Regrets make a nice tea cozy.captainpilgrimMay 26 2005, 12:42:19 UTC
Alice once asked me, "Do you know what it feels like to be so far away from someone, to be pushed so far away from them that even when you want to put your arms around them to tell them you love them and say it will be okay, you can't.. and you know you can't and they will never let you. You know that feeling? When you are standing next to someone in a room and you're a million miles away? That's what keeps me up at night. Do you understand? Hey.. are you listening?"
I didn't even look at her and kept staring straight through the windshield when I mumbled, "No. Not really."
She sighed and pulled her seatbelt tighter over her lap then rested her chin on her hand and added, "Of course not. How could you?"
I drove her home and we didn't say anything else for the rest of the car ride, or that day. I didn't sleep that night either, and I was thinking about how much I really did understand it, and how I felt like I just didn't want anyone to know how much I really did care.
Not yet. Not quite yet when we leave again so soon for the
Facts of the matter.unburiableMay 27 2005, 09:56:46 UTC
Prompted by what I can only describe as a situation that needs a life lesson quicker than the amount of time it takes to order and actually finally receive a perfectly prepared Great White Shark filet, I say, “Now Ashton, watch and listen very closely.”
Removing my right hand from a glass of wine, I push it out over the table with my index and middle fingers raised. This is how I signal waiters and it works every time because these people are trained to discover each and every day that life has passed them by. And so I proceed to demonstrate my point to Ashton Kutcher, who I am presently dining with under the pretense of running through the script of a follow-up to Peter Yates’ lauded 1979 film Breaking Away, titled Breaking Away 2. Speaking to Ashton is like talking to a wall, almost; the glaring difference being that walls are usually clean-shaven
( ... )
Handsome refrain.unburiableMay 27 2005, 09:57:19 UTC
I stare now at Ashton, who is paying attention but barely keeping up. “Exactly.” Then, once again facing the waiter, “And that, my friend, the waiter, is what your predecessor said before he moved on.”
Abruptly, I wave the sad-faced boy off. And I lean in to Ashton. “Now listen to me good, Ashton. Don’t be this ‘some other guy’, okay? Because that, as you will find out if you’re on the ground, in the gutter, thinking about your shitty life, is bullshit. It is for the birds, it is not now, it is not ever. Don’t be some other guy.”
Kutcher finally gets it. He’s grinning. His teeth look like kissing targets for an entire swine herd of rich, pointless suburban girls, and even though that’s a plus, it’s not what I am counting on him for in this particular situation.
“So Ashton. What I am saying is, don’t fucking blow it. You’re been given a rare chance. A starring role in the follow-up to Breaking Away 2. This whole thing with Demi has gotten you far
( ... )
Olives in the eyes.unburiableMay 27 2005, 10:16:38 UTC
More half awake than frozen, I’d say. Just standing there like cement, drying out. You can see the wrinkles growing deeper; like canyons, they are. Eyes wandering. Lips curling. The sad, droopy puppy dog face of a kicked puppy.
This is Louis Yorba’s legacy. It’s his reflection in the mirror in the morning.
A car is waiting for me downstairs, Neil Garriscond.
breathing becomes an effort.porcupinesoulJune 1 2005, 10:04:04 UTC
Just returned from meeting with some label executives in London. While there, we received news that the King had died. Yorba gets on the phone immediately and books the next flight out of Heathrow.
Jimmy Martin was 77 years old. I remember listening to him as a kid. We did a tour together back in 1998, before he was diagnosed with the cancer that took his life. We shared a love for boxing and pinball. Last year, during a show at the Grand Ole Opry, I invited him on stage to play a song and I saw tears glistening in the spotlights as he played, as if he knew it would be one of his last performances.
When we rolled the dice that saved a generation.unburiableJune 1 2005, 12:13:36 UTC
Jim was never the best at being just a friend; he was, at the very basest of his profound way of working, a loyal composer of friendship, putting together histories of love and laughter with catchy choruses of the soul and a bridge that never seemed to end.
