Take it easy Knut

Oh the dream. And the waking up. A small town and a big star. Last night. I just wandered down and there I was, in the purple light. The sunset. A converted church. On Main. Hello! Please come in, oh you don’t have a ticket, no problem sir. And the songs, and the stuff, whatever, etc. So seldom does this happen to us, here in the middle of nowhere, graced by the holy ghost and his Cardinals. And Knut. Stuffing his bearface with eggs, his head with tricks and treats.

It must sound confusing. And it was, for a while. Me, Simon, at the recording of a TV-show? How did that come about? And with Ryan, Ryan Adams. Shit. I sat there transfixed. Farmerboy of local origin. A musical fan. Suddenly I knew all the words, the tabs and harmonies. Wow. On Main, just down here in Kavlitown. Filmed for TV. And I didn’t even ask what station. Who cares.

After, on the street again. Waking up so to speak, thinking about what I had to do today: spraying that field down by Romney Lake, painting the old barn, the one I’ve turned into a sauna. Take it easy I thought, don’t worry so much, and relax. Work on what matters, and work hard at that. The other stuff, forget it.

This time I’m speeding with no direction. Without a reason. What is this fire? Burning slowly. My one and only. Desire.

What does he mean? Ryan. What do you mean? I think I know what you mean, but I won’t try to explain. I’d only fumble it. Seriously, and then what’s the point? Figure it out for yourself. And then tape it for your local TV.