“It’s getting to the point where I’m no fun anymore…”
One of my all time favorites, a CSNY tune, pops into my head whenever he says that I’m no fun anymore… we used to kick it with booze, laugh and have a good ol’ time… well, no shit Sherlock. I had a stroke. My new meds don’t mix with alcohol, the most I can do is sip a small glass of wine. But that’s on me, what’s stopping you?
It’s too quiet here, it’s like being in the country. You could hear a rat piss on cotton.
“Chestnut brown canary…”
Are you bored? Ready to say hey babe, I love you but I can’t deal with this?
It’s not the first time that I have casually opened the door to such a conversation with a question phrased for an easy yes or no answer, providing a non-confrontational way for him to say what may be twirling in his mind. The unspoken question still lingers in my own mind, unanswered: Are we done yet?
Next day: Hey babe, are we planting greens?
Yeah, I’m planting salad greens… leaf lettuce, spinach, assorted baby lettuce greens… Oh? You want mustard greens and turnip greens? Sure, why not… we can plant greens for old ladies in the towers who have already put in requests for bell peppers and green tomatoes. Yeah… love you, too.
Today: phone rings, pocket call… I hang up and he calls right back. Hello? No response… I hear voices, but he’s not talking to me.
“What have I got to lose…”
Here’s the song without Young… it’s an old tune, been around since about Woodstock ’69 and not the best rendition, but totally cool to see old guys sing one of their old songs.
Sigh.
Barnbees 