Philosopher-In-Chief

May 2 - This part of the song always calls me back to remember it thoroughly. I’ll need to go through it again along its melodic line and the refrain. I do it in my mind and so it is in my voice. Or the voice of the original is now mine.

It moves me. I go through memories of specific relationships and their images. Sometimes there are only the emotions that I can never quite figure their origin.

“You used to be the best to make life be life to me

And I hope that you're still out there and you're like you used to be

We'll have ourselves a time

And we'll dance 'til the morning sun

And we'll let the good times come in

And we won't stop 'til we're done

We'll be back in the high life again

All the doors I closed one time will open up again

We'll be back in the high life again

All the eyes that watched us once will smile and take us in

And we'll drink and dance with one hand free

And have the world so easily and oh we'll be a sight to see

Back in the high life again” - Steve Winwood

I would rather sing it quietly to myself right now than try to write about it. We murder to dissect. Most of the music I’ve been listening to lately has been instrumental. But this one comes to mind when I think of a song that has done something to me. I love the original, but the version that Warren Zevon recorded feels closer to me. It has a different timbre ( certainly because their instruments were different and unique to them ) as Zevon was dying of cancer when he recorded his cover of the great Steve Winwood.

This puts in mind a time when I was listening to the music of Little Feat on Spotify. It was late at night and I was very, very far in my cups and was listening to some songs three and four times over. Head phones on. Bottle beside me. I was so deