Tuesday, December 13, 2011


This Dylan song is knocking me out as most DYLAN SONGS tend to do. This is Tombstone Blues...says
"Mama's in the fact'ry
She ain't got no shoes,
Daddy's in the alley
He's lookin' for the fuse,
I'm in the streets
With the tombstone blues"....
"Something is happening but you don't know what it is...Do you Mr Jones" follows where Tombstone left off. Its almost like one continuous reverberation...like a refreshing river that was once a little brook of a fresh-water stream like the ones you see in the northern wilderness of Bhutan...that eventually grows as it journeys downhill.

The li'l brook then begins to open up after the struggle through forest thickets and hard brushes- metamorphosing into a handsome young river that's got some attitude as it crashes and flows through more broadened landscapes...where country folks use the river's riches to nurture and grow their fields.

The rivers are now beginning to take epic proportions...they provide you with rice and wheat and vegetables and whatever the good mother earth giveth.
When you leave the mountains and the hills and venture south toward more tropical climes you see the rivers still...there's a strange familiarity at first...you didn't know and you're not quite sure this is the li'l brook that gargled and tumbled its way forth down to meet up with all its kind.
You can't comprehend the physical changes the rivers have gone through> its a confident looking smart river that's no more shy and timid about what and who it is. It just flows on, oblivious to the boats and the fishermen.

The banks are now filled with stones and boulders that are like laundry machines for the paddy-field folks.
The river is in its prime.
The river was always in its prime irrespective of where and how big or small it used to be. You see; wherever you saw this river it was perfectly molded to the needs of that locale.
Now it houses all kinds of aquatic life. It joins up with its brethren and together they journey on....until they get to the shores at the mouth of the Bay of Bengal.
This is where they help house and quench the thirst of beauties like the Royal Bengal Tiger and the Indian Elephant. The feathered kind also prosper from the rich embankments. The people who live here draw life from the river's many gifts.
And to think this all began as little flakes of snow capping the mountains and becoming solid glaciers; melted as timely as they could to form the first droplets of water dripping down to where the water finds its level and begins to flow.
Taking the path of least resistance, the little droplets know naturally how to go with the flow.
Water, they say, always finds its level.

And Bob Dylan songs, you see, are just like the elements. From snow-flake-glacier-water-droplets-to-brook-stream-river-ocean and back to the Origins.
"Now goodbye is too good a word babe; so i'll just say fare thee well" as i listen some more to Dylan magic even as this alter-ego Jack Frost Fate in Masked & Anonymous with that track "How Does It Feel" lingoing in Mexican!
Guess that line by Depp in "Once Upon a Time in Mexico" is apt: "You're either a Mexi-Can or a Mexi-Can't!

PS: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!

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