Monday, October 13, 2014
Monday, October 6, 2014
The days come
and the days go
dragging me with them.
The hours advance
and the hours retreat
moving so slow
shuffling their feet.
There were plenty of tell tale signs, but I didn’t pick up on them. Only in retrospect can I say they were there. The house was given a good cleaning; carpets shampooed, mirrors polished, floors scrubbed, refrigerator made to look like new inside and out. Front porch swept and all clutter hidden away, out of sight, who knows where. I wondered about all of this as it was happening, the sudden burst of energy all about me, but never questioned it. I was just glad it was happening and I wasn’t the one doing it. It’s nice to have industrious children who give a damn what the house looks like.
And then there was the invitation to take me into the city for my birthday; to visit the gallery of my favorite Philadelphia artist, to pick out a nice gift for myself from a South Street boutique. Have some coffee at Starbucks. Some ice cream at Hagen Daz. Wow! They sure were giving me the star treatment.
I didn’t catch on till we arrived back home and I saw all the cars parked at our house. My husband and all five of my children, their children, even their childrens' children were there; waiting for me. They brought so much food, including my favorite pineapple upside-down cake, we won’t be cooking for days. I sat in my throne like a queen and they gave me gifts. Wonderful gifts. My great grandson took his first steps from the coffee table to the ottoman.
At the end of the day, close to midnight, after all the goodbyes were said and all the hugs and kisses given, after the last car pulled away I stretched out on the porch swing and thought, “What a lucky woman.” I was wearing my new birthday earrings, eating my scrumptious birthday fudge, and listening at long last, to my new birthday album: Tell Tale Signs. It was sublime. My day and Bob’s music. Life couldn’t get any better.
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Monday, September 29, 2014
1967 West Saugerties, New York
Note: 1956 is part of the title, not the date it was created or recorded.
"Perhaps the most mythical of all Dylan’s unreleased gems, “I’m Not There” is an absolute mystery. A long, extended meditation built around a four-chord acoustic-guitar strum, it was recorded only once by Dylan and never finished or revisited. Lyrics and lines float by, some discernible, others elusive. Among Dylan fanatics, it’s a kind of Rosetta stone because it seems to capture the artist in the midst of his creative process. The magic of “I’m Not There” is its lack of definition. Critic Greil Marcus devotes five pages of The Old, Weird America to the song, writing that “?‘I’m Not There’ is barely written at all. Words are floated together in a dyslexia that is music itself, a dyslexia that seems meant to prove the claims of music over words, to see just how little words can do.”The above article is excerpted from Bob Dylan's Most Mysterious Recording by Randall Roberts in LA Weekly
True, but what’s most engaging about the song is the revelation it provides about Dylan’s creative process. Unlike many outtakes and bootlegged tracks, “I’m Not There” feels like someone channeling, speaking in tongues, handling snakes, conjuring out of the mist the blueprint of a song." Randall Roberts
Saturday, September 27, 2014
Friday, September 26, 2014
Read What Life Means To Einstein by George Sylvester Viereck, Saturday Evening Post, Oct. 26,1929
(and don't miss the very interesting and funny Hanes underwear ad.)
“If… I were not a physicist, I would probably be a musician. I often think in music. I live my daydreams in music. I see my life in terms of music. I cannot tell if I would have done any creative work of importance in music, but I do know that I get most joy in life out of my violin.”