Talking to Old Soldiers
Nov. 17th, 2004 01:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
home_and_awaySitting at the library today, I was wedged between two fellows as physically different and historically identical as anybody could hope to find. Both ex-Navy (well, one was a Marine, but after as long as he's been out, and the time he spent when he was in, who really cares anymore?), both tracing back family roots, both winding up on the Carolina coast in the 1800's. Neither one a long-time local. One of the two included me into his conversation, and it turned round to me handing him my business card. "Get a doctor's clearance, see if he thinks we can do your friend's wife any good, then give us a call. Scott's a fine PT. Peace be on you, man. Take care." as he walked away. And after a minute, the other fellow leans back, says "Did I just hear you say 'peace be on you'?"
"Well. Yeah.. ?"
"Man oh man. How old'd you say you are? I'm beginning to understand why you don't think we're geezers."
"'S what I'm saying, man..."
"Ain't heard that since Viet Nam..."
And he and I chatted about how time's a manmade thing...As he's leaving, he lays this one on me, or at least the first lines of its chorus...
If you waste your time a-talkin' to the people who don't listen,
"To the things that you are sayin', who do you think's gonna hear.
...Keep reading the lyrics. They twist back upright.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Been thinking lately that Coyote's a damn fine friend to have--one o' the best--but if I want to get one thing done, and maybe done right so it's the last bitterness I have to drink, then maybe I ought to ask Raven's opinion now and then, and balance between the two... 'Cause our beloved fuzzy friend is a hell of an idea man...and oh baby, the ideas ~snaps teeth, grins~... but...execution's never been his strong suit.
...Thought's still in the chew toy stage.
Most everything is.
.....
Hm.
Lyrics for the road (and I *do* love the version on Unsorted through A, Vol. 2. whose is that, Mischa?):
Tangled Up in Blue
Early one mornin' the sun was shinin',
I was layin' in bed
Wond'rin' if she'd changed at all
If her hair was still red.
Her folks they said our lives together
Sure was gonna be rough
They never did like Mama's homemade dress
Papa's bankbook wasn't big enough.
And I was standin' on the side of the road
Rain fallin' on my shoes
Heading out for the East Coast
Lord knows I've paid some dues gettin' through,
Tangled up in blue.
She was married when we first met
Soon to be divorced
I helped her out of a jam, I guess,
But I used a little too much force.
We drove that car as far as we could
Abandoned it out West
Split up on a dark sad night
Both agreeing it was best.
She turned around to look at me
As I was walkin' away
I heard her say over my shoulder,
"We'll meet again someday on the avenue,"
Tangled up in blue.
I had a job in the great north woods
Working as a cook for a spell
But I never did like it all that much
And one day the ax just fell.
So I drifted down to New Orleans
Where I happened to be employed
Workin' for a while on a fishin' boat
Right outside of Delacroix.
But all the while I was alone
The past was close behind,
I seen a lot of women
But she never escaped my mind, and I just grew
Tangled up in blue.
She was workin' in a topless place
And I stopped in for a beer,
I just kept lookin' at the side of her face
In the spotlight so clear.
And later on as the crowd thinned out
I's just about to do the same,
She was standing there in back of my chair
Said to me, "Don't I know your name?"
I muttered somethin' underneath my breath,
She studied the lines on my face.
I must admit I felt a little uneasy
When she bent down to tie the laces of my shoe,
Tangled up in blue.
She lit a burner on the stove and offered me a pipe
"I thought you'd never say hello," she said
"You look like the silent type."
Then she opened up a book of poems
And handed it to me
Written by an Italian poet
From the thirteenth century.
And every one of them words rang true
And glowed like burnin' coal
Pourin' off of every page
Like it was written in my soul from me to you,
Tangled up in blue.
I lived with them on Montague Street
In a basement down the stairs,
There was music in the cafes at night
And revolution in the air.
Then he started into dealing with slaves
And something inside of him died.
She had to sell everything she owned
And froze up inside.
And when finally the bottom fell out
I became withdrawn,
The only thing I knew how to do
Was to keep on keepin' on like a bird that flew,
Tangled up in blue.
So now I'm goin' back again,
I got to get to her somehow.
All the people we used to know
They're an illusion to me now.
Some are mathematicians
Some are carpenter's wives.
Don't know how it all got started,
I don't know what they're doin' with their lives.
But me, I'm still on the road
Headin' for another joint
We always did feel the same,
We just saw it from a different point of view,
Tangled up in blue.
Copyright © 1974 Ram's Horn Music
Take it easy, guys.
Peace be on you, too.
"Well. Yeah.. ?"
"Man oh man. How old'd you say you are? I'm beginning to understand why you don't think we're geezers."
"'S what I'm saying, man..."
"Ain't heard that since Viet Nam..."
And he and I chatted about how time's a manmade thing...As he's leaving, he lays this one on me, or at least the first lines of its chorus...
