Tags
1960s, 2014, 8*, ageing, beauty, breakdown, breathing, Canada, clouds, Dionne Warwick, Dylan, emptiness, friendship, identity, Jeff Beck, Joni Mitchell, letter, life, love, meaning, music, pointlessness, school, sun, thinking, time, tonglen
letter 080514
I haven’t forgotten you
even though six months
suddenly seem to have gone
I hope you are still healing
I am reminded to send healing
I will do this NOW while breathing …
at 11:05 am local time (you will have had got this early this morning
it will help with the sic-ness)
thoughts of you bubbled up
when I caught an interview with Joni Mitchell
as she talked a little about Saskatchewan –
she is so beautiful
she has embraced growing old:
she cannot sing now – phht – she accepts it
she paints (she said of Dylan that he has
disappeared behind his mask
(I may be slow about this – I’ve never really ‘got’ Dylan
but it is such a relief – somehow – to know this))
she still – still! – smokes, she accepts it
she still stops
and gazes away a little when answering a new question not having thought
everything she needs to ‘in her time’; I do love that woman
I wish I lived round the corner from her
I could drop in and see her
when I’ve lost my way
(you can tell I have never been to Canada
and have no idea what I am talking about)
I am still wafting around emptiness as if I was a cloud
I have been back at school for almost a year now
but I keep ‘crashing’ (“… in the same car … hotel garage
… must have been touching close to 94” now
c’mon, where does this one come from?)
I have odd days
where I cannot get out of the door
(all dressed up and packed lunch)
I wish I could just step off the clouds
but I think they are solid and I’d fall
(a pity
I could have such fun being a cloud
if I didn’t take it all so solidly)
(where’s that sun when you need it most?)
still, there is always … Jeff Beck:
I have been noticing his odd stabs and curves
shaft through the clouds
every once in a while
and then there is always … Dionne Warwick
octave-ing as she steps
breathless and lingering
through the early morning of the sixties
I must remember all of this
I tend to forget it all when the clouds get too dark …
… thanks for listening; oh, Paddy, I think I’ve found my way
vibes,
mlewis
————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–
beauty wormhole: my life is not your market
breakdown & life & pointlessness wormhole: silent crash // … / after all
clouds wormhole: tag cloud poem IV – C
Dionne Warwick wormhole: 1966
emptiness wormhole: poessay VII: // true revolution
identity & love wormhole: the pocket
Joni Mitchell wormhole: Joni Mitchell
meaning wormhole: words
music wormhole: someone called Frank
school wormhole: just saying, is all – III
sun wormhole: a splash of fresh water
thinking wormhole: plethora: the Dark Knight Strikes Again (2002)
time wormhole: the straight line of stones marking the geometry / of death / settle all their own levels over time to make / a new rhythm
mlewisredford 
I’ve never lived in Canada either … but, I’ll pretend that what you said is perfectly reasonable. It makes poetic sense.
I do love Joni … I’ve always had sort of the same fantasy: dropping by for some coffee and cigarettes.
(And, you know what? I’ve never gotten Dylan either. Oh, sure, some of his songs are quite good — and are usually much better when song by someone else.)
And … Dionne. I do love her. Especially 60s and 70s Dionne. Then she went all psychic-phoneline and, well …. eeew.
I’m hoping you are finding your way my friend. These roads sometimes get so dark. There may not always be a bright light … but, sometimes the moonlight is enough to guide us through.
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I see what you did there, John, in that last paragraph; it was nice talking with you … in this cafe, cups cluttering, but I think we’re going to have to face it: Joni’s not going to turn up … maybe she doesn’t live in Canada anymore *colon semi-colon*
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