Revelation Big Sur

"and through the rhythm of the timeless season...."
-Mark Kozelek

My favorite flower is in bloom, the daffodil. Their yellow heads are leaning over the monkeygrass in my front lawn, a tired but bright morning greeting as I head out to my car.

When I was a child, my father would take me to a place, just outside Bluff City, called Sonneman's Cabin. It was a getaway for an attorney from my father's practice, two generations before his time. In my tiny blond head, it was like a dream. The two room structure was set in a field of green and yellow, daffodils as far as the eye could see. I would run off into the woods and come back, small fragile arms overflowing with butter colored blossoms and bluebells. We drove back there every year, to take pictures, just to catch a glimpse of this lovely vision of spring.

When I was old enough to drive, through high school, college, and ever after, I would find myself traveling the winding back road to the cabin, after school, on the weekends, late at night. The clear moonlit sky would cast an eerie glow on those golden heads, wavering in the night air. I'd sit in my car and listen to Mark Kozelek, America, Glen Phillips, weaving together ghost stories through each turn of the guitar, brought from the dark corners of the barn across the way, midnight tales of love and death and eternal longing. I never asked my father of Sonneman. I never was told a truth about this small place. I was afraid of it, that my father's plain sense would knock my sensibilities off of the face of the landscape. "He just had a green thumb," would be his answer. And all of those stories I had written, all of those songs in my head of devoted tribute to a lost love and glorifying the paths that she once walked would wither into such a short sentence.

It's been five years since last I drove down that road. 500 miles away, I can still see it, clear and quiet. Maybe I'll ask a friend from home to search it out, as soon as the Midwest winter thaws. Darren, I know how you love driving those back roads. Are you up for the task?

It's a rainy day here in Birmingham. A dark day. The cars are flying by on the overpass by my window, their headlights a waterfall of light.

Mister Murray Lightburn: I still don't love you. I gave you another chance on the drive in to work this morning. My heart never turned your direction. It stayed curving through traffic, from lane to lane, and then on into the morning.

Maybe someday.

Friday - yadirF

It's Friday night. I could be out, celebrating the fact that I've finished the week. I could be sitting in joyful banter at the end of a bar. Instead this evening, I sat wrapped in quilt at the cusp of the fireplace, my father sitting back in his chair across the room, our eyes staid on the screen of the tv. Kermit and Miss Piggy walked down the aisle, singing to each other. The colors of Jim Henson's creations lept from the screen. I turned to my father and smiled. In the darkness of the living room, I saw his glowing grin, his laughter that rolled through his entire torso. Our eyes met and we looked to the other chair. My mother turned, afghan spread across her lap, hand to chin, sleep drowning out every bit of jumping Muppet exclamation to be heard.

We watched the Illusionist. I found myself moving closer to the television as the story progressed, until I ended up sitting directly in front of it. I didn't catch the smell of cookies in the air, nor did I notice at all when my father placed a bowl of chocolate chip cookies and ice cream in my hand. I ate it, completely entranced, and in a moment, I looked down at my bowl. Magically, it was gone.

**************************************************

"You didn't like the last album, so you're going to just write them off entirely?"
Travis held up the latest Dears album, eyebrow cocked. I could feel my face screwing up into the expression I give my mother when we're out shopping and she holds up a shirt.
I nodded to the affirmative. He sighed. We were standing across the cd rack from one another at Schoolkids last Saturday afternoon, each with an armful of cds.

The Dears? I couldn't help it. I was let down. Stratis, Kristin the Canadian's best friend, had played them for me almost two years before, a few of their previous albums...I found that the tracks were dripping with warm tones and catchy beats and I was hooked. So on a trip soon after to the House of Karls in Nashville, I flung aside my usual affliction of Buyers Amnesia (which I have said before, even though I complain about it, I totally enjoy) as I entered Grimey's Music, and laid down pretty much the last of my trip cash for No Cities Left. When I pulled out onto I-65 to make the journey home, I threw in the CD and after a few tracks, began to slowly die inside.

I did enjoy one track, which I included on my 2005 Life Soundtrack CD, but only because I enjoyed singing harmonies on the song. Maybe my expectations were too high.* Maybe I have terrible taste in music. Maybe I have incredible hearing loss. * Maybe I have lost all sense of reason.

***************************************

The Dexateens Show
Hardwire Healing CD Release
The 40 Watt, Athens, Georgia

Holy Hell. The Rock and Roll.









Check out Nathan's pics from the show