California Dreamin’ – 1982 to 1984 – Lenore – She Who Comes Bearing Gifts

This girl I worked with asked if I would meet her friend for a date. I’m always apprehensive about these sort of things. But I had a great work relationship with my friend at work. So I took the friend’s number and called her. We chatted on the phone a few times. One topic of conversation was me always eating Pringles potato chips when we were on the phone. One of my bandmates worked at a supermarket, and we would clip a few items occasionally for his poor bandmates.  (this becomes relevant later). She seemed like someone I’d enjoy spending time with, so we decided to meet for dinner.

I was excited to meet. In hindsight, there were a few warning signs that this might not turn out well for me.

1. In one phone conversation, the topic of butt size came up, and she said something to the effect of, “don’t be scared by how big mine is.”

2. When discussing our dinner date, she said, “You have to promise me that no matter what, we’ll meet again after our date, even if it doesn’t work out, we can have drinks and laugh about it.”

3. When she was describing how I’d recognize her outside the restaurant, she said, “I drive a purple Camaro.”

Being young and naive, I didn’t think much of it all, and arrived at the restaurant that evening with an open mind. How soon things changed. After waiting outside a few minutes, up pulls a purple Camaro convertible. If you’ve ever seen the movie Friday, where Smokey gets set up with “Janet Jackson”, you know what comes next. Back then I weighed about 118 lbs. and am 5’9″. That’s a lean build. This girl had at least 50 lbs. on me, if not more. “HEYYYYY!!!” She greeted me, and I did my best not to look scared to death.

In addition to her purse, she was carrying a brown paper bag. I didn’t really want to know what might be inside. We went in and got seated at our table and after a minute or two of uneasy conversation, she said, “I brought you something.” Out comes the paper bag, from which she pulls out a Ken doll, dressed as Superman, with “Mr. Pringles” written on the cape. My face felt like it was on fire and I could feel everyone in the entire place staring at me.

After ordering dinner, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. On the way back to the table, I passed the front door and seriously considered making a run for it, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Defeated, I slowly walked back to the table and we had our dinner.

We had also planned to go to a comedy club afterwards. I intended to offer to drive us both there, but instead told her to follow me in her car. Again, I considered maybe trying to drive fast and lose her on the way, but figured my VW minibus couldn’t outrun her Camaro. Fearing getting heckled by the comedians all night, I found a table in a dark corner towards the back and the rest of the evening was fairly uneventful. After the show, we said our goodbyes and before I could turn to go, she grabbed me and, giving me a giant bear hug, whispered, “Make sure you call me.”

Needless to say, that was the last I ever saw of Camaro girl. I learned a lot about dating the “friend with the great personality” that night. But to be totally honest, I would have hung out with her again, but that whole “Mr. Pringles” thing really creeped me the fuck out.

 

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California Dreamin’ – 1982 to 1984 – Work it Grandma!

One of our guitar players lives just a couple of blocks from a micro-sized bar and I must emphasize micro. This was fall of 1982. Our band was only a few months old and this was our first time there.

They literally move a pool table for the band and that’s about how much room you have to set up. But it’s a fun little place with a loyal local crowd that loves to party and packs it in.

About half-way through our gig a crowd of older women come in obviously already enjoying themselves. I’d guess early 50’s to some blue hairs. Turned out they were celebrating one of the ladies 80th birthday.

Despite our hard rock repertoire they were loving us and dancing to every song.
At the end of a song the birthday girl politely asked me if she could say something over the mic. I was like “sure it’s your birthday have fun.” Now mind you this lady is 80 years old tonight and looks like a typical great-grandma. Well she grabs the mic and screams at the top of her lungs: “I AM FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKED UP!” Our jaws hit the floor. That was the last thing we were expecting from her mouth. But everyone was cheering and laughing and after we got over the shock we were laughing too. Man I wish we had that on camera.

