{"id":6139,"date":"2023-03-13T13:08:43","date_gmt":"2023-03-13T20:08:43","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/?p=6139"},"modified":"2023-03-13T17:39:57","modified_gmt":"2023-03-14T00:39:57","slug":"guitarist-from-new-york","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/archives\/6139","title":{"rendered":"Guitarist from New York"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

I went to bed last night thinking about fences and walls. We recently removed a large section of the old fence topped with barbed wire that surrounded our two acres when we bought the place. All our neighbors and visitors have told us how much they love the fence being gone, how beautiful the forest vista, and how spacious this whole part of the neighborhood feels now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I was growing up\nthere were no fences or walls dividing the lots in our suburban neighborhood,\nwhich gave a marvelous spacious feeling to our environment. Everyone, adults\nand children and dogs, felt connected and could<\/em>\nconnect easily with each other. Fifty years gone by, high walls now surround\nall those lots, and the neighborhood feels like a vast prison. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was going to write\nmore about walls and fences, but the dream I had last night is much more\ninteresting to me, and I thought you might find the dream interesting, too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

*<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019m walking on a dirt road on the coast of Spain in summer. I\u2019m younger than I am now, wearing a T-shirt and jeans and I\u2019m barefoot and have no possessions. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I come to a house on a\nhill with a view of the ocean. There are no other houses anywhere to be seen. In\nsearch of food, I enter the house and find three women there. I don\u2019t know them\nand they don\u2019t know me. Nevertheless, they accept me into their midst and one\nof them says of another of the women, \u201cShe\u2019s a guitarist from New York.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This woman, the\nguitarist from New York, has long brown hair and is very beautiful to me. She\u2019s\nwearing a skimpy purple dress and invites me to embrace her. We embrace and\nkiss and disrobe, and she leads me away from the others and we make love.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The other women inform\nme they are a lesbian couple, and one of them says she\u2019s never been with a man\nand would like to try. So she and I have sex, which upsets the guitarist from\nNew York. She gives me a look to say From\nnow on you will only have sex with me. Okay?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I give her a look to\nsay Will do.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Now I\u2019m doing some\nkind of work on the place and need a shovel. A moment later I\u2019m in a big city\nin the 1930s in winter. There are electric trolleys and automobiles from that\nera, and the people are dressed in the fashions of those times.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I wander around until I find a hardware store. I choose a shiny new shovel and an axe, and on my way to the counter with them I remember I have no money. So I lean the shovel and axe against the counter and walk out of the store intending to go to my parents’ house in California to get some money.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I walk up a street where all the buildings collapsed long ago and trees and vines are now growing in the rubble. I come to a bus stop amidst the ruins and ask a man if buses still stop here. The man speaks English with a thick Spanish accent and says, \u201cYes. Buses still come here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A crowded bus arrives.\nI get on and say to the driver, \u201cI don\u2019t know how much it is. I want to go to\nthe airport.\u201d I get out my wallet and it is bulging with fifty and\nhundred-dollar bills. The driver gives me a ticket and two dollars.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I take a seat beside a woman wearing a heavy coat, her hair and face covered by a bandana. She removes her bandana and let\u2019s her hair down. The guitarist from New York!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy do you need to fly to California?\u201d she asks, pursing her lips for a kiss, \u201cwhen your wallet is full of money?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

fin<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Something<\/em> piano solo<\/a> from our new CD Through the Fire<\/em><\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I went to bed last night thinking about fences and walls. We recently removed a large section of the old fence topped with barbed wire that surrounded our two acres when we bought the place. All our neighbors and visitors have told us how much they love the fence being gone, how beautiful the forest […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[7777,7776,7778,7753,4305],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6139"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6139"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6139\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6148,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6139\/revisions\/6148"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6139"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6139"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6139"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}