( 10:49 AM )
Listening to Son House isn't helping Much
Not exactly the medicine you should be taking. Last night's double dose of Tom Waits sure didn't help much. You must remember to stop chasing your Waits with Jack Daniels. In fact, it would probably be best to stop the Jack altogther. But since when have you listened to advice of any nature.
So there you are on the corner. Smoking, drinking, listening to the words you knew were going to come but were still afraid to hear. One minute you're up - her eyes welcoming and bright, as she leans next to you to whisper that everything is going to be all right. Her smile. Her hair. Her.
Now you find yourself "way down now," as World Party sang - a victim of time, your own circumstance and the reality of your surroundings. You always knew it was coming but you can't help feeling low.
Dejected.
Rejected.
Disposed.
Son House ends but you have countless songs to mark this moment - to paint this mood. Elmore James, Otis Redding, Shuggie. You know that they will never leave and you will never leave them. I guess that at the end of the day - we "bowery bums" will always have the music to soothe the pain. But what's the music without the pain? And what good is life if you can't hurt every now and then?
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