man. It doesn't feel like it's been ten years. On the other hand, it feels like it's been a hundred since I've seen Andy.
I got things from him, in that brief time, that I still use today. Balls, courage, Stevie Ray Vaughan....lol. Yeah, I first learned of SRV from Andy. He had him on a tape he had made of his favorite songs. One side was SRV and Roy Orbison, the other was Marty Robbins. Andy and I listened to the Marty-side on the way from Stoney's funeral to the graveside.
I listened to the SRV side as I went from Andy's funeral to his graveside. This was, of course, after I had dug the tape and a few other random things out of the twisted hulk of metal that had been his truck. I have pictures, too. Someday, when I ever get to a place where they put pictures on discs that you can then put on here, they'll be on there, too. If I can find that calendar Grant (pussy-boy) put out, I'll get Andy on here, too. I know I've got about 10 of 'em around here, somewhere. I'll find 'em. Well, anyway.... I'm watching yet another self-made tape. This one has an excellent, true story-movie called "Deadly Relations" on it. Followed by a whole buncha "I love the 70's" shows. Hal Sparks is completely adorable. And funny. Hell, I've even been watching the "I love the 80's" ones just because of him and I DO NOT love the 80's. Matter fact, musically, with the advent of techno-pop and rap and all that GARBAGE, I pretty much HATED the 80's. Not to mention all the people I loved who died on me and the rest of it. I'm at 60's and 70's chick. I disavow both the 80's and 90's.
I kinda like the 2000's, though. Eric finally showed up and all, ya know? I found blogging and so far, the 2000's don't suck AS BAD. They're far from perfect, but at least I don't mind being alive quite so much. Altho, it does still utterly piss me off and defeat me at times. (lol) Kinda conflicted, ain't I? Alrighty, then, off to the 'library' with me....Yes, even with all the shit I just dumped here, I'm still full of it....(for another few minutes, anyway....lol) I shall return.
Peace.
Comments
1
that was so good....
Posted by: loola at January 17, 2004 10:01 PM (fR9Ne)
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