"All I got is a red guitar, three chords, and the truth", as requested by iddqd. (1459 hits)
Category: GeneralRating: 1 on 9 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by <kornmunky44.at.hotmail.com> (View user info) at 2004-01-08 19:12:48 EST
"All I got is a red guitar, three chords, and the truth."
He gave me that statement after swallowing the last of his wine, and looked at me with a spark in his eye. The weathered poet stood up, shook my hand and left the dressing room to take the stage.
As a child, I never fully understood the power of Bob Dylan's music. My parents would play his songs on the turntable, and try to explain just how much the words meant to them. My parents were veterans of a lost generation, children born into a world they had to make their own to stay alive. The Hippie movement was theirs, and they lived it the best they could. After they grew up and moved on, my parents always held a piece of the happiness, peace, and love of their generation. That piece was Bob Dylan, and his songs kept that little piece of soul they needed.
I first met Mr. Dylan in 1987, after my parents took me to one of his concerts in our hometown. My parents took me as an early birthday gift, and as a teenage metal-head, I was less than thrilled. I sat through the concert with my mullet, Metallica T-shirt and Ripped jeans, and looked at the middle aged folks around me. Half of these people were my friends' parents, and I was standing right next to them watching Him play "All Along the Watchtower". I felt embarrassed, but knew my parents were only trying to impose a piece of their childhood on me, not ridicule me. I watched the 2 hour set, and left the venue feeling strangely enthused. It seemed that this lone guitarist had changed my mood, and my attitude. I know it sounds strange, but it was almost as if his music had touched me in some sort of strange way. From that day on, I began to listen to less and less heavy metal and more folksy, meaningful, classic rock. Bob Dylan became one of my biggest idols, and I picked up the guitar shortly afterward.
After a few years, I moved out of my parents house , and out on my own. But after a few dead end jobs, and 3 months missed rent, I was out on the street, with a pack full of clothes, and my old Epiphone to keep me company. I would spend the night huddled under cardboard and rags, trying to keep warm through the cold Seattle nights. During the days, I would sit on corners and park benches, panhandling with my guitar in hopes of getting a warm meal into me before I returned to the alley later that night. It was one such day that I was serenading no one and everyone, when I heard a stranger say, "Nice tune. 'That Dylan?". I looked up to acknowledge his question, when I realized who I was facing. He laughed when he saw that I was completely stunned to see who my audience was.
"Are you who I think you are?", I asked. He just grinned and said, "I gotta show in a couple hours, wanna jam?"
Inside Bob's dressing room, we shared a cup of coffee and a hot meal. Afterwards, he brought out a bottle of wine. He offered, and I indulged. He then brought out his worn old Martin, and began to strum. Words don't describe what I felt having this living legend sitting across the table from me, singing his heart out as if he was in front of thousands. But I was his only listener. The sheer emotion in his voice caused me to back up, and in doing so, I hit the bottle with my guitar. Wine poured all over his pants, and soaked his battered six-string.
"I'm so.. sorry..", I stammered.
Bob chuckled to himself, and thought for a moment.
"It's ok man," he said, "now all I got is a Red guitar, three chords, and the truth."
User Reviews
Submitted by urbaneruralite (user info) at 2005-03-09 22:08:20 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
I never believe. I want to, but I don't.
Submitted by littledan (user info) at 2004-01-09 23:26:59 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Raimee, did you know that I registered on this site Just after you? you're 968, i'm 970, and there's no 969.
thanks for the positive feedback guys.
Submitted by Raimee (user info) at 2004-01-08 23:03:08 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
That is a really cool story.
Submitted by digsy (user info) at 2004-01-08 20:02:10 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
why didnt you go to your parent's house instead of living on the street. oh thats right, because you're full of shit!
hehe, nice story
Submitted by Insanethemind (user info) at 2004-01-08 19:46:49 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Great. I enjoyed this.
Submitted by Jambo at 2004-01-08 19:26:06 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Cool story...Great ending. It sounds like something Dylan might actually say.
Submitted by hamilton (user info) at 2004-01-08 19:17:39 EST (#)
Ranking: -1
yawn...
Submitted by Phinch (user info) at 2004-01-08 19:17:35 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
nice
Submitted by wardy (user info) at 2004-01-08 19:16:16 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
if this is true, you can have my first born. if it isn't, you can still have him, i don't want the prick anyways.