Summer in Saratoga at Café Lena for round 2 with Joan Osborne

I fell out of love and into reality with this goddess of soulful sweet elocution. The words become charged messages of hope, despair, love and loss — pain and joy –……  you know —– life

 

More specifically:

Adult  ….  grown up life.

No young person angst — this is vintage, weathered acceptance of what is and what was.

I’m not calling anyone old here —– I know the track of years – I know the shared fight of quiet despair as we plunge through to new layers of time.

Inevitable

not calling it good, bad or indifferent — got plenty of all three.

And that’s what I got with another dose of Dylan Music.

 

One song destroyed me (again)

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Tryin’ to Get to Heaven

 

The air is getting hotter
There’s a rumbling in the skies
I’ve been wading through the high muddy water
With the heat rising in my eyes
Every day your memory grows dimmer
It doesn’t haunt me like it did before
I’ve been walking through the middle of nowhere
Trying to get to heaven before they close the door

 

When I was in Missouri
They would not let me be
I had to leave there in a hurry
I only saw what they let me see
You broke a heart that loved you
Now you can seal up the book and not write anymore
I’ve been walking that lonesome valley
Trying to get to heaven before they close the door

 

People on the platforms
Waiting for the trains
I can hear their hearts a-beatin’
Like pendulums swinging on chains
When you think that you lost everything
You find out you can always lose a little more
I’m just going down the road feeling bad
Trying to get to heaven before they close the door

 

I’m going down the river
Down to New Orleans
They tell me everything is gonna be all right
But I don’t know what “all right” even means
I was riding in a buggy with Miss Mary-Jane
Miss Mary-Jane got a house in Baltimore
I been all around the world, boys
Now I’m trying to get to heaven before they close the door

 

Gonna sleep down in the parlor
And relive my dreams
I’ll close my eyes and I wonder
If everything is as hollow as it seems
Some trains don’t pull no gamblers
No midnight ramblers, like they did before
I been to Sugar Town, I shook the sugar down
Now I’m trying to get to heaven before they close the door

 

Bob Dylan

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She came out between shows to sell merchandise – I know its part of the job — but still – an honor to share a few words and have her sign my record. This song probably not written about grief; and the resulting complete annihilation of the soul. — but this night it was — but also healing in a way —- yeah  –

Music is like that.

Again, cheers from the cave!