 

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Sun Stories: Jill – From Jill to Jezebel

So we know our girl Jill is an alcoholic and can never drink again. She drank with Trish and went out of control. Not my problem, but became my problem when I had to work all of their shifts. They are both no longer with us at the salon.

Jill still frequents the salon and all is forgiven. As long as she pays, she’s back to being a client here. I’m glad she’s doing okay and staying sober. I don’t know what she’s like drunk and I don’t want to know. I’m sure it’s been hard for her working at a nail salon after being a stripper and an escort. Living in a halfway house for women with substance abuse problems and addiction can’t be a picnic. They have to sign in and sign out when they come and go. They’re all used to partying everyday so now they can’t and they’re all bored out of their minds. They have to attend AA and NA meetings everyday. They’re living with a bunch of alcoholics and junkies all at different levels of addiction and it’s got to be a brutal little prison for these ladies.

I had seen her earlier in the week and she came in with hot ex-heroin addict housemate, Sabrina who I’m planning on taking out on a second date for some sober fun. (See: Sabrina – 2017 to Present – The Challenge) I’m glad I had a chance to chat with Sabrina again because I’m trying to score some tickets to a show and take her to it. Jill tells me she’s stressed out at her job at her salon, and Sabrina is really stressed at her job as well. I have some fear for them both because stress causes people to re-offend.

It was a Saturday and I agreed to take the shift for Summer who had a family thing to attend. So technically I shouldn’t even been there. Jill comes in and tans just like she always does. It’s always nice to see her. She looks great. Tawny hair, red top, sheer in the front that showcases her ample cleavage, and skin-tight jeans.

When she finishes tanning it’s around 4pm. She tells me she’s going crazy and that she’s going to drink a half pint of vodka and just come back to the salon and chill out. I advise her against it. She tells me she’s going to think on it and may or may not stop back. She’s not angry, I can tell she just wants to feel the high and relax. She’s done it so long and become so destructive with her addiction that she has no coping mechanisms in place to ease her mind or occupy it now that she’s sober. Stress hits and she reaches for the bottle. Sadly for Jill there’s no alternative.

I say a little prayer for her and hope she just goes home or does anything other than that.

But Jill does come back to the salon around closing time. She seems fine. She’s just hanging out and chatting. Okay, everything’s fine. She’s sipping ice tea from a plastic bottle.

One of my beloved clients comes in and I’m happy to see her. Even though we’re about to close I don’t mind because this lady gave me a five-star review on Yelp. Yea, she can come in whenever she wants.

I’m chatting with her a little bit, joking that she came in late but because of the positive review I’m letting her step over the line. Jill hops into the conversation, which is fine. She and the client are chatting away like old friends.

I notice that Jill is more chatty and lively than usual. Is she drinking? Is there vodka in that iced tea bottle?

I send my client in to her session.  Jill suddenly wants to help me close up the salon. I tell her I’ve got everything well at hand. She’s very chatty and starts grabbing things to clean.

That’s the moment I smell the booze on her. I’m getting nervous. What is she going to do?

She can see that I’m on edge and tells me to relax. But I can’t help it. We all know what happened last time. Got black out drunk and kicked out of her halfway house. Thankfully, they let her back in. She says she’s just going to drink a half pint and then by the time she goes home she’ll be clean and no one will find out.

This lady is playing with fire. Phase one is her desire to drink overcoming her will to resist. Phase two is going to the liquor school and buying the half pint of vodka. Phase three is the over enthusiastic chatterbox. Phase four is the euphoria phase where she relaxes and leans into the soothing buzz. That’s where she is right now, and that’s where she should stay.

But they never stay on that level. The buzz levels off and they want that feeling again so what do they do? That’s right, they drink more and that’s when the trouble starts.

Against my stern warning about what will happen to her, off she goes to the liquor store again. She’s already polished off a half pint and I can see her starting to change. I hope she doesn’t come back. Based on her past drunken actions she shouldn’t be here in the salon like that.

