What about 65-66? Back Pages – Brown Notebook – End-September 1967

Sometimes it's not enough to know the meaning of things.

Sometimes we have to know what things don't mean as well.

 

                           I   stopped   trying   to   figure   everything   out   a   long   time   ago.

Back Pages - Brown Notebook - Early July 1967

Our conclusions

should be

more drastic

                 ...

Won't you come see me //  us

in the basement

again ?

C h r o n i c l e

An entry in this blog

is like a dream,

and you try to make both come true.

They're like strange countries that you have to enter.

W  h  o     s  a  i  d     t  h  a  t    ?

Present (X) End of The Spanish Tour

          

And yesterday

you said in Spanish

"  V E I N T E    M I N U T O S  "

and then you smiled

before disappearing

heading north

But, sooner or later, one of us must know

[...]

Present (IX) - Spanish Tour July 2015

The gamble begins: I set off for Spain.

The caravan of the past travels to the present :

A paradox on wheels, it stops time moving in the wakes.

Barcelona, Zaragoza, Madrid, Granada, Córdoba, San Sebastián,

six places from East to North,

the silhouette of a bird traced onto a map.

Eight summer days,

a calendar of Sundays.

The emissaries are sent,

the gift I carry with me:

I would swap your notebook for a book with mirrored words,

each concert for faith in the miracle.

Let us wish each other a good trip.

 

Back Pages - Brown Notebook - Spanish Song

S P A N I S H     S O N G

Ramona's melody

longing for the boots of Spanish leather

Spanish Mary's enigma

Mix in equal parts

and dare to shout it all

in Spanglish

~

Winning a bet in Spain, Nar :

shifting landscapes

+

changing the date of the moment

Caravan (14) End-June 1967

     From inside the caravan, I watch Dylan arrive in a cobalt blue Chevrolet. I tune my Ibáñez again and let a long while pass before heading to the basement. From the top of the steps I listen to them play a couple songs. I gather my strength to begin the descent. I inhale deeply and start to go down, as if submerging. Rick sees me first, he hails smiling before I even get to the bottom.

      - Hey there, Nar! Cool. You brought your guitar.

      Dylan has his back to me. He´s talking to Garth. He takes what seems like forever to turn round and face me.

      - Well, well... the famous Salvador Ibáñez. Turns out these guys were telling the truth after all...

     I lift the instrument in my left hand, holding it out towards him. He does not move, just asks sarcastically,

      - Are you just a collector or do you actually play?

     - Well... I´m not too bad, they say. And yes, I´ve got a few guitars, but this is my favourite. I won a bet, a long time ago, in Spain.

    - Quite a story, I´m sure. You might wanna save it for another day. OK? Now, let´s listen to this Ibáñez. I wanna carry on with the songs we got planned for today – old, mysterious, even tragic... that´s the vibe. Know this one?

     With his twelve-string acoustic he starts strumming a melodic wave ridden by a whaler I know well: Bonnie Ship the Diamond. I respond by joining in and a surprised look fleets across his face. Without a word, he looks at the band, indicating that they should follow suit. One by one they come in with their instruments, except Richard who remains seated in silence at his drums. So intense is the feeling from hearing us together on the deck of that ship that I am about to lose time when Dylan - his voice aflame- gets on to the chorus a second time:

So it's rise up my lads

Let your hearts never fail

When that bonnie ship the Diamond goes

fishin' for the whales

      We finish up and Bob looks at me for a few seconds, his head cocked to one side. Rick smiles, giving me a thumbs up. Standing next to his drums, in silence, Richard takes a photo.

      In the newspapers, and for months now, space ships like flags have been taking off in a race to set foot on the moon. In the basement, just this evening, on board his ship, I have just landed.