Sunday, February 11, 2007

Analect 2.39x

8 February 2007. Gray morning--parallel rows of fluorescents inside the 7-eleven, dark mansard shingles, stained here and there. Big brew sign, tilted coffee cup--paraphernalia. Albert Nachman plumbing driver climbs into high van--his two-tone cap--dark blue and white--atop a boney narrow head. Sitting inside the cab, crueler and coffee--shape of a commercial phone held at an angle--longish antenna--checking calls as well. Hand to mouth, fingers tapping his upper lip, almost in rhythm--like the story of Jimmy Dale Gilmore--no, Butch Hancock, their songwriter, driving a John Deere in West Texas cotton fields. "Lubbock or Leave It." His phrase--along with lots of others. "I was driving a terracing machine, working for my dad... So on that old tractor I found out that that speed and gear was the key of G and you could play any song you wanted in it. I got to carrying a notebook and jotting down songs out there. I'd go home at night and try them out on a guitar and they'd be done. In Lubbock there's nothing between you and the clouds or you and the earth..."

Amarillo rose...

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