My last client leaves and I close the door.

Sure enough Jill returns with another iced tea and I’m sure it already contains booze.  She goes into the fitness center inside our salon. There are big mirrors on the one wall and she’s primping and doing her makeup and listening to her music. I finish, close up the salon and punch out.

She asks me to join her in the gym. I sit down on one of the blocks we have in there. (I think you’re supposed to jump on them) She’s flipping her hair and taking selfies like a teenage girl.  She is clearly entering the next phase. She sits on my lap and forces me to listen to her music. Her demeanor has also changed, she is sounding more urban in her dialect and is starting to slur her words. (Think black stripper)

Jill is a hot lady and a former stripper and escort so she knows the moves. She starts giving me a lap dance. I am really nervous because I’ve never seen this side of her. I’ve only heard about it from other people and it’s like she’s become a different person.

She’s grinding her butt against my crotch. Then she’s kissing me, and the next thing I know my face is pressed between her breasts.

“I miss dancing so much!”

Here is this client and former employee giving me a lap dance in the tanning salon! I’m stunned, scared and aroused all in the same moment. I know it’s wrong but she has reverted back to a drunken slutty stripper that I know would let me fuck her right now.

But being the gentleman that I am, I make some excuse that I have to drop some papers off. I have had to make this excuse to her several times because she’s not listening to me. She is lost in her mind now. Just all over me, dancing and grinding on me.

As hot as she is right now, and as sexualized as she is, I’m resisting and really worried that this is the end for her. She’ll go do something crazy and get kicked out of her house and she’ll end up homeless. She keeps saying how we’re going to go across the street and we’re going to smoke cigars and drink whiskey at Ashton Cigar Bar. She’s out of control.

I keep telling her I have to go drop off the papers.  She ends up spilling the vodka/iced tea down the front of her. This happened when she was trying to drink it, so you can see how drunk she is now. It’s like I’m looking into the eyes of a completely different woman. She’s slurring, and staggering about. I finally get her to the door, and she drops the bottle on the floor. It was nearly empty and made of plastic. She’s pissed off and mad at me now because I didn’t have sex with her and take her out to destroy herself further.  Her last words to me were: “You couldn’t afford me anyway.” and off she went out the door. I am praying that she doesn’t fall down the steps, but am also relieved that she is off the property.

I’m pretty shaken by the incident, and wait a few minutes and mop up the floor. I dispose of all of the evidence in the dumpster out back and windex the mirrors she was leaning up against and touching while she was doing her sexy little dance for me. I give the place the once over and I think I’m good to go. I won’t mention this to anyone. But I will write about it here because the story must be told.

I lock up and head to the bar where I know my friend Prova works. (See: Prova – 2015 to Present – Glow of the Sun) Prova can see I am visibly shaken. I just tell her I’ve got some anxiety about opening the gym. She gives me a Manhattan and that settles the nerves. I just hope Jill is okay. But I’m scared for her well-being out there. She’s so lost in herself right now.

 

Epilogue

I get a text from Jill the next day around 1pm. “Sorry that I was acting crazy… That’s why I can’t drink.”

“No worries. Just glad you’re okay.”

She comes into the salon that week like nothing had happened. She tells me curfew is 12:45 on the weekends. So she did finally get back to her house around that time. She went straight to her room and fell asleep. So somehow she dodged a fatal bullet and no one knew she got blackout drunk. She calls the person she becomes drunk, Jezebel. Sounds fitting. I didn’t go into detail of what transpired between us because I didn’t want to embarrass her and I didn’t want her to remember any of it. She left me around 6pm Saturday and didn’t get home until 12:45. I asked her what she did for the six hours from when she left me.

“I have no idea.”

 

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Tales of Rock – I wouldn’t Want This For My Daughter or Anybody’s Daughter: Will #MeToo Kill Off the Rock’n’Roll Groupie? – Part 1

Male rock stars of the 1970s and 80s were often notorious for sleeping with young female fans. Now women are starting to see those encounters in a very different light.

