I Wanna be Someone Who Believes.
When Adam Duritz asks if I’ve seen him lately, I’m staring right at him but I know what he’s asking so I don’t say anything. A few years ago he was out on the radio just starting to change and a few years after that I was doing the same thing in Art Houses and festivals and in your living room.
And when he says he doesn’t need anyone I know he’s lying because I’m lying, too.
When he says, “Somewhere out in America it’s raining” I expect the sky to open up at his command. If anyone could control the weather with his words it would be him (or Destro).
Can I tell you one thing I remember about you, sir? I can tell you a hundred things.
I could paint you a picture. I could paint you in blue and red and black and grey.
Adam and I have a strange relationship considering the fact that we’ve never met. This is going to sound completely fucked, I know, but the way I feel about him, it’s the way I’ve felt about a couple of the girls who walk around trailing pieces of me like a kill. He’s like a girlfriend. I know it’s fucked up but when he’s happy, I’m happy. When he tells me “I’m very much in love these days,” I think, oh, sweet, we’re in love. I wonder who we’re in love with. When he’s excited, it is infectious.
When he tells me to make my eyes empty circles I think, I’m way ahead of you, brother.
And Michael Franti, what can I say? I like a song about war crimes with a beat I can dance to. Or, as Mr. Mcpheely pointed out, overturn a police car to.
I saw the man moonwalk barefoot during a medley of Jacko songs. Barefoot. A feet I didn’t think possible.
I went to an epic show Friday.
Epic the way you mean it. Three and a half hours of rock and jumping and dancing with strangers. Three and a half hours of Crows and Franti and Dylan and Guthrie and Stones and Grateful Dead and cute Jamaican chicks and whiskey and ten dollar Bud Lights and when they all came together to sing Redemption Song, at least for those few minutes, I was redeemed.
I saw the Saturday Night Rebel Rockers Traveling Circus and Medicine Show a few days ago. And it was fresh. To. Death.
Get a beverage of your choice and scatter me, please,
E
I wanna be a lion…
August 26th, 2009 at 3:38 am
Your messed up relationship with Duritz is paralleled by my messed up relationship with Franti. It’s like he’s the black father that I never had, and I’m the white son that he never wanted.
August 28th, 2009 at 5:44 am
I commented. Tried it three times, actually. But it won’t post it.
August 29th, 2009 at 10:36 am
I found out what the problem was. If anyone is wondering, I had called him g a y. But that is a word that has been blocked. However, in this case I feel it is totally appropriate.