Overnight two bright threads were added to the tapestry of electronic communications that illuminates my life. Dean Landsman, whose Manila site has gone mysteriously white with no intention on his part, was kind enough to copy me on a message to Golby pointing to a literary criticism of Dylan (Bob not Thomas) appearing in this weeks NYT Sunday Book Review. Dean talked about driving up the FDR Drive on the way to the George Washington Bridge when these lyrics popped into his mind…
She’s got everything she needs
She’s an artist
She don’t look back
She can take the dark out of nighttime
And paint the daytime black.
Last time those lyrics appeared unbidden in my mind I was thinking of Janis and how I’d swiped the Victorian lampshade for her out of the landlord’s garage out there in the avenues between Balboa and Cabrillo where we shared a little cottage between the rows of Richmond District houses. Of course she never belonged to me.
Then, in one of those not too amazing synchronous events, appearing mysteriously out of the night, came this post by Locke. Credit to Mike Golby for keeping our consciences and ropmantic sensibilities alive through the allusive use of Dylan lyrics.
Thanks Dean, for the link to the review. Thanks Chris, for the sweet posting. Oh… and watch your parking meters, both of you.
Mike, what the fuck are we going to do about the Sudan?