If you waste your time a-talkin' to the people who don't listen,
"To the things that you are sayin', who do you think's gonna hear.
...Keep reading the lyrics. They twist back upright.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Been thinking lately that Coyote's a damn fine friend to have--one o' the best--but if I want to get one thing done, and maybe done right so it's the last bitterness I have to drink, then maybe I ought to ask Raven's opinion now and then, and balance between the two... 'Cause our beloved fuzzy friend is a hell of an idea man...and oh baby, the ideas ~snaps teeth, grins~... but...execution's never been his strong suit.
...Thought's still in the chew toy stage.
Most everything is.
.....
Hm.
Lyrics for the road (and I *do* love the version on Unsorted through A, Vol. 2. whose is that, Mischa?):
Tangled Up in Blue
Early one mornin' the sun was shinin',
I was layin' in bed
Wond'rin' if she'd changed at all
If her hair was still red.
Her folks they said our lives together
Sure was gonna be rough
They never did like Mama's homemade dress
Papa's bankbook wasn't big enough.
And I was standin' on the side of the road
Rain fallin' on my shoes
Heading out for the East Coast
Lord knows I've paid some dues gettin' through,
Tangled up in blue.
She was married when we first met
Soon to be divorced
I helped her out of a jam, I guess,
But I used a little too much force.
We drove that car as far as we could
Abandoned it out West
Split up on a dark sad night
Both agreeing it was best.
She turned around to look at me
As I was walkin' away
I heard her say over my shoulder,
"We'll meet again someday on the avenue,"
Tangled up in blue.
I had a job in the great north woods
Working as a cook for a spell
But I never did like it all that much
And one day the ax just fell.
So I drifted down to New Orleans
Where I happened to be employed
Workin' for a while on a fishin' boat
Right outside of Delacroix.
But all the while I was alone
The past was close behind,
I seen a lot of women
But she never escaped my mind, and I just grew
Tangled up in blue.
She was workin' in a topless place
And I stopped in for a beer,
I just kept lookin' at the side of her face
In the spotlight so clear.
And later on as the crowd thinned out
I's just about to do the same,
She was standing there in back of my chair
Said to me, "Don't I know your name?"
I muttered somethin' underneath my breath,
She studied the lines on my face.
I must admit I felt a little uneasy
When she bent down to tie the laces of my shoe,
Tangled up in blue.
She lit a burner on the stove and offered me a pipe
"I thought you'd never say hello," she said
"You look like the silent type."
Then she opened up a book of poems
And handed it to me
Written by an Italian poet
From the thirteenth century.
And every one of them words rang true
And glowed like burnin' coal
Pourin' off of every page
Like it was written in my soul from me to you,
Tangled up in blue.
I lived with them on Montague Street
In a basement down the stairs,
There was music in the cafes at night
And revolution in the air.
Then he started into dealing with slaves
And something inside of him died.
She had to sell everything she owned
And froze up inside.
And when finally the bottom fell out
I became withdrawn,
The only thing I knew how to do
Was to keep on keepin' on like a bird that flew,
Tangled up in blue.
So now I'm goin' back again,
I got to get to her somehow.
All the people we used to know
They're an illusion to me now.
Some are mathematicians
Some are carpenter's wives.
Don't know how it all got started,
I don't know what they're doin' with their lives.
But me, I'm still on the road
Headin' for another joint
We always did feel the same,
We just saw it from a different point of view,
Tangled up in blue.
Copyright © 1974 Ram's Horn Music
Take it easy, guys.
Peace be on you, too.
Ah, that would be...
Date: 2004-11-20 12:51 am (UTC)the Dylan version is on one of the 4 CD's I gave you tonight... ;-)
and now, something else to "chew" on...
The Broad Majestic Shannon
By Shane MacGowan (1988)
The last time I saw you was down at the Greeks
There was whiskey on Sunday and tears on our cheeks
You sang me a song as pure as the breeze
Blowing up the road to Glenaveigh
I sat for a while at the cross at Finnoe
Where young lovers would meet when the flowers were in bloom
Heard the men coming home from the fair at Shinrone
Their hearts in Tipperary wherever they go
Take my hand, and dry your tears babe
Take my hand, forget your fears babe
There's no pain, there's no more sorrow
They're all gone, gone in the years babe
I sat for a while by the gap in the wall
Found a rusty tin can and an old hurley ball
Heard the cards being dealt, and the rosary called
And a fiddle playing Sean Dun na nGall
And the next time I see you we'll be down at the Greeks
There'll be whiskey on Sunday and tears on our cheeks
For it's stupid to laugh and it's useless to bawl
About a rusty tin can and an old hurley ball
Take my hand, and dry your tears babe
Take my hand, forget your fears babe
There's no pain, there's no more sorrow
They're all gone, gone in the years babe
So I walked as day was dawning
Where small birds sang and leaves were falling
Where we once watched the row boats landing
By the broad majestic Shannon
::howls and kisses::
Coyote Waits