Tell you, reader, no shit, I could damn near write a freaking book in and of itself on how much I’ve been dogged by self-publishing book companies, but I never will. Nope, this is it for me. Cash me in, baby. I am like SO done with this bullshit. But before bailing, I do want to give it up to AuthorHouse for being my last ever book publisher. Regarding this quite short nonfictional book you are now holding, it simply consists of a list of my songs, written between August 2011 through July 2012, together with a collection of my printed thoughts. Songs reveal a good deal of what is inside a person’s soul as do written thoughts. And I do believe there is measurable depth of both dredged up and processed into the contents of these pages, I should like to think considerably deeper than “Jack Handey’s” thoughts. But even if they ain’t, what can I tell you? Ah fuck it, just call me ‘Jack.’ Peace. Late.

It's a simple collection of songs and various thoughts on various subjects, usually dark or controversial, or both, in nature. Really, since there are no musical scores accompanying the songs, the song part of this small book is more poetry I reckon than anything else.

This quite short nonfictional book simply consists of a group of songs minus the music scores. Being so, it might rather be called poetry of sorts. These songs were written between August 2011 through March 2013. And they are accompanied with a collection of my printed thoughts. 'Bout all there is to it really. I now want to admit to something on the way out of my short-lived writing career. Namely and I can't imagine surprising, I am not a writer at all, never have been. It's just something I thought I'd try my hand at. I did and I failed, that's all. Sure, I was dogged a number of times by the self-publishing book racket during the past three-plus years I spent writing, both this undersized "songbook" and my complex "PTSD" book, over three years contending with homelessness (which unfortunately I still am). But my own ignorance and hardheaded refusal to accept anything less than perfect was, I think, far more detrimental to me than the Print On Demand book companies that robbed me. Well, don't guess I have to worry about all that anymore 'cause I done went and raised the white flag of surrender and defeat. The game is over. I LOSE. But even in defeat---I'm talking like major defeat, a blowout, a knockout, a one-sided ass-whipping---there is one solace I can take in the whole shitty thing: I GAVE IT EVERYTHING I HAD. Having done so, Lord only knows there ain't no way I'm going to allow myself to get back into that situation again, to allow my inhuman sense of unrealistic perfection to seize me, to be taken in by self-publishing's unimaginable and heartless greed, to go through that awful, awful, awful tag team beating again---no fucking way in hell, y'all!!! I'm done now. And I'm gone. Won't be hearing from Lenny Francis anymore, unt uh. Done paid my dues, baby---correction, done paid above and beyond the motherfuckers! I'll say! Late.

"With my jingle in your brain, Allow the Bridge to arch again" How are we to understand Leonard Cohen’s plea? Who speaks to whom in this oeuvre spanning six decades? In search of an answer to this question this study considers the different guises or “demons” that the Canadian singer-songwriter adopts. The countless roles assumed by Cohen’s personas are not some innocent game, but strategies in response to the sometimes conflicting demands of a “life in art”: they serve as masks that represent the performer’s face and state of mind in a heightened yet detached way. In and around the artistic work they are embodied by different guises and demons: image (the poser), artistry (the writer and singer), alienation (the stranger and the confidant), religion (the worshipper, prophet, and priest), and power (the powerful and powerless). Ultimately, Cohen’s artistic practice can be read as an attempt at forging interpersonal contact. The wide international circulation of Cohen’s work has resulted in a partial severing with the context of its creation. Much of it has filtered through the public image forged by the artist and his critics in concerts, interviews, and reflective texts. Less a biography than a reception study—supplemented with extensive archival research, unpublished documents, and interviews with colleagues and privileged witnesses—it sheds new light on the dynamic of a comprehensive body of work spanning a period of sixty years. Published in English.

What if we taught young people that they can measure success by how they follow Christ rather than by how much money they make or where they go to college? In What Matters Most, University of Notre Dame theology professor Leonard J. DeLorenzo urges youth ministers, teachers, and parents to help young people redefine success in light of their call to discipleship—completely saying yes to God. In Luke's account of the Annunciation, Mary offers a true model of discipleship for young people to follow. Her example will empower them to make choices about how to live their lives as a courageous yes to God in everything they choose—just as she did. DeLorenzo, who served as the long-time director of Notre Dame Vision—a program designed to help young Catholics find their true calling as disciples of Jesus—shows how Mary exhibited four habits that will guide young people to make important life decisions: Listen carefully and practice patience. Remember who we are and what we value most. Respond with compassion to choices we face. Embrace sacrifice for the sake of love. DeLorenzo includes personal stories from his experience as a father and working with youth and young adults with spiritual wisdom to equip teachers, mentors, pastoral ministers, and parents to reexamine the way they encourage and help form young Catholics approaching significant life choices such as college and jobs. He presents ways to remedy spiritual deficits in these young people created by cultural realities such as the fast pace of tech-driven lives and the looming pressure to succeed with worldly accomplishments.

Leonard Cohen has aimed high: to be all Jewish heroes at once. Like Jacob, he struggled with angels. Like David, he sang psalms and seduced women. But he never ceased doing what he did best: going from city to city and reviving our hearts. Leonard Cohen: The Man Who Saw the Angels Fall follows the singer’s cosmopolitan life from Montreal and New York to the Greek island of Hydra and examines his perpetual dialogues with himself, God, and avalanches. We see how six decades of radiant pessimism and a few thousand nights in hotel rooms transformed a young Jewish poet who longed to be a saint into an existentialist troubadour in love with women and a gravelly-voiced crooner who taught a thousand ways of dissolving into love. After more than two decades of research and travels, Christophe Lebold, who befriended the poet and spent time with him in Los Angeles, delivers a stimulating analysis of Cohen’s life and art. Gracefully blending biography and essay, he interrogates the mission Cohen set out for himself: to show us that darkness is just the flip side of light.