Saturday, September 17, 2005

Most Of The Time


Why lyrics come to mind these days, I don't know.

But they do.

I mean, I've got a whole drawer-full of freshly-pressed adjectives, and yet I end up being drawn to songs and pictures. Maybe it's lack of sleep, or feeling blue, or something deep in the DNA that pulls me to our own, native narrative poetry when the stakes feels so high and the tragedy feels so deep.

Whatever the reason, I heard Dylan's mournful ballad -- "Most Of The Time" -- again a few days ago, and almost as an audience to my own weird imagination, saw as the meaning of the song inverted itself in my head like a whale doing a slow roll, and snapped into an altogther different focus.

And wouldn't leave me be.

That's one of the pesky things about writing that writers don't talk about very much: that ideas often just strut right up and grab you by the lapel. They don't give a shit about what you wanted to write, and won't leave you alone until you exorcise it onto paper.

Which would be fine if such espisodes of compulsive "character possession" were preludes to wonderfulness but, often as not, they come out dumb or flat or just blah.

But that's just the way it goes.

So this from Bob Dylan from 1989, with pictures from here and now.

==============================================

Most of the time

I'm clear focused all around,


Most of the time

I can keep both feet on the ground,


I can follow the path,

I can read the signs,


Stay right with it,

when the road unwinds,


I can handle

whatever I stumble upon,


I don't even notice she's gone,

Most of the time.



Most of the time

It's well understood,


Most of the time

I wouldn't change it if I could,


I can't make it all match up

I can hold my own,


I can deal with the situation

right down to the bone

I can survive,

I can endure


And I don't even think about her

Most of the time.


Most of the time

My head is on straight,


Most of the time

I'm strong enough not to hate.


I don't build up illusion

'till it makes me sick,


I ain't afraid of confusion

no matter how thick


I can smile in the face of mankind.



Don't even remember

what her lips felt like on mine.

Most of the time.


Most of the time

She ain't even in my mind,

I wouldn't know her if I saw her

She's that far behind.


Most of the time

I can't even be sure


If she was ever with me


Or if I was with her.



Most of the time

I'm halfway content,


Most of the time

I know exactly where I went,


I don't cheat on myself,

I don't run and hide,

Hide from the feelings,

that are buried inside,


I don't compromise



And I don't pretend,



I don't even care

if I ever see her again

Most of the time.

21 comments:

Anonymous said...

Makes me cry for what might have been.

Most of the time.

jurassicpork said...

To paraphrase The Joker, "Where does he get those marvelous jpegs?!"

Is this a new art form? Now you got me doing it, Drifty (although Jet's lyrics aren't nearly as profound as Pink Floyd's).

An Angry Old Broad said...

Well damn,you made me cry again Drifty.Sometimes my anger just gives way to grief,and then I feel like I could cry forever.But tears fix nothing,if they did,mine would have made quite a dent by now.

Anonymous said...

That song chokes me up more than any one I know ... a beautiful interpretation, my friend ...

P

Anonymous said...

Like so many others, I would love to hear it with the music. By the way, how come no one has mentioned the binocular shot? Man, stupid is as stupid does!
Once again, another terrific post, Driftglass. Salud.

Anonymous said...

Where's Joe Max? I haven't spent enough on prescriptions this month yet. Goddamn it, you guys are artists. (Sobbing, reaching for Ativan bottle....).

Know what? Single malt scotch helps too!! I recommend "The Glenlivet".

(Feeling like Rush, only 100 lbs. lighter, exiting stage.)

Did I say THAT?? HELP!!!

Anonymous said...

that is brliiant--i know cause i am brilliant most of the rhyme--tombyrne@walla.com--wrote a protest song---

PRAISE THE SWORD

THOM BYRNE-COPYRIGHT 2005

DANCE AND KNEEL/AROUND AN ALTAR/
OF BRIGHT BLACK STEEL/YOUR PASSION
FOR THE TRIGGER/IS HARD TO CONCEAL/DO IT FOR FREEDOM AND DEMOCRACY/DO IT FOR THE MUSLIM LORD/CHECK THE CALIBER OF YOUR BULLETS/AND PRAISE THE SWORD/YOU CREATE A WAR/NEVER SAID WHAT FOR /AND TAUNT ME WITH A LITTLE TRUTH/YOU PUBLICLY CONSOLE THE WIDO/TELL ME HER SACRIFICE/IS YOUR PROOF/STRIKE QUICKLY TO QUELL THE SOUND/OF A WOMAN PLEADING/OFFER UP MORE BLOOD/TO STOP THE BLEEDIN/TAKE THE SAFETY OFF YOUR GUN/WHILE I STRIKE THIS CHORD/TURN YOURSELF INTO A WEAPON/PRAISE THE SWORD --BRIDGE--YOU ARE THE SHADOW'S SHADOW/NAILE YOURSELF TO A CROSS OF PERFECT HATE/YOU CLAIM TO KNOW EARTH'S HEAVEN AND TRADED ANOTHER LIFE FOR YOUR FATE/--AND THERE WILL BE A VICTORY/YOU'LL PLANT YOUR FLAG INTO A CORPSE/YOU'LL TELL THE WORLD YOU'VE PROVEN/THE RIGHTEOUSNESS OF FORCE/AND YOU DID IT FOR THE DESERT
PRICE/YOU DID IT FOR FREEDOM AND YOUR LORD/DID IT TO PRESERVE ALL INNOCENCE/RAISE THE PRICE OF OIL/PRAISE THE SWORD/PRAISE THE SWORD.

Anonymous said...

"SO WHAT IF I LOVE LOOKING AT LITTLE BOYS?????????, I'M BORED WITH LAURA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Anonymous said...

.....And he must like Terry Lundgren's juicy Swedish longjohn, HO-HO!!!!!!!!!!!!!.

Anonymous said...

Landjager??????????????????.

Anonymous said...

MMMMM!! I need my Jimmy/Jeff. Where's my Jimmy/Jeff when I need him. Karl is so bitchy now I don't want him anymore. Laura? No way. I want some man stuff now.

Anonymous said...

ROFLMAO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!.

Anonymous said...

MOST OF THE TIME...
I'M NOT SURE I UNDERSTAND
IS IT THE MAN TO LEAD US SOMEWHERE
OR SATAN ON A PRESIDENTIAL BAND

THEY DON'T EVEN MIND
EVEN THOUGH THEY KNOW
HE EVER CHEATS ON HUMAN KIND
ALL OF THE TIME!!!!

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