David Thayer

Picture this: you’re driving along in your automobile. The New York Times is on the passenger seat already in a strap hanger fold in case fourteen people pile into the car and you’re squeezed for space. Old habits die hard. There’s a new biography of Hendrix. Big crowd at the light by Dunkin’ Donuts. You zip through the opening paragraphs and then this line hits the synapses: “before Hendrix everything sounded like Herman Hermits.” Woke up this morning feelin’ fine…sepia lighting from out of nowhere suggests flashback. Cousin Brucie is squealing, Murray the K is speaking pig Latin. Your car is a 59 Plymouth with a pushbutton tranny. The last movie you saw was Beach Blanket Bingo.

Brucie dissolves from a Meshugenah Merv commercial into I’m Henry the Eighth I am. Your fingers locate the AM dial, but it’s too late. You’re in Hermit country. Inside Dunkin shaking like a leaf, same song blasting from the speakers…you can only hope and pray it will end soon and the DJ will astound you with something like Not Fade Away or Little Red Rooster.

Back in the car. Read more, there’s a Kurt Cobain reference, a parallel to Jimi’s impoverished youth, bad ending. Okay the donuts are kicking in, flashback receding. You’re good, the Times is back in a straphanger fold. A little Curtis Mayfield takes the edge off. Hey, your friend Norm just pulled in for a dozen donuts. He rolls down his window…woke up this morning feelin’ fine. Norm is speaking pig Latin…no, say it ain’t so…he’s in Hermit country.

This entry was posted on Saturday, August 27th, 2005 at 6:22 am and is filed under Ripped from Headlines Still Oozing Ink. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.