I was having a drink with Bob Dylan. It probably seems like I have drinks with Bob Dylan a lot because of how much I write about it here. But we just have drinks occasionally and I write several essays about each time we do.
Anyway, we were pretty thick in it with Cognacs. Bob looked up from his snifter and said "I was thinking of retiring to Becketwood."
Becketwood is a retirement home on the Mississippi River here. I mean, it seems very nice, but not the sort of place one would go if one had, for instance, two hundred million dollars.
"It seems really nice." I said. "But it doesn't seem like the sort of place one would go if one had, for instance, two hundred million dollars."
"I don't have two hundred million dollars." Bob said a bit sullenly.
"A hundred fifty million then."
Bob had no counter to that.
We sipped cognac.
"I don't think you've dealt with the wage slave service industry so much, uh, lately." I observed. "You might prefer a more bespoke assistance when you, um, er, get older." I suggested gently to my 80 year old friend.
He took it in stride with a begrudgingly accepting nod.
I took a sip of Cognac. "You have a hundred and fifty million dollars?" I asked in a hushed voice.
He didn't answer. But a couple weeks later he sent this fantastically beautiful $7,000 bottle of Cognac to me.
I saved some to drink with him the next time we were together. We were sitting over it when I said "You know what my favorite cover of one of your songs is?"
"All Along the Watchtower?" He guessed.
"Sign on the Window by Melanie." I said.
I played it on my phone as he took a sip of the deeply colored and subtly scented Cognac.
"Not bad." He said admiringly.
But I did not know whether he was referring to the Cognac or the song.
Will you blog here again? I miss it. Hope you are staying safe and healthy. Cheers.
ReplyDeleteIn the course of going on vacation to Duluth, for the first time since I started Life is a Fountain, I took a break. I thought of many pieces to write during that time. I made new pictures for Life is a Fountain on my phone at some point, but, when it came to writing, or adding anything to Life is a Fountain, I kept my peace. I didn't write at all. I wondered what would make me write again.
DeleteThen I saw a comment on, of all places, Clerkmanifesto.
A couple months ago, with much ceremony and comment, I took Clerkmanifesto into hibernation in the caves that run under the rambling mansion we know as Life is a Fountain. There Clerkmanifesto dreams Life is a Fountain.
Some friendly reader, who apparently checks in only occasionally on Clerkmanifesto, came upon it sleeping.
So they wrote a comment:
"Will you blog here again? I miss it."
While very nice, I also think:
But do you know about the giant enchanted mansion above you that I built with my own hands, partly made out of Clerkmanifesto itself? It is full of wonders and a thousand things to do and see.
Look at these stairs (www.lifeisafountain.com), or take this elevator (www.lifeisafountain.com), or climb this ladder (www.lifeisafountain.com), or put on these wings (www.lifeisafountain.com). Tell me the cocktail you'd like me to make for you.
But that's all very grand.
So here is the truth, whether I wanted it or not:
Six people were too many readers for me. It was going to my head.
By working very very very hard I was able to bring it down to three.