Dave K Davis, b. July 10th, 1932, in Overton, Texas. Husband of Woody Jean Davis, fantastic father and genius engineer. Happy Birthday Dad!  You're the best!

     I drew this in my one drawing class taken at Brookhaven Jr. College as soon as I got out of the Corps.  I found this while moving my stuff  'tother day.  This is old yellowed newsprint about 2' X 18".  My brother cleaned this up using Paint.  Charcoal.      1982.  I really like cavalry uniforms. It seems to work better cropped.

      Took me three trips to get out of there, and I must have underestimated my books by about 300 lbs.  I took one last stroll around, got pictures of Monster and Stonewall's graves.  I played dice with my friends last night and only lost 3 dollars.  My last night sleeping in that particular shed.  I found some art from 1982 when I was fresh out of the Corps.  Here in a bit I will put up pictures of all this, but it is time for the pause that refreshes! A Laird no longer! (Beatrix Potter)

      The Dallas Library, Main Entrance, 1972.  Taken with my Voightlander, developed and printed by me as the kid.  I thought I was the next Robert Capa.  Marshall M. Fredricks, sculptor.      Selfie with tripod mounted view camera, remote press button cable release.  Why did my parents let me buy those glassses?  I am currently listening to Mary Had A Little Lamb, Stevie Ray.  1971, it says on the back in my ink pen scratching that was used for marking laundry but I felt like Edgar Allan Poe using it.      Above, tourist trap at Port Aransas.  I think it is still there.  Below,  Lake Dallas, annual Collins Radio engineer bash.  Both c. 1970.  That's all, folks!

     I am Mittens, representative of the Allied cat clans, and the rabbit does not know I am here.  For nine years Billy kept my brother,Thomas Jonathon Jackson, alive, happy and fed.  Stonewall was to be King of the Cats, until his murder.  As Heir Presumptive, that role is now mine.      The Lapin clan is our prey and enemy, but one rabbit made a difference to the cats.  He welcomed all cats and bunnies on his land, and a balance was established.  He was our friend and benefactor, and is soon to be gone.  Warfare will resume.      The murderers will be punished.  I have no love for bunnies, but I respect at least one.  And yes, this is a blunderbuss.  We are not as technical as some.  It is only for show.  We are born with our weapons and there is no greater hunter on land than the common housecat.      Common indeed!

     So, I'm getting ready to go back to Rockport, right?    I had played Farkle with Ed and Stork and took them off for fifty bucks, fuck yeah.  Man, did we get slammered!  Beer, wine, and margaritas that Stork brought little umbrellas for.      I got up and man oh manishevitz, sleeping on bare wood floors while drunk ain't what it never was.  I drive over to my brother's cause I got to get two of my sister's cats.  No problemo, natch!      Two hours and one caged cat later, I call my sister to get her permission to bring back a less agile cat.  I was bleeding pretty bad.      Long story less long, both cats shit as soon as we started out for the coast.  200 miles of air-conditioned catbox and yowling from the depths of Hell all the way home. Believe you me, anything is better than what has been! This goes out to a former kid!

Kiss my grits.      Today I have to whip up to Austin, gamble with my friends, sleep in the shed and haul home a bunch of books and cats.  Ain't I the lucky one!      It looks like this time the sale of the land went through.  How nice.  I have reason to believe the lady buying it will turn it into a trailer park. How very, very nice.      After nine years of living in Garfield, of trying to be the best neighbor I could, none of the people around me speak to me or even say hello.  I have done nothing to them except wave and help out when needed.  Because I did not marry the first obese woman that came along and have a bunch of be-earringed rap listening dickhead kids, as so many did and do, then that makes me fallon.  That and my loud music and bad attitude.  And I have cats!  What kinda man would have cats?  What kinda man don't have guns and a truck?  And that son ...