Mr. Tambourine Man

I was listening to Bob Dylan on the bus and I had to laugh. I thought about so many years ago, I was living with my mom. Me and Kyle were on the skids. I was really depressed. I would sit on the floor of my room and listen to Bob Dylan, specifically Mr. Tambourine Man. I would wait until close to the last verse and crack a whip-it. Then I would be all woozy and get to listen to my favorite verse.

Then take me disappearin' through the smoke rings of my mind,
Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves,
The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach,
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow.
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free,
Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands,
With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves,
Let me forget about today until tomorrow.

It was fun. I wish had a whip-it.

I don't know what's worse that I did this or that I think it is funny and would do it again in a hurry if I had the supplies.

Still my roof has got no ceiling

One minute your doing perfectly harmless paper crafts and you think what a good idea it would be to listen to music. The next thing you know you are listening to that music and thinking about the boy that turned you on... to it. Then you are thinking about that boy, that summer. There is always a smile. But you just have to wonder.... is he okay? Is he in love? Does he have a wife or kids? A steady job? Will I ever find out? I hope he is good, because he did a great thing for me. He made me feel incredible about myself at a time when your young and unsure of yourself. Sometimes the wonder of life really touches me. Just the way people and relationships mold your life. Well, wherever you are, thank you. I sincerely hope you find something really great out there.

Early morning edit: Henry DeTamble reminds me of him. This is probably the reason I love The Time Traveler's Wife the way I do. I think it is the dark hair, light eyes phenomenon.

That summer always leads to thinking about Corley. It was a great summer. The very best summer of my life, in a way that was so carefree. I had so much fun.

and some days it feels like nothing
it always used to feel like plenty.

"Time and tears went by, and I collected dust. For there were many things I didn't know."

A series of things has been weighing me down.

A couple of weeks ago me and my mom went to Dallas to see her step grandmother, I guess. Her son was married to my grandmother. He died after they had two little girls together. He fell off a horse and broke his leg. While he was in surgery he died. I'm not sure why. But that was before I was born. Cordella is 94. Her daughter said that we should visit because she wasn't sure there was going to be much more opportunity. They have been saying that for over three years. We went to visit, but without much urgency. She lives in a nursing home on busy street in Plano. She has her own room with a window. when we walked in she was watching television. We went with one of my mom's sisters and Cordella's daughter. Cordella looked at me and my mom, her face scrunched up, trying to figure out who we were. Her daughter told her and it didn't seem to ring any bells, but she smiled at us and we held her hand. She looked at my mom's sister and recognized her from when she was there last. My mom had put together this little album of her favorite pictures for Cordella. The first picture was of Cordella and her husband. It was taken at least 15 years ago, since her husband has been dead for that long maybe 20. She turns the first page and is immediately confused. "Who is this?" she asks. So, everyone tries to explain that the man standing next to her looking down happily is her husband, Alex. Still nothing. So they kept going, her daughter telling her that was her father, your husband. Then she looked up and said, "I'm confused." It was as if all the air was sucked out of the room. She was married to him for fifty years. Not only could she not recognize him, she couldn't recognize herself in the picture. In further pictures she couldn't recognize her grand kids. All I could think about is, "What goes through her mind? What does she have to live for? She doesn't even know who her family is? Why does this happen to people?" After looking at the pictures for a while and everyone trying to explain who everyone was she said, "Looking at these pictures scares me. I think I am getting old."

Funny how being old ravages a body. Once, a substantial woman of 5'7" (at least), she lay in that hospital bed looking the embodiment of frail. She weighed less than a hundred pounds. She had numerous bed sores from not being able to walk. Her papery skin was pulled taught over the bones in her face making her features very sharp. Most of her teeth were gone. She had a hard time holding her head up straight.

I was walking along quite nicely, then life sneaks up behind me and slaps me in the back of the head. It pitched me forward and I haven't quite caught my balance.

