Sometimes it’s better to borrow a few lyrics.
Especially after yesterdays debacle in Washington D.C. I’m not political. I rarely show discuss that on Storyteller. This is a place for art. But, I have to tell you, I’m tired of it. And it’s only been a hundred and something days. I’m ashamed that my countrymen elected somebody who is so corrupt, so inept and so vicious that he’s brought us to the brink of a serious constitutional crisis. He’s managed to lower my country’s status in the rest of the world. And, he’s lining his pockets as I write.
You know who I’m talking about. Yet. I never wrote his name.
From Mr. Dylan…
“Thunder on the mountain, fires on the moon. There’s a ruckus in the alley and the sun will be here soon. Today’s the day, gonna grab my trombone and blow. Well, there’s hot stuff here and it’s everywhere I go.
Feel like my soul is beginning to expand. Look into my heart and you will sort of understand. You brought me here, now you’re trying to run me away. The writing’s on the wall, come read it, come see what it say.
Thunder on the mountain, rolling like a drum. Gonna sleep over there, that’s where the music coming from. I don’t need any guide, I already know the way. Remember this, I’m your servant both night and day.
The pistols are poppin’ and the power is down. I’d like to try somethin’ but I’m so far from town. The sun keeps shinin’ and the North Wind keeps picking up speed. Gonna forget about myself for a while, gonna go out and see what others need. I’ve been sitting down studying the art of love.
Gonna raise me an army, some tough sons of bitches. I’ll recruit my army from the orphanages. I been to St. Herman’s church and I’ve said my religious vows. I’ve sucked the milk out of a thousand cows. Shame on your greed, shame on your wicked schemes. I’ll say this, I don’t give a damn about your dreams. Thunder on the mountain heavy as can be.
Mean old twister bearing down on me. All the ladies of Washington scrambling to get out of town. Looks like something bad gonna happen, better roll your airplane down. Everybody’s going and I want to go too.
Don’t wanna take a chance with somebody new. I did all I could and I did it right there and then. I’ve already confessed – no need to confess again.
Gonna make a lot of money, gonna go up north. I’ll plant and I’ll harvest what the earth brings forth. The hammer’s on the table, the pitchfork’s on the shelf. For the love of God, you ought to take pity on yourself . “
Copyright © 2006 by Special Rider Music
I edited this a bit for brevity. I’m pretty sure nobody edits Bob Dylan, though sometimes his work meanders a bit. So. There you have it. Me editing a Nobel Laureate. Imagine that.
The picture. Central City is the last area of “high ground” in New Orleans. For the most part, it remains ungentrified with the small exception of an area near Oretha Castle Haley Boulevard. But, the drums of change are beating. I made this picture there. You are looking directly at the Super Dome. You can walk to it from this neighborhood. Are you getting the idea? This land is prime development land. But, it’s rough. In many ways.
Technically speaking. This is a digital image from start to finish. I did whatever I do in post production to make it this way. I wish I can tell you each step, but I really fiddled around. And, tinkered.