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

Thursday, August 30, 2012

Waiting For a Light to Shine

In the Pines In the Pines
Where the sun never shines
That's where I'm camped tonight
On Mary's Peak (on the Oregon Coastal Mountain Range)
In an early October Drizzle
Fog on my left
The dead night on my right
Bonnie Ship the Diamonds
Basement dialogue and dance
Feeling together and fun
And daring

Gill Collesium get down
Tonight in Corvallis
In Person and Show
The Last Minstrel
Of our lifetime
One every 200 years passes
Through these parts sermonizing
With such passion
And Fire and Blood
The Eternal Time Keeper
Of American Song
Righteous and Self Knowing
The True American Buddha

Glistened with eternal
Knowing and kindred soul
Spirit in passing wisps of
Night and day
Spring and Fall
All together in one masterful
Sweep of brotherhood and rythmn
Tony, Charlie, Larry, David, & Bob
Time Bandits in mock respite
Torn off of history book pages
Ripples of introspection
Layered with regret
Yesterday's message in today's
Blowin' in the Wind
  -How many more times
    will the cannonballs fly?
Knockin' on Heaven's Door
  -Wipe these tears from my eyes
  -Mama take these guns off of me
    I can't shoot them anymore
A Soilder's Grave
  -Pure honesty
It's Alright, Ma
It's All Over Now, Baby Blue
 -All your reindeer armies are now rowing home
Waiting for The Light
Desolation Row
Masters of War
Positively 4th Street
Don't Think Twice
Watching the River Flow
Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum
Cold Irons Bound

Driven up Mary's Peak Roadway
Listening to Bill Monroe
Drinking smoking in foggy soggy
Of early October
Sitting in truck cab 1:19 am
Tent moved to drier place
Under base of pine tree
Gonna head in soon
Savoring this time

-Written after seeing Bob Dylan and his band perform at Gill Colliseum in Corvallis, Oregon on October 7, 2001.The evening prior to the concert the United States government began bombing Afganistan.

Dream Record  September 10, 1998
Dreamed I was sitting in the front row of a Bob Dylan concert, actually on the left side of the stage. The band was rocking, doing songs I had never heard before. One song had a Sonic Youth feel to it.
I was there with two friends, Sweet Torcher and Weimsy.
Dylan started to come over and grin at us while he was jamming. I held eye contact with him for what felt like 15 seconds. He seemed to look into me and know me. I felt a strong presence of Roy Orbison and Buddy Holly.
He came over again and said (more to my friends than to me) "Do you wanna take the train down to the Eugene show tomorrow night?" We hollered our acceptence. Free tickets and a train ride; seventh heaven.
A little later Dylan was talking to the audience, telling them about some of the changes he has gone through since the last time he was here. My friend on my left, Sweet Torcher, yelled out "And you've lost 28 pounds".
Dylan came over, not thinking the comment too funny. There was some mention about us not going to the Eugene show after all, then things got weird.
The rest of my dream was me trying to get on a train, walking through the streets of a small town,