Monday, June 6, 2011


In the dark place, our voices trail molasses echoes into the corners, painted black and red with lascivious abandon. A home for ghosts and we the living possessed by respect for the dead and the sounds they require. This place, this place, atop the hills, a secret even amongst Norwegians, a place of sex and death, built by the visionary Emmanuel Vigelands. I'm awestruck. I exit the shoulder high stone door, and blinking the sun specks form my eye I breathe and let it all wash over me, as I have done so many times already. These Last Days, this feeling of change, which sweeps in on salt sea air and simply and softly arranges the mind in a new and hopeful dream state where in all is in front of us, and no and never are no words forever. These Last Days, they are a New Truth where in all is built upon solid words and firm goals and key concrete connections. The Family. The Family grows and grows.

A person I have never met travels 9 hours to sit before the festival stage and listen to me sing. She requests a song of mine. We talk. Later, she sings me a song she has written and I cry and take her by the hand and put her in front of the family and everyone sits silent and respectful and we all drown in this Now Nico Sea and afters we try and get going but Tobias sits quiet and stares at our new friend and says simply, I need to respect that song for a moment longer - and nothing, nothing anyone says or does is a cliche. I tell everyone the story of my Love and I play the song, the sound of it, over the stereo speakers and laugh as people slap me on the back, and the girls, amazing singers all of them, gasp and holler with glee when The Boots hits her notes. Tomas, twirling, insists on calling her later in the evening. Everyone loves everyone. Everyone is safe and everyone is free. I can talk to each person here in the same manner, real, right, open.

This is The Gypsy Family, one corner.
And there are so many more roads and so many more friends.
And shows.
And moments.

A chair beside the water overlooking the fjord. A red and white cabin in the woods. Absinthe and laughter. Joy as a brother achieves recognition. An incredible depth in a brief second of eye contact. With all of the boys and girls. Incredible. An invitation to play in the studio of a famous Norwegian Poet.  A invitation to play in Iceland. Two men who come to every show. Hundreds of copies of the album downloaded now.

Further on further east further out further to farther our future fantasia.

No comments:

Post a Comment