tangledupinblue

Well, I got the fever down in my pockets
The Persian drunkard, he follows me
Yes, I can take him to your house but I can't unlock it
You see, you forgot to leave me with the key
Oh, where are you tonight, sweet Marie?

Now, I been in jail when all my mail showed
That a man can't give his address out to bad company
And now I stand here lookin' at your yellow railroad
In the ruins of your balcony
Wond'ring where you are tonight, sweet Marie.

~~~daily dylan~~~~

Blonde on Blonde reminds me of Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Something about it does, at least. Both make me think of hot stucco and spanish tiles. Something tropical, lazy and pale yellow, paler than canary, whatever that is. I think a lot in colours. It's a shame I have literally no aptitude for any of the visual arts, because I have strong colour associations for lots of things. Emotions, places, people -- they all have a colour. Often times the colour will be a combination of a person, place, thought, song, emotion, etc. Our farm in North Carolina is green/blue the colour of the Smokies. Grandmother Sallie is that same colour. Other Grandmother, just like Bermuda is the colour of sandpaper, but with hints of lapis lazuli in the mix. I need to get to the paler colours of my spectrum. Winter is too black and gfey, like swirled marble. No fun. I dig light orange, and am so ready for carolina blue.

This is Trash, in living colour