The songs themselves were only the smallest part of the love he had to give. An abundance of timelessness is, quite simply, his legacy now.
At Jimmy’s bedside, two weeks previous to his terrible death, I sat with Jennie Monroe (longtime Martin-collaborator Bill Monroe’s surviving niece), Peirra Smith (Elliott Smath’s sister), and Ian Svenonius, formerly of Nation of Ulysses.
We held hands over Jim’s shrinking body and Pierra offered up a prayer. I never knew it would be the last time I would see my dear friend Jimmy.
The call came to me while I was in New York with Paul Thomas Anderson, wrapping up preliminary shooting of the end credits to his new film From the Bottom of This Heart Out. Paul Thomas sends his love to the family, as do I
( ... )
Comments 8
I didn't even look at her and kept staring straight through the windshield when I mumbled, "No. Not really."
She sighed and pulled her seatbelt tighter over her lap then rested her chin on her hand and added, "Of course not. How could you?"
I drove her home and we didn't say anything else for the rest of the car ride, or that day. I didn't sleep that night either, and I was thinking about how much I really did understand it, and how I felt like I just didn't want anyone to know how much I really did care.
Not yet. Not quite yet when we leave again so soon for the
Reply
Removing my right hand from a glass of wine, I push it out over the table with my index and middle fingers raised. This is how I signal waiters and it works every time because these people are trained to discover each and every day that life has passed them by. And so I proceed to demonstrate my point to Ashton Kutcher, who I am presently dining with under the pretense of running through the script of a follow-up to Peter Yates’ lauded 1979 film Breaking Away, titled Breaking Away 2. Speaking to Ashton is like talking to a wall, almost; the glaring difference being that walls are usually clean-shaven ( ... )
Reply
Abruptly, I wave the sad-faced boy off. And I lean in to Ashton. “Now listen to me good, Ashton. Don’t be this ‘some other guy’, okay? Because that, as you will find out if you’re on the ground, in the gutter, thinking about your shitty life, is bullshit. It is for the birds, it is not now, it is not ever. Don’t be some other guy.”
Kutcher finally gets it. He’s grinning. His teeth look like kissing targets for an entire swine herd of rich, pointless suburban girls, and even though that’s a plus, it’s not what I am counting on him for in this particular situation.
“So Ashton. What I am saying is, don’t fucking blow it. You’re been given a rare chance. A starring role in the follow-up to Breaking Away 2. This whole thing with Demi has gotten you far ( ... )
Reply
Reply
This is Louis Yorba’s legacy. It’s his reflection in the mirror in the morning.
A car is waiting for me downstairs,
Neil Garriscond.
Reply
Reply
Jimmy Martin was 77 years old. I remember listening to him as a kid. We did a tour together back in 1998, before he was diagnosed with the cancer that took his life. We shared a love for boxing and pinball. Last year, during a show at the Grand Ole Opry, I invited him on stage to play a song and I saw tears glistening in the spotlights as he played, as if he knew it would be one of his last performances.
He was a friend of mine.
Sad day.
Reply
The songs themselves were only the smallest part of the love he had to give. An abundance of timelessness is, quite simply, his legacy now.
At Jimmy’s bedside, two weeks previous to his terrible death, I sat with Jennie Monroe (longtime Martin-collaborator Bill Monroe’s surviving niece), Peirra Smith (Elliott Smath’s sister), and Ian Svenonius, formerly of Nation of Ulysses.
We held hands over Jim’s shrinking body and Pierra offered up a prayer. I never knew it would be the last time I would see my dear friend Jimmy.
The call came to me while I was in New York with Paul Thomas Anderson, wrapping up preliminary shooting of the end credits to his new film From the Bottom of This Heart Out. Paul Thomas sends his love to the family, as do I ( ... )
Reply
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