Tag Archives: Bob Dylan

Voodoo Chile (Slight Return)

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It’s a Friday, feels like a Saturday. Back in the day, when I lived in Lodi, this would be the day that my parents would go off to Cherry Hill, coming back on Sunday. That usually left my brother Brian and myself at home.

I would spend the day, walking up to the Garden State Plaza, buying records at Sam Goody, books at Schiller Books and then walking across Route 4, over the cloverleaf to Alexanders where records were $4.99 generally.

Maybe some cookies at David’s Cookies in Bamberger’s, or a cheap sandwich at Kresge’s. Then a walk home walking faster than the cars stuck in traffic on Rochelle Avenue. A simpler life it was then.

Don’t recall what Brian and I did for food, but being after Thanksgiving there were bound to be leftovers, pies and brownies and Pfeffernusse which would usually stay in a glass canister for months on end.

I remember one time Brian had a small party, I was upstairs watching Yellow Submarine on a black & white TV. Some friend of Brian’s was playing Dear Prudence on guitar which to my ears was amazing. I don’t remember his name but he also kept his pack of Marlboro in his Frye boots which I thought was sooo cool.

I suppose it must have been 1977 since I bought the 10th anniversary issue of Rolling Stone which made me somewhat hip, or so I thought. And that’s my memory from 32 years ago.

Right now, since nothing else is on I’m watching A Hard Day’s Night on VH1 Classics. Sure it’s distracting me from writing but it’s a fun distraction.

It’s been a giddy day for me today. Don’t know why but I’m not about to question it.

Maybe it had something to do with yet another cannabis free dream last night. This one, I was Bob Dylan’s assistant at his hotel somewhere in Manhattan. I had a problem dealing with his barbecue utensils & tongs so I asked a New York Times reporter in the next room what I should do with them.

Just then Bob entered and said not to touch them. Fine enough, I said I was leaving and I would see everyone tomorrow. As I was leaving the hotel room, in the hallway some guy grabs my arm and tells me to come with him.

Having no say in the matter I go with him and we wind up on the roof of the hotel. He starts telling me that he’s upset with the fact that I’ve been dealing weed in his hotel. Apparently he, and only he was allowed to do such dealings.

I plead my case, stating that it’s impossible, that I hadn’t smoked any weed in over a week! That actually got me off the hook.

I woke up to Bill watching Sanford & Son in the next room. After I got myself awake and alive, Bill and I walked around Hoboken a bit. Stopped by the Guitar Bar to say hello to Jim.

I bought a guitar strap with the Guitar Bar logo on it which Jim graciously took a couple of bucks off the price. I’d still love Jim even if he charged me full price.

Then it was off to the Post Office to pay some bills. Bill saw me put the local mail in the wrong slot and after the letter left my fingers he asked if I had put a stamp on it.

I know at the apartment I thought about using a Homer Simpson stamp and when Bill mentioned that I thought I did. But doubt being what it is, I got back on line and told a postal worker about what I might have done.

He directed me to walk down the hall to the customer service window. I rang the bell and told them and they retrieved the letter, with no stamp on it. Then I had to get back on line and buy some stamps.

Being in a giddy mood, almost manic, I chatted with the man behind the glass, answering his question about using a credit card with a ‘Yes, Ma’am’. ‘Ma’am?’ he remarked and I apologized with him saying in turn, ‘It’s OK, Miss’. It was all a big giggle.

Came home Bill took a nap since he’s working from 6:00PM to 6:00AM. Overtime rarely comes to his office and he jumped at the chance. I changed my guitar strap, played some songs, Elton, Beck, Simon & Garfunkel, and Elvis Costello. Trying to figure out La Vie en Rose as well.

Woke Bill up at 4:00 by standing over him and playing The Lion Sleeps Tonight. A giddy day. Giddy I tell you, Giddy!

Series of Dreams

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Earliness ensues. Been a pretty good day thus far. Last night Bill and I watched both The Naked Civil Servant and Resident Alien. It was Quentin Crisp night on Park Avenue. The Naked Civil Servant was very good, mainly for John Hurt’s top notch performance.

Resident Alien was a bit of a downer, Quentin living in a tiny apartment in the East Village, getting some negative feedback from Seniors Active in a Gay Environment (SAGE).

Quentin claimed to be a successful failure and some people in the documentary are say some awfully mean things about him. It’s definitely not a love letter, unless it was from Frank Booth in Blue Velvet.

I would see Quentin Crisp from time to time on the street in the East Village, blue rinsed hair, looking like a dandy. I might have said hello to him once or twice. He probably responded in kind, being polite and well mannered. That was probably the early 1980’s.

John Hurt was in Resident Alien, playing himself and interviewing Quentin on the streets of New York City, and some eerie shots with each looking at the other though as mirror frame.

Bill enjoyed the DVDs and then it was off to bed for him while I stayed up until almost 1:00. Slept good, told Bill to use my bus pass this morning since I wasn’t heading into the city.

Had a nice relaxed breakfast and did some laundry, leaving the apartment around 11:45 to do some grocery shopping. I’m so domesticated.

Listening to disc 1 of Bob Dylan’s Tell Tale Signs quite a lot today. Also listened to Bruce Springsteen’s Magic album which was really good. Never played it from start to finish.

Some of it is typical Bruce & E Street stuff and some of it is extraordinary. Also played some of Born to Run. Not the title track, that would be a bit much. No, I played 10th Avenue Freeze-out, Night and Backstreets.

Just seemed like a perfect day to play some Bruce with the windows open and the sun breaking through the clouds.

It was so nice out I decided to wander around Hoboken. Not many people around on a Friday afternoon. Rain was forecast but all you needed to do was look outside, where it was cloudy but sunny as well. The glass was half full as it were.

I wound up by Pier A and sat and continued reading the Eno biography. He just did some half hearted demos for Television, working with Robert Fripp, had a lung collapse and was hit by a car.

A busy life indeed. Up next should be David Bowie, Talking Heads, Devo and U2.

Now it starts to rain, a few raindrops fall on the windowpane, raindrops in puddles on a neighboring rooftop. I like living on the top floor.

Now I’m playing disc 2 of Tell Tale Signs and like disc 1, it opens with a version of Mississippi from Love & Theft. There’s so much Dylan out there, different eras and styles. I do like 1965-66 Dylan but not much from the 1970-80’s. I have Blood on the Tracks but I just can’t get into it.

Yet.

I didn’t ‘get’ Blonde on Blonde the first time I heard it and that was in the 1990’s. Ann Boyles played that record a lot and tried to get me into it once or twice. I thought it was a character flaw, but the flawed character was me.

I really do like the 1990s to the present Bob Dylan. Seems like a very good fit. And the band behind him, lead by Tony Garnier for the past 15+ years is really good.

The rain has passed, mere minutes later. No biggie.