Queen Mary she’s my friend
“It was raining from the first
And I was dying there of thirst
So I came in here
And your long-time curse hurts
But what’s worse
Is this pain in here
I can’t stay in here
Ain’t it clear that–
I just can’t fit
Yes, I believe it’s time for us to quit
When we meet again
Introduced as friends
Please don’t let on that you knew me when
I was hungry and it was your world.
Ah, you fake just like a woman, yes, you do
You make love just like a woman, yes, you do
Then you ache just like a woman
But you break just like a little girl.”
-Just Like A Woman by Bob Dylan-
Man!…Dylan lays me out flat on this one. It’s so sharp and sweet and soft and hard to hold. My God, how can your heart just not empty out and come loose, like shaking cobwebs from some eternal sleep and opening your eyes to see it’s still raining. Such gorgeous words. Such deep truth. You can’t tell me it isn’t holy music. That God ain’t right there in every note. It may not be a song of praise. But it sure enough connects to the universe in some mystic way. And brother if you ever saw a woman break like a little girl…You know it’s just the same as Jesus talking to a woman at a well. It’s all about truth and love. And Dylan is quietly telling you “Man ain’t it the most tragic and beautiful thing to see?”
Right now I am listening to Richie Havens play the song. Which is cool. See because Dylan himself said so. Because Dylan hated most covers of his songs. Of this version though he said “I don’t know why anyone would ever want to cover this song, but Richie did something to it. He turned it into a tender love song.” So it’s okay. But still Dylan is always the trump card.
Women. You’re all such a mystery and fascination to me. Beautiful and fatal. Man I see you peeking and smiling and I fall over my feet trying to do whats right. Trying to be kind and trying to be something of honor and of good. And ending up in a heap on the floor wondering if I had of just played a different song, maybe the dance would have gone better.
Of course as a male it’s my prerogative to always be wrong. I just don’t know. It sometimes seems so futile. And me I am just sort of a different bird. Yesterday I was sitting on a bench in a little park yesterday. Doing what I do…Looking at trees, clouds and the occasional squirrel and wondering how the hell do I fit into this and I loomed up to see a woman watching me. Either in strange fascination or attraction, then she smiled at me and I thought ‘Most guys would get up and go over and say hello.’ Ha! But not me. No sir! Because me I am just not that kind and well I am kind of scared. And besides, what the hell would I say? “Hi I’m me and I ain’t got a pot to piss in, I am sort of scattered and lost. Oh and see I got this soul that is searching for something more and something great and wants to know God. And most people just don’t get it. In fact most people don’t value it or care. And I love my daughter and my faith. But I don’t know how to love a woman in a way that doesn’t leave us both broken and bruised before we’re done. Want to go have a coffee?”
Yeah so I just don’t. I listen to Dylan and think about that one great love, that maybe escaped me or maybe hasn’t never come. And I write this or I write in other places and I hope that someday I’ll have someone hear me…Really hear me. Not just the words, but the meaning, the spirit of the words and the man behind them. But isn’t that just what we all want. Someone to understand. More than anything else, someone who gets us and values us for the person we are. The child God made us? Someone who will hold us up as holy and good. And someone you can do the same to. And when you do, right there man…That…That is the most beautiful thing you can know. Maybe even on par with watching the birth of a child. A life changing spiritual experience.
I thank God for women and I barter the devil to keep them. It’s a pretty paradox. I can’t help it I guess…I just sort of lose all sense of time and control when I look into a soft pair of eyes and I feel the walls come down. And boy oh boy don’t you all smell so nice…”Let me pet the rabbit George” kind of nice.
Be well, be love.