we headed out for the plane .. this time trying it differently again .. leaving from phoenix .. a direct flight to london .. for some reason our tickets offered upgraded seats in business class going over.. not sure how that happened

then
the airline called that afternoon and said the flight would be 3 hours delayed .. . i could relate

day before, had just finished cleaning out my storage unit .. trying to lighten the load up here in the future .. time to rid myself of the 150 reels of 2 inch tape from all the past 40 or 50 albums .. jaime ( jim the archivist’s partner archivist ) offered to take them all .. so i loaded up my car-truck several times and hauled them over there .. it was 112 degrees outside

today when we to drove to phoenix .. it was 116 up there .. it was just me and gabe driving up to meet lonna and jon already there .. somehow .. even with the delayed flight, had left tucson 4 hours later then i planned .. i can’t help it

gabe forgot his passport … but we figured that out too before we left tucson .. not bad .. on track despite ourselves

in phoenix .. we meet altogether at the airport with no problems .. the scene seemed surreal .. the ugly dim light of the aging airport and plane all seemed old and dated .. our seats were curious in business class .. all connected in a pod of 4 .. very dream like .. and then they brought out the 18 year old scotch .. . so we left phoenix behind like we didn’t mind

wheels up by 22.30 and we slept thru the night .. arrived at a normal time for jet laggers … but missed our bus hook up ..

found nikolaj at the airport who had booked the wrong ticket .. and the 5 of us then were delivered to the festival grounds by taxi van .. the driver’s name was “acid”

he drove fast and just blew through all the security at the festival .. if you don’t acknowledge things like security they just don’t really exist then

there was our new home .. our submarine .. the big black double decker bus with the trailer .. all 13 of us would cram in there somehow and bunk it out

that particular sweetness to see everyone again .. like a homecoming that only exists in a certain plane of existence

the end
– - — – - –

a short tale of fire and rain er .. . by howe gelb

in october, carice the actress came to me with a thought. suggested i might be right for a small part in a movie she was about to film in new mexico. she knew i was only interested in the small parts.

met with the director in amsterdam on the way to victoria island .. (?) .. . yes canada. don’t ask.
she said she’d rather have a guitar player that was not an actor instead of the other way around.

when the time rolled around to go film it, december had turned surprisingly cold that same day there. the temps plunged. everyday was below zero and the story that was once set in a hot desert was now taking place in a stunning snowy landscape there.

they needed a couple songs to be played live in the scene on the porch. i had written “lost love” for one of the actresses to sing there then (jelke van houten) . .. and the director chose an existential song i had (“reality or not”) for a scene with holly hunter.

so the scene took place on a porch of an old ranch house in new mexico, at night, when the temps were mercilessly well below zero.

but it was a fine time out there with exceptional people .. . and enlightening seeing how the director and actors cut through so many difficult obstacles of nature and emotion to secure a day’s filming and get the job done no matter what.

i was happy enough with my harry dean stanton minute. . .. but then later realized those songs were pretty good .. so we added them on the giant giant sand recording we did later that same month, which included the overture : “wind blown waltz”.

a sincere thank you to those fine, brave dutch folk and the stunning snowed under new mexico landscape for the severe yippity and song work.

the end.