Back Pages - Brown Notebook (a) 1.4.1967

 

 

    The editing of the film is progressing.

    It will be a document to eat.

    In the mornings,

    arguing with Howard and Robbie

    about the meaning of that

    may take us hours.

    In the afternoons, I play.

Sometimes Maria accompanies me with her chocolate-coloured tambourine,

sometimes Jesee drifts off by the amplifier,

sometimes Sara looks at us, caressing her belly as round as a moon.

I try out chords to test my voice.

My voice now, with nobody listening.

Manchester + the Triumph dying on Striebel Road

[defending yourself by attacking, then disappear].

Only I can hear that, no one else could sing from there.

I hear it -my voice,

I listen to me -something has changed, and not.

What was different with the band around?

What would it be like to listen to us playing together now?

Rick told me at times they get bored.

Howard needs them less and less,

he says we've already filmed enough material

and we should now focus on the editing

of the edible document. 

 

We have time.
We all have time, and I also look forward

to listening to myself
surrounded once again.

I want to know what has changed, or not.

I'll ask them to come round and play in the evenings

from time to time,

after the kids are in bed.

There's enough place in the Red Room,
four and twenty windows,
a wet bar
and a couple of sockets for whatever comes up.
They'll feel glad.

A certain way to miss each other
consists in wanting to know
what we would be now (what we would be again?)

along with those who once were part of us.

Tomorrow is Sunday, a good day to start.