Thursday, September 6, 2012

Good Luck

Next to small glen leading into Umpqua River. Sheltered under big elm trees. Everything alive and close-up. Y'know, 'Down by the River'. I camped within 10 miles of here last summer - before Medford Dylan show - now here again day after Dylan show. A great circle. A year of new things. Trials and tribulations.
Gotta take Dylan's advice- 'Good Luck' at the end of every song. Just keep on rollin', don't let the bastards get you down. Be healthy, courageous - on a path or quest. Stay focused. Quit smoking (as I light up first of the day), drinking so much whiskey. Get in line!
For Bobby
Ramble Tamble on Blue Street
Back shadow display on the curtain
Let us into the Wizards Den
Take me down the road to Oz
Knockin' on the cupboard
Daddy's looking for the food
Hear them bells a-ringin'
The Sugar Daddy's in town
 Forever younger everyday
Surely the pearly gates must call
Shrug it off with a flick of the wrist
One more hoe-down, one more joint
Teach me the wisdom of the road
Open my eyes with your song
Never going back to my home
Alive by the riverside
Show-Buck Dancer in your prime
Southern Gentleman to the heart
Let me forget about today
Til tomorrow we sing again
Until we meet again
I'll remember you
How that harmonica of the ghosts
You blew forever free

Written on the banks of the Umpqua River in Southern Oregon on October 10, 2001. I had seen Bob Dylan and his Band perform the previous night in Central Point, Oregon.

Writing this in dying Western light up on wind crest in Siskiyous just north of Cave Junction. Listening to rusty, soulful, lashing stone and gravel "House Carpenter" Ghost Song by the Man.
Great sunset drive out of Lee and Holly's in Phoenix. Pastor burrito at corner place, falling in love with big wild woman with baby. Then Ray's Market - girls, girls, oh girls.
Found this Onion Mountain retreat off forest road. Feeling great. Restorative time. New Country. New feel. I can sense the largeness of the Ocean and the Redwoods.
Dylan is the new God. Reborn getting stronger. Growing out of crevices. Expanding, deepening. Graceful texture and tone. 'Who's gonna throw that Minstrel Boy a coin?'
I will toss a gold one.
Writing here by candlelight wind in the trees. Bobby singing about walking down the line. Suntanned mountain goat, eating fruit and ganja, keeping it right.
Looking up to pitch black star theatre drinking Beck's listening to magical Genuine Basement Tapes. Incredible Holy Grail Haven of musical genius.
Akin to the live shows that Dylan is playing these days. Steeped in American music. Preacher, vaudeville dancer, medicine man shyster, mover, Buddy Holly, Elvis, Tony Bennett, healer, shaman, lion tamer, bluesman, hopscotch musician. So grand, the Minstrel Boy barnstorming for the masses. Taking in the applause with a smiling knowing acknowledgement of his place in the history of American music. Duke Ellington, Robert Johnson, Miles, Coltrane, Muddy, Wolf, Monk, Dizzy, Bird, Satchmo, Elvis, Sinatra, Dylan. Don't forget Hank, Chuck and Buddy. Incredible rich tapestry of strength and integrity.
Rank Strangers - Jesus - singing my song
Tangled Up In Blue
It's Alright, Ma
Down in the Flood
-explosive, rising, ripping, falling
Forever Young - man, that says all you gotta say, it sums it all up.
Written on Onion Mountain in Southern Oregon on June 21, 2000. The night before I had seen Bob Dylan and his Band perform in Central Point, Oregon.
Basement Tapes
Real Sgt. Pepper
Keeper of time
And timelessness
Underground Stax
Rhythmn and Blues Picasso
Lightning Fast
And Tarzan Smile
c 2012 Dave Harding