Monday, September 20, 2010


Standing alone in the bar with a glass of Merlot, just me and my hopes and the dark. I heard James McMurtry's words shoot from the speakers like well aimed darts. I sipped my wine, swallowed a hint of envy, and began writing down his abrupt, poetic, and sad bursts of words. Little drops of ink sinking in.


Little things. Old photographs, beer, bitterness, standing at a window alone, the flavor of regret like bile clinging to our teeth, are the heavy heavy things that sink us.

We are all a danger to ourselves. The mistakes we make are wasted as we cover our ears and look for something nice, shiny, and distracting. We grasp the bright flash and disregard the lessons.


I glanced past the stacked and clean drinking glasses, over rumpled bar rags, to peer nearly 18 years into the distance where I find an old boyfriend's handwriting in my hands. I remember holding a James McMurtry tape with a red and white strip along the top where faded ink letters ran together.


2 comments:

  1. I saw James McMurtry in NYC a couple of years ago. He was kind of annoyed at the crowd because no one was dancing. For me anyway, even though the music is great, I am always carefully listening to the words because that's his strength.

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  2. I went to a Neil Young concert where we had to sit and behave...I wanted to shoot him!

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