197 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/08 of-by patrick wey https://blog.patrickwey.com/category/image-content-of-the-day

His name isn’t Carl, that’s another character in my archives but he claimed to have written Elvis’s first hit whatever that was. He sang it while i continued to sip on my draft beer in the mens room of the Station, a famous drinking hole in my home town a few years ago, a lot of a few years ago. He dressed up in various outfits for the saturday night outing probably hoping to meet a woman or two, even old guys get lonely and want to cuddle up once in awhile. Pete sat across from us and waved back and forth off the stool ready to collapse any moment while the bang of rocks against the shuffle board walls slammed up against our ears and you could almost hear Elvis with his memphis blues singing thru the cracks of the walls. Jeese what ever happened to him with his pipe and stern gaze, you could see him around town once in a while slippin in from the cold in winter nights or dressed all up in summer baby blue for the grand union hotel another local bar down amongst the locals, the ones wasted and the ones getting wasted and all of um waitin for somethin to happin tryin to get it right for the night. I felt at home with these guys the games were easy to understand the thought was simple you could be an existentialist or a nihilist and nobody gave a damn you could walk easy thru the fog get as stoned as you’d like and still keep your feet firm on the ground, there was hardly a soul to shuffle you about. Nothin lasts, you had to move from that, a few nights of that and you had to do something with your life, i mean what the hell we here for, can’t write from down there forever, can’t find god in a bottle, can’t find him anyways but he kept singin like he was gonna get found soon real soon. And holy shit elvis came walking thru the walls and that was it never entered there again.