Not long after that I was at work I happen to be working the register to cover some one's break. It was slow and a youngish, attractive woman comes and puts her items on the counter. Just a few things nothing big. Before I even started ringing her stuff up an old Jewish looking lady who frequents the store enough for me to recognize her came up behind her. She tells the young woman that it looks like she will be doing something interesting. The woman replies, but does not look up, "Yeah, we just lost our little son. So I have to have something to keep me busy." The first part was so clear and without emotion that I thought she may have misspoke. Then her voice broke and I knew she didn't. The comment shocked me so. I know my jaw hung and I don't remember much of the conversation except that she said the only place she finds peace is at the cemetery and she was crying. It was all to much for me to handle. I don't know what is worse the fact that her young son died or that she felt she had to tell a stranger in the checkout line.

The next thing happened in rapid succession. Kyle calls me right before work and tells me that out vacation might be off. I am thinking maybe his sister and her boyfriend are fighting and he tells me that her boyfriend's father died. He wasn't old. He was having some mild paralysis in his legs. the doctors did some tests. They found he had a staff infection in his spine. He went into surgery to have the infection removed and a blood clot came loose from not walking and killed him instantly. On the way to work I started thinking about dying and the infinite blackness that could follow until I am so deep into this thought that it makes me feel sick. It was as if all at once my organs orchestrated a revolt and on the count of three they all tried to slam up against their cage to get out.

I feel myself getting old everyday. They aren't big things. It isn't like driving down a hill with no breaks or anything. But rather, it is like that noise when you are all alone in the house. The house is very silent so it startles you and the dogs. You don't know where it came from or what it was. The dogs run off towards the noise and you wait. When your courage is gathered you walk slowly to it, but there is nothing there. Only your imagination.

The story of my life

I was tipsy last night and thought of this story. It pretty much sums up my entire childhood. My grandfather was a bail bondsmen one of his best friends was a lawyer. The lawyer later became my mother's boyfriend for about 11 years or so. He was a good friend of the whole family and this was our first meeting. My grandfather died 11 years ago. The anniversary was a month ago. I had been thinking about other stories for days and days. I decided to post this one in hopes of purging it from the steel trap it is on the verge of getting stuck in.

The story begins:

A bail bondsmen and a lawyer walk into a bar. The bar is Ego's in Austin at Riverside and Congress, I believe, circa 1990. They take seats at different tables. In walks the bail bondsmen's daughter with her daughter. Everyone sits at his table and is laughing and talking. The bail bondsmen asks his granddaughter to come over to him, because he has something to say to her. He was sort of well know in the bar for a number of things, but mainly his sense of humor. So there were a few sideways glances when he whispered something into the ear of his 7 year old granddaughter. (Now picture this part in slow motion) The little girl hears what he has to say and nods knowingly. Maybe she gives him a wink. (That didn't really happen I just thought it would be cool.) Still in slow motion, she walks up to the lawyer. The bar falls silent. The little girl tells the lawyer that she can count to three. Obviously she can count to three. She can read at this point. The lawyer is totally uninterested in anything she has to say. So she asks you want to hear? The lawyer obliges her though he noticeably doesn't want to. The little girl does just as she was told and stomps her foot three times like someone has taught a horse to count. Laughter. Lots of laughter after that. I don't think I get it even still, but boy they thought it was the funniest thing on the face of the Earth. It continued to be a joke, while they were still alive anyways.

I haven't thought about this in years and years. I remember it like it was yesterday. The things I remember most are the colors. The bar was incredibly amber. Somehow amber light oozed out of the pores of the walls. My grandfather's hair was pretty red a little on the brown side. The lawyer's hair was stark white. I was fascinated by the jukebox. It was right by the door and next to that was a cigarette machine that was just as equally fascinating. The things you remember.

I miss sailing

I miss water in general. I never do watery things enough. It sort of hurts my heart.



It makes me feel like this.

"I was alone I took a right. I didn't know what I would find there."

When I was a kid I loved The Beatles. I still do. In particular, my favorite song was Yellow Submarine. I have no idea why. It sort of sounds like a kid song I guess. My favorite line even to this day (I am listening to Revolver in my car now) is, "And we live a life of ease. Everyone of us has all we need. Sky of blue and sea of green in our Yellow Submarine" and then there is this yell that I really like.

