notes from a train...

i prefer to sit with my back to the direction of travel, by a window, with a table for my coffee. Hills unfold, flying backwards down the tracks, converging to a point, beyond sight, towards the horizon. puffy clouds resolve to sheep, ancient stone barns... the strobe flash of a passing freight train -- blue cars alternating with green pastures. steam curls up from the paper cup. concentric rings ripple outwards from the liquid centre -- kinetic energy, vibration, waves, caffiene, imagination, perspective.

we rocket through a valley of gray, dotted with brown sandstone houses with asphalt roofs. smokestacks issue white smoke. the sky is pigeon coloured. we are flying through a thin mist, casting an uncertain spell on distance. can never be sure of what lies beyond my nose. even that i'm not sure of. it's all beyond me.

some just write. tell what is seen. pay attention. find life in specifics, not content to let them fly by at 150kmh. discrimination is not prejudice. a second of close attention reveals life in anything. gleeful, shady disorganized life. stubbornly resisting stultification. life being fundamentally free, amorphous, feeling, fleeting.

others write from a place of internal vision, eyes closed, with complete faith that these landscapes are the only ones on the horizon. they sit on the other side of the table watching the landscape rush towards them with one eye, the other resolved inwards. gods of their own domains. such vision burns through and arrives unsullied, unwavering & unchanging, right or wrong, clinging to the kernel of truth that flared like a falling star to land ... god only knows where.

so we fly west, perched in the crows nest, swaying side to side, gripping at rigging. some looking back cross stormy seas to "Europa", our immediate origins, others looking forwards beyond the storm to "The Indies", gold, spice & even older origins. but the world always turns out bigger and more varied than we imagine. and we land in some new place entirely, whose connection to us is older than our collective memories allow, yet still part of this mosaic we, bits of crushed pottery, tile, stone, found object, detritus & floatsam, organized to a picture requiring perspective greater than ours to discern.

life. vast beyond the minds even of angels... incomplete, even in the most expansive dreams.

planes trains & automobiles... up at 6 am after a gig, beer, whiskey and a late night joint. feeling pretty rough after a three hour sleep. the upshot was, I slept through most of the subsequent flight to newark, train to NYC & bus to Boston. 

the bon accord had been packed with saturday night punters. mic showed up without a tuner and a shit capo & couldn't keep his guitar in tune. first set was shit. it's  so dispiriting when you can't even get it together to play in tune. such a basic thing. the punters didn't seem to mind though. I love Glaswegians... so enthusiastic & forgiving. then craig showed up with a good capo. we took a break, drank some beer, tuned up, & cooked up a fantastic second set. a wall of acoustic noise & spontaneous harmony vocals all backed up with some inspired, musical percussion from ian. closed out the night, sweaty & high. colors bleeding into each other, dark stained oak panels & preposterous imperial red carpets & dreadful off white tiles pulsated with the electrons we'd dislocated. made 30 quid. which was 30 quid more than i was expecting. i celebrated by forgetting about my imminent early start going off to oran mor for whiskey.

walked home along empty streets made slick with wet leaves, illuminated by the hideous piss-yellow glaswegian streetlamps. drizzle & wind. hood up. head down. crept, quietly upstairs, embarrassed by the screaming that'd been going on in our flat & conscious of it being 0230 in the AM. sat on the ledge outside the window & smoked a joint, a gift from a musician friend. ate leftovers. packed my stuff & lay in bed, thoughts racing. had pola arrived in calgary? would i really not see her for 5 weeks? was this a day in the life of a musician? with all the waiting, disorganization & sudden breakthroughs? was i going to catch up on work? where was all of this going? what was i building besides a precarious future & debt? deep breath. in. out. soft sweet arid aftertaste. elevated perspective. at least i'm having a good time. & the smile on my face went deeper than my stone. time to simplify. time to harmonize. time to do what i was born to do. be who i was born to be. no striving required. just diligent, loving attention. just love, love, love...