Jimmy Page Pamela Des Barres in 1973.
 Jimmy Page and Pamela Des Barres, 1973. Photograph: Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images

In 2001, when the Mötley Crüe biography The Dirt was published, barely an eyebrow was raised at the debauchery described within. Even one of the darkest tales, in which Nikki Sixx said he “pretty much” raped an intoxicated woman after he had had sex with her in a cupboard and then sent Tommy Lee in to do the same, did little to damage Sixx’s reputation.

If such an account were published now, or allegations to that effect posted on social media, the artist in question would be vilified by fans and potentially subject to criminal proceedings. Brand New’s UK tour was cancelled after its frontman, Jesse Lacey, was accused last November of “soliciting nudes” from a then-underage girl; he later apologised. Support acts pulled out of touring with the Polish metal band Decapitated after they were accused of gang-raping a woman on their tour bus. (They denied the allegations and the charges were cleared in January.)

Mötley Crüe in 1984 … a reputation for excess.
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Mötley Crüe in 1984 … a reputation for excess. Photograph: Paul Natkin/WireImage

Rapper Nelly is fighting a lawsuit from a woman who accuses him of raping her on his tour bus. The suit cites allegations of sexual assault from two other women, one of which allegedly took place after a gig in Essex last December. He denies all allegations. Other, less high-profile, artists, such as Ben Hopkins of the New York duo PWR BTTM and Jonny Craig of the US band Slaves (not the UK duo), were dropped from their respective record labels when allegations of sexual misconduct, which they both deny, were posted on social media.

Even before the #MeToo movement, fans were using social media to share allegations of inappropriate conduct by musicians, but the current high-profile conversation around consent and male entitlement has not only led fans to document their experiences, but even spurred former groupies to question the power dynamic underpinning their experiences.

There is, of course, a gulf between fans who want to meet their favourite musicians and then end up being exploited (or worse) and self-confessed groupies. The latter are actively seeking sex with musicians, while the former are not. Dr Rosemary Lucy Hill, from the Centre for Interdisciplinary Gender Studies at the University of Leeds, says the idea of a groupie is a complex one. She cites the example of Pamela Des Barres, who slept with Mick Jagger, Jimmy Page, Jim Morrison and numerous others, and wrote five books about her experiences – an updated version of the most famous, I’m With the Band, is being published in April.

PWR BTTM … Ben Hopkins (right) denies allegations of misconduct.
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PWR BTTM … Ben Hopkins (right) denies allegations of misconduct. Photograph: Ebru Yildiz

“Her idea is that the groupie is the muse,” Hill says. “The way that she talks about sex with musicians as being about getting close to the music is really powerful. When you start to think about music and sex in those terms, it changes your idea of what it means to be a groupie. I’m talking about consensual sex, but some people think it’s never a free choice because of all the expectations. I think both of these things are true at the same time – and that makes it really complicated.”

Roxana Shirazi, 44, a former self-described groupie who wrote the 2011 book, The Last Living Slut: Born in Iran, Bred Backstage, about her experiences, says her own desires were her priority when she began pursuing musicians including members of Mötley Crüe and Guns N’ Roses. “I wasn’t a 19-year-old, wide-eyed young girl – I was 28 when I first met a musician,” she says. “I was very in tune with my sexuality. I wanted to be around guys who I liked, and I wanted them to treat me equally. I wasn’t going to be of service to them; I wanted to be happy and turned on.”