I also really liked Sam Cooked as a kid. I still do. Now, his music isn't very kid like. In the summers I went to daycare at my private Baptist school. I would take my Walkman and a Best of Sam Cooke tape my mom had and listen to it most of the day. It was awesome. At said private school they once called my parents cause I was singing one of my other favorites. It is called Tweeter and the Monkey Man by the Travelling Wilburys.

Tweeter and the monkey man were hard up for cash
They stayed up all night selling cocaine and hash
To an undercover cop who had a sister named Jan
For reasons unexplained she loved the monkey man

Tweeter was a boy scout before she went to Vietnam
And found out the hard way nobody gives a damn
They knew that they found freedom just across the jersey line
So they hopped into a stolen car took highway 99

(chorus)
And the walls came down all the way to hell
Never saw them when they're standing
Never saw them when they fell

The undercover cop never liked the monkey man
Even back in childhood he wanted to see him in the can
Jan got married at fourteen to a racketeer named bill
She made secret calls to the monkey man from a mansion on the hill

It was out on thunder road - tweeter at the wheel
They crashed into paradise - they could hear them tires squeal
The undercover cop pulled up and said everyone of yous a liar
If you don't surrender now its gonna go down to the wire

(chorus)

An ambulance rolled up - a state trooper close behind
Tweeter took his gun away and messed up his mind
The undercover cop was left tied up to a tree
Near the souvenir stand by the old abandoned factory

Next day the undercover cop was hot in pursuit
He was taking the whole thing personal
He didn't care about the loot
Jan had told him many times it was you to me who taught
In jersey anythings legal as long as you don't get caught

(chorus)

Someplace by rahway prison they ran out of gas
The undercover cop had cornered them said boy, you didn't
Think that this could last
Jan jumped out of bed said there's someplace I gotta go
She took a gun out of the drawer and said its best if you don't know

The undercover cop was found face down in a field
The monkey man was on the river bridge using Tweeter as a shield
Jan said to the monkey man I'm not fooled by tweeters curl
I knew him long before he ever became a jersey girl

(chorus)

Now the town of jersey city is quieting down again
I'm sitting in a gambling club called the lions den
The TV set been blown up, every bit of it is gone
Ever since the nightly news show that the monkey man was on

I guess Ill go to Florida and get myself some sun
There ain't no more opportunity here, everything's been done
Sometime I think of tweeter, sometime I think of Jan
Sometime I don't think about nothing but the monkey man

I didn't get in trouble or anything. They were the ones listening to it. Doing drugs, transvestites, shooting cops, stealing, gambling, all those things in one song. You can imagine how it went over at the Baptist school when I was five.

I love band aids

"As I peer through the window of lost time. Looking over my yesterdays"

I feel like this might be a response to Casey's blog. Not that it has anything to do with it, though I did think about this story when I read "I hate band aids"

Well, when I was a kid I loved band aids. I thought it was a great idea to wear a band aid on my nose. Almost like one of those snoring things. I was probably three give or take a year. Some of my earliest memories are of people, like my brother or my mom, trying to get me to take the band aid off.

This is making my crack up. I was so weird. Okay, let me get my composure.

I wasn't terribly interested in wearing the band aid forever, it was just that once it was on I didn't want anybody to take it off 'cause it would hurt. Though I knew good and well it would have to come off eventually. As soon as someone would take it off, bam, I would put on another one. There is a picture floating around of me with a band aid on my nose.

While I was laughing, I remember something else I did as a kid. I loved my parents laundry basket. I would bring the laundry basket into the living room, sit in it, and watch tv. Sometimes, I would put a pillow in there, behind my back. What possess children? I have to say if that laundry basket was still around and I could fit in it I would sit in it. I eventually broke it cause I was too big for it. It was an oval shape. I could sit in it with my legs straight and lean back. It was great. Then the plastic started to crack from all that leaning and pulling.

Oh, the good ol' days.