The pretty things were all dancing.

And we were looking for a sign.

Dexter danced and shook it off.

Like a Madman on the shine.

We were drinking at the Cascade.

At Leo’s five and dime.

Nothing much was making sense.

Until The Villians were the crime.

It came and went so quickly.

Like a fever at high pitch.

The Era went, and no one saw.

In silent darkness came the switch.

No one gave us warning.

Or at least not one that I heard.

And all the pretty things were dancing.

And the lines were kinda blurred.

She came out of the smoke…

It was always the same.

Beauty flawed.

I couldn’t get enough. So it couldn’t last.

It’s odd how we find the way. The strength.

I left her there. It’s what she wanted.

I see her in my dreams. Always the same.

Beauty flawed. She comes out of the smoke…

I was thinking, partly listening. I was nodding, but deep in past.

You were talking. I know it’s shocking. You were thinking this can’t last.

The balance is fractured broken. . There’s a movement in the air.

All that talking, and no listening. Spinning stuck in, ‘I don’t care.’

I am sad to hear that you have passed. 

You gave me a great gift – Your time.   Your honesty. Your art. I first saw you in THE UNFORGIVEN… which to my surprise, really wasn’t about me.

I was proud to call you my friend…

You changed my life and gave me hope and I am grateful for you and you listened. 

You bought my paintings when I was a starving artist and that puts you in a very small exclusive group.

I was attracted to your passion and I loved the sound of your voice. I miss you already, as I always have. 

Cheers, thank you and warm regards Ron White…

Dennis Mantin 

“It’s always been a gift I’ve had. Finding beautiful cruel women… What I’ve never been able to figure out is it the beauty that makes them cruel or my desire?”

I don’t think Mother’s get enough credit… There is great sacrifice in motherhood. Physical, emotional, financial… all of this and more.

The dependence that children have on their mothers is paramount.

My mother was Margaret MacIver and her mother was Mary who died when my mother was 13.

Margaret died when I was 11. I don’t know if I ever got over her passing.

My daughters mother lost the ability to cope with parenting when my daughter was 8 and although I have never given birth, I am a father and a mother to my girl; according to her.

I take the job and privilege of parenting as the highest priority in my life. I have learned that not everyone can be a parent in spite of the fact that they can give birth. There are many reasons for this and some of them are even valid…

A large gaping mouth set on a gigantic head, held up by a tiny neck unable to swallow their desires…

The horror! The horror!!

Now I have the visual of the narcissistic view.

They fear they don’t exist…

Marcus wrote, ‘When you arise in the morning think of what a precious privilege it is to be alive-to breathe, to think, to enjoy and to love. ‘

Now there’s a meditation.

It might be important to note that Mr Aurelius was the last of what was considered to be in Rome…

‘The 5 Good Emporers. ‘ A period of about 200 years that ended in 180 A.D.

Marcus was also a Stoic Philosopher.