Despite her confidence, she saw a dark side to the lifestyle. “It’s never possible to have full agency [as a groupie],” she says. “From the outset, the power structure is not equal. They’re famous, and, unless you’re famous yourself, you’re not on the same plane.” In The Last Living Slut, Shirazi documented what she describes as emotional abuse from the Guns N’ Roses keyboardist, Dizzy Reed(whom she claims pressured her to have an abortion). The reaction was markedly different from the condemnation such allegations tend to receive today – she was, she says, ostracised by people in the music industry. “A lot of the initial reactions were: ‘Good … well done,’” she says. “Women wrote to me and said: ‘I had the same experience with so-and-so. Do you think I should come forward?’ Then it was all shut down. If I went to LA to see my friends, there were places I couldn’t go; it was like I spoke out against this thing that I shouldn’t have.”

 

 

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Chloe – Awkward Coffee Date

So I met a girl on OK Cupid a while back, let’s call her Chloe. Nice lady. Not the most attractive woman in the world, but enough for a date. I message her a bit online, we trade Facebooks and have some pretty intriguing conversations about psychedelics and the human psyche. Our thoughts and our dreams and other cool stuff. I think, wow she’s a deep thinker like me, I bet we are really gonna click!

I ask her out to get some coffee that week so I can bail just in case it gets bad, but fully expect it to go well based on our conversations. Oh my naive heart.

I arrive at the coffee place where we agreed to meet and I take a look in the window. Don’t see her in there. I look around a bit, no doubt coming off as a lost idiot until I notice a girl leaning against the building next door.  There was an overhang so it was darkened (this is like 6pm at night because I work full-time 9-5 mind you) and she steps forward and I recognize it as her.

Red flag number 1. But I shrug it off. Okay it was just a little weird. Nothing too bad. We get in line and I try to strike up casual conversation. She responds kindly, but with as little effort as possible it seems and in very awkward utterances.

We sit down with our drinks and I redouble my efforts, touching on things that sparked conversation before, but it’s almost like she’s a different person as she seems completely apathetic to the entire situation regardless of what I said.

I ask her if there’s something wrong, and she apologizes saying that she smoked a little weed before coming over and was more high than she was expecting to be.

As I continue to try to salvage any conversation at all, I come to realize that she is completely fucking blitzed out of her mind.

Like sink into a couch and not speak for 3 hours blitzed. On a first date. Needless to say, I was very eager to get out of there, and luckily the coffee shop closed at 7.

We said our goodbyes and parted ways. When I got home I had a message from her talking about how she would be starting to sell shrooms soon after getting a connect from her ex-bf in a very not so passive attempt to push on me. Haven’t talked to her since. Fuck. That. Noise.

 

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California Dreamin’ -1982 to 1984 – Chapter 1 – The Idea

Back in 1982, I left New Jersey in my ’69 Volkswagen mini bus for Los Angeles. I’ll tell the whole story of that journey at some point, but I wanted to intro a new series that tells some of my interesting dating and social interactions while out in California. I was only 19 years old when I left, so these stories come from a younger man’s life. We got up to some wild shit back then.

These stories contain a bit more sexually explosive content so beware fair readers.

We were young, in a band and living in L.A. What could happen?

It was a long time ago but some of these tales are worth telling.

I’ll kick it off with this one.

 

I was sitting in a little tavern with my friend Bill in North Wildwood back in the summer of ’81. It’s a nice little beer and shot neighborhood bar. Woody’s is located at 19th and New Jersey Ave. It took me a moment to remember the name and location. It was a good lunch spot and also cool to hang out at night if you wanted to stay away from the club scene.

I met Bill working on Hunt’s Pier. It’s an old amusement pier on the boardwalk. I worked on The Golden Nugget Mine Ride, which was an old roller coaster enclosed in what looked like a big old western type mine. People road in little mine cars through the ride and stuff popped out of the darkness to shock and surprise them. It’s been torn down for many years but I have so many wonderful memories to write about regarding this period of my life. I can still smell the grease of the chain that carried the mine cars to the roof of the building.

Bill worked one of the games at the front of the pier. I don’t remember how we met, but we became good friends because at the time he was the funniest guy I had ever met. We hung out outside work and Bill was just so funny to be around. Usually I’m supplying the laughs but he just had a quick wit and I loved that about him. Bill wanted to go to California and become “the next Robert DeNiro” at the end of the summer season.

