Wrong Side

 

Well, sir, it's cold. I knew that. Of course they're all driving on the wrong side of the road and I expected that, too. I mean, I've been here. Every exchange attempting to settle a bill leaves me holding out a few notes and all the change from my pocket. Sometimes Kate helps me. The fact that all attempts to settle in quickly become Monty Python episodes will keep me humble forever. I may be hit by a bus from the right at any moment. I can't become one of them until I have a bank account. I can't get a bank account without presenting a utility bill. I can't open a utility account if I don't have a bank account to pay my utility bill.

Stay tuned. I'm nothing if not tenacious. Sorry.

Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.

Union Jacks and Hot Rods

 

I've been trying to get to England since 1965. Oh, I've been a few times. I've played and toured there. I've visited friends. I'm finally going to live there in any way that the immigration folks see fit. It's taking some doing, to be honest.

Parting with things that I considered holy has been odd. Objects that I would not have thought would ever leave my presence. Turns out it's easy. Stuff is just stuff after all.

People? Well, that's rougher. Folks promise that they will visit. Maybe they will. I will surely be taking the memories that we share.

It's new memories that I'm going for. I've got new songs to write and everything that I want to write about is over there. My heart has it right. I couldn't be happier. I couldn't be luckier.

Hillbilly Lotharios & Posh Angels

Elvis died with about five million bucks in the bank and lots of debt. I remember worrying about his finances. Here, the King of Rock'n'Roll lay dead as a doornail, at peace for the first time since 1956, and I fretted about his financial affairs. 

Seems I've always agonized over other folks' money problems. Mine? Not so much.

There have been times when I have had a few bucks squirreled away and times, more times, where I have lived paycheck to paycheck. Keep in mind that I write hillbilly songs. I don't get many paychecks. Oh, I've swept floors, scooped mud, peddled real estate, written newspaper columns, fought pollution, promoted concerts and indulged in other activities that kept the wolf from the door for periods of time between big hit records. Truthfully, I'm a little tired of waiting for a big hit record.

Somehow, I've never figured out this quest for gold, records or otherwise. I collect parrot jokes. Doesn't require any license, wardrobe or degree. I keep rocks. I've built up a lifetime's fantasies and I'm working to indulge every last one. None of them involve money.

I've got the best life in the world. Sometimes I lose a little sleep over your economic well-being.

Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.

 

Maybe If I Dream It

If I could do it all over, I'd be kinder. Softer. Oh, I suppose I've done alright. I mean I could have done worse. 

I wish I had played more slow songs, more tunes in waltz time.

I should have listened a lot more and talked a lot less. It's not as though I've had a lot of important information to disseminate. There's that one line that I took from Lottie and that's about it. My act, my repertoire. Well, I steal from the best- you've gotta give me that.

Maybe I've learned to love right. Lottie showed me that, too, but I probably took it for granted while she was here. The dogs and the cats took up the slack.

Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.

 

 

Trips To The Attic

All thoughts are random until they get strung together with others. Most of mine remain at least slightly obtuse even then. Here are a few of today's.

Religions always go with the good colors. Saffron robes, pink and purple pope get-ups. Why do they dress the nuns in black?

If we let the public know that billionaires in the US don't pay taxes and that our taxes go mostly for war to benefit the billionaires, don't they suspect that lots of people are gonna cheat and lie when tax time rolls around?

If you don't believe in a creator, you might as well enjoy the carnal delights with gusto and without guilt, right? If you do believe in a creator, surely you don't think that She designed reproduction of the species requiring something sinful. Do you?

Oh, I could go on, as you know. I would like to say that I have better things to do. I don't. It's just that short attention span.

 

Mr. Universe and Miss Understanding

Which is more elusive, time or love? Can either concept be defined? Is there any kind of relationship between the two?

We over-thinkers generally have more questions than answers.

All my life I've waited for what I have now. It's been a great life. Can you imagine how miserable I would have been if I had known that I was waiting? If I had driven faster or if I had not dropped logic, everything would be different. If I had slept later two or three times, if I had not played that last show at the Borderline or if I had not bought that pair of shoes, I would be coasting in the wrong gear.

If James Grissom had not written Follies Of God or if I had not read it, and if I had not banged on the door like a madman as the sun was coming up to "explain" it, I would have missed my entire purpose.

Do I believe in magic? It's all magic, buddy.

 

Check The Oil

If someone shows you who you are, believe them. 

"I've never seen you look so happy."

"You seem to glow, somehow."

"That doesn't sound like you."

All those t-shirt sayings turn out to be true. The Hallmark wishes, too. Remember all those good wishes that your pals left in your yearbook? I would recommend patience but that would be wildly hypocritical. Maybe I should suggest, just wait. Follow all the paths marked "LOVE."