Wednesday, June 14, 2017

Bob Dylan's prize tips









 


Bob Dylan flew in to have cocktails with me just this last Thursday. Regardless of all his fame and money and such, it's very touching to have someone fly for two hours just to have a drink with me. I think he was coming from New Hampshire and returning to Vermont, maybe? It's a bit odd that he doesn't think of paying for our drinks, I mean after all the trouble and expense he's already going to. But we go dutch. I think it would offend his code to pay. Don't get me started on his code. 

We were at a cocktail house called Du Nord. We both had variations on a drink called "The Last Word". This is a drink built around the French Liqueur Green Chartreuse. Green Chartreuse is a brilliant and beautiful drink made by Monks, Monks who live up near the Mountains. Or maybe it just used to be made by them. They say it's made of 130 herbs and spices. It tastes like it.


"You know what's great about Green Chartreuse, I mean, besides the taste?" Bob asked rhetorically, so I didn't interrupt. "It's twice as expensive as any other good liqueur, and it's complicated. So you know if a bar uses it they probably have conviction."


"Also it's really strong." I added.


"A hundred and ten proof." He said, nodding his head.


"Hey, I got something for you." I said, remembering, and digging in my pocket. "There!" I cried, spreading a wrinkled newspaper article out before him.


"What's this?" He asked suspiciously, not making the slightest move in his chair.


"Songwriting tips!"


"No, I'm good." Bob said.


"There's some good stuff in there." I said encouragingly, pulling back the article. "Look at this one. Number two: Lyrics matter. Taylor Swift says her experience with song writing is usually so confessional."


"You don't say." Bob sipped his drink.


"Number eight is "Don't overthink it"."


"I know how to write a song." Bob said cooly.


"It's been awhile." I responded.


"I've been busy winning Nobel Prizes."


"Oh, yeah?" 


"For lit-er-a-ture." Bob enunciated grandly, swirling and admiring his third cocktail.


"I'd like to win a Nobel Prize." I said.


"Yeah, yeah." Bob tossed off.


"Do you have any tips?"


And Bob just laughed.














4 comments:

  1. Moby Feldenstein..........http://kunstler.com/clusterfuck-nation/moby-trump/

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I linked. I read. But your comment coupled with your anonymity provides too little context for me to understand what point you are trying to make or what connection you mean to highlight to my above piece; Superficial? Critical? Grave? For kicks?

      I'd be delighted to know and I let your "comment" stand in hopes you or someone else might solve the puzzle for me.

      Delete


  2. “Sometimes it's not enough to know what things mean, sometimes you have to know what things don't mean as well.” Bob Zimmy Dylan

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I do appreciate this comment very much, and it shines its light, but I thought we agreed, Bob, that when you commented here you would do it under your own name.

      Still, thank you. All cleared up now. As the famous saying goes: "I'll let you be in my dreams if I can be in yours."

      Delete

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