I tell him I want to go to California and become a metal god. (guy that plays hard rock and metal in a band) I suggest we save our earnings and go out together. He agrees.

I was a young naïve teenager back then and fell hard for people I met. We talked all about how great it would be when we got to L.A. and became stars. We did this most of the summer.

At some point I remember my dad chatting with Bill about our plan. I had him over to meet my Dad because I was so taken with my funny amazing new friend. My Pop has a lot of experience with people.

My Dad later told me that it sounded like Bill, was a bit of a feather merchant. Someone who could attach himself to me to get a free ride out to L.A. He also said that the stories Bill had told him about things he did and said back home in South Philly, and my Dad felt those stories didn’t wash. He also felt that Bill wasn’t really saving any money for this trip that I had already saved a thousand dollars for.

Well I think somehow Bill caught wind of what my dad was feeling. (Just looking out for my best interest) and got pissed off.  I remember him saying how he really hated my father and the trip was off.

I was crushed. I loved Bill and it was like he was breaking up with me. But as I write this now, I know my Dad was right about him. Bill’s pride was hurt, he was kind of a blowhard, and he hadn’t saved any money all summer. This was his immature boy’s way out.

But all was not lost. There was another guy I worked with on the ride. Frank. He was from Belfast, Northern Ireland. He was studying law and taking a year or two off to travel and have fun before he entered law school in London. We worked together every night on the ride and became good friends.

I remember telling Frank what had happened with Bill, and he said he’d go to California with me. He was going down to Florida with some of his mates in October and they were just going to work there for a bit. Irish people can get jobs like crazy. Great people! He said that he’d be coming up to stay with his Aunt and cousin in Atlanta after the holidays. So we started to plan for that. I was happy to be going with Frank, because I liked him and knew he was trustworthy and reliable.

I never really saw or spoke to Bill ever again. Not that I hated him or anything. We just lost touch after the incident and I guess he went back to South Philly.

But I was excited that the trip to Cali was still on!

 

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Phicklephilly – 2019 – 1000 Posts! – We Did It!!!

“If you live a life that is without the elements of who you really are you will never be happy.”

I’ve just been notified by WordPress that after 2 1/2 years of writing this blog I’ve written a 1000 posts!!!

It’s been an incredible journey to finally be writing again. I started out in this life as an artist. Then a musician, and then a writer.

But life, marriage, a child, and a career removed me from all of that. Other people needed me and the bills had to be paid.

But after 10 years I decided to write again.

I created Phicklephilly in the spring of 2016 and then did nothing.

By the fall I asked myself, is this something you’re going to talk about in bars with your friends and never do? I had discussed the notion of writing a blog about my life with many of my friends. One who is a better and more visceral writer than myself.

But I started to write.

I published a post about a waitress I had been infatuated with for some time on a Monday.

I worried no one would read it or like it. I worried that I wouldn’t be able to come up with content every Monday.

But I did.

Then I started writing updates for a Wednesday release.

Once the wheel started to roll, I did what needed to be done.

I wrote.

Writing is a hard lonely existence.

It’s something that you have to push yourself to do. Especially in the beginning. But like anything you really want you push yourself to do.

You begin a fitness program and you stick with it. The muscles grow and the fat disappears. You keep at it and then it gets easier.

I started to write like mad. Cranking out content until I had something happening  few times a week.

 

Then I found other things I liked and started to write about them. The Tanning salon, Tales of Rock, Crazy dates I’d been on in the past. Celebrities I’d met, and most of all, past relationships.

Some beautiful. Some bittersweet.

I’m not a great writer, but I kept at it. Like a pilot, I put in a certain number of hours until the plane called Phicklephilly soared.

And now here I am with all of you my loyal followers and readers after two and a half  years of writing.

