Be here to love me.
I watched the documentary “Be Here To Love Me” last night, probably for the 2oth time. It’s about Townes Van Zandt. A great singer/songwriter who is no longer with us. He died in 1997. From what amounts to complications caused by alcoholism. And the documentary is a strange mix of sad, beautiful and sometimes ridiculous. It’s a great watch and anyone with interest in roots music or fringe writers would get a kick out it. There’s a memorable scene in which he’s being interviewed on the old Nashville Network and the interviewer asks about a pair of songs he wrote. Townes looks at him and says “I know that one song is mine, but I ain’t never heard the other” and it is one of his better more well-respected songs. But there’s great scenes and recollections from most of his contemporaries as well. Kris Kristofferson, Willie Nelson, Guy Clark, Emmy Lou Harris and Steve Earle. If you’re interested I have a link to a streaming copy of it online. Just leave a comment.
I am sort of unfocused today. So writing is more an exercise than a real attempt to say something. I want to write brilliant entries every time write here, but I guess you have to just bang out the ugly ones once in a while to clear the way for the beautiful. Writing works like that. Least I think so. For a good writer there is a dozen crappy pieces for every golden one. I figure the creative mind gets cluttered and has to be swept clean every now and again. And that’s where I am at. Least it feels like it. And I don’t want to write about the same stuff over and over. I am not sure you want to read either. See what I’m saying?
But I will say that today I feel lonely as all get out…I need to reach out somehow and connect. So I guess that I am doing it here. Just stretching my arm all the way out hoping my fingertips reach you, that you see me and know I am here. It’s the human need for someone to feel that they are not alone. An empty bed, an empty room or an empty chair can be the scariest thing in the world some days.
Be well, be love.