1000 posts and over 50,000 views!

I couldn’t be happier.

 

If you want to do something, don’t talk about it. Like Nike says: Just do it.

Write everyday.

Push yourself. Who cares who reads it. Just create and express yourself.

 

I GUARANTEE  you that if you start writing and keep at it, the rewards will be like pieces of gold falling into your lap.

When you write from the heart and tell the truth about everything in your life, (Not everything. Keep some of yourself for yourself. That belong to you.)  You will find this liberating weight lifted from your shoulders.

Get it all out. The good, the bad and the ugly. Don’t be afraid. It’s just words. But it will lighten the load you’ve been carrying around your whole life.

Once you write it down and publish it… It’s gone but not invisible. But it’s out of you for the first time in your life. It’s now safely on the paper. You can understand what you’ve experienced so much better once you write about it.

You can look back on your work and your life and it’ so much easier to process, forgive and understand.

 

Writing Phicklephilly has been the most singular liberating experience of my adult life.

 

And there is so much more to tell.

I have so much more to say.

Knowing that these stories are now out on the internet forever. Even after I’m dead it is comforting.

Because they are no longer my responsibility. WordPress carries the weight for me now.

But by writing all of these stories guarantees my immortality.

 

I don’t need that, but it’s so much to live a simple, happy, and uncluttered life once you write.

I love most of what I’ve written. Everybody knows I hate writing dating and relationship advice but I found a way to keep it going for my readers who enjoy it.

I think my followers now know that I write Phicklephilly because of my simple love of creating. I’ve always been that way since I was a child. Drawing a picture. Sculpting something out of clay. Writing a song. Writing a book and a screenplay. Creating a comic strip.

I am an entity that apparently must always be creating and am happiest when I’m doing that very thing.

“If you live a life that is without the elements of who you really are you will not be happy.”

I feel happier than I have ever felt in my entire life.

I’ve lived a big exciting life. I’ve done a lot and experienced much. But it really comes down to a few simple components for me and please take heed if you wish.

  1. Your health is essential. You have that. you’re already winning.
  2. Surround yourself with good people. Whether they are friends, family or even some wonderful pet companions.
  3. Have something to do every day that you like to do. If you hate your job, find a better one that suits your life needs. It’s a third of your life, work. Why spend your day being miserable? Do something you don’t hate every day. It’s a short life. Enjoy yourself!
  4. To love and be loved. This is a tough one. Most people need this one. Love yourself and find someone else to love. If they love you back… Awesome!
  5. Have something to look FORWARD to. I don’t care what it is. Just have something. Brunch with a friend, a red envelope arriving from Netflix, a party, a day off, something you want to do that you made time to do. 

 

That’s it.

The rest is just stuff and bullshit.

Focus on the top 5.

 

Thank you one and all for taking the time out of your busy lives to take the time to read my little blog about dating, relationships and a bunch of stuff from my life.

I wish I could throw a big party and invite each and every one of you and we could all hang out and really get to know one another.

I’ve had the joy to become friends with some of the other talented writers on WordPress and it has been an absolute delight.

So many great people on here.

I also really appreciate my friends who have read and have subscribed to Phicklephilly. I love knowing they are here with me on this journey of self discovery and I hope some of this will inspire them to push forward on their lives.

Two and a half years ago there was nothing. I decided to start to write and now this is here.

You can create anything you want. You just have to do it and do it every day.

Look what can happen if you put your mind to something.

I’m still going to try in 2019 to get a couple of books published on Amazon Kindle this year!

 

Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!!!!

 

Anything can be done, and you can do it too.

Please reach out to me for anything. I’ll always get back to as fast as I can.

 

My heart is full of love.

 

Life is good and my daughter Lorelei is healthy and happy, so that’s all I need.

 

Thank you one and all. This means the world to me and I hope you continue to enjoy the content I provide in 2019 and beyond!

 

There’s so much more to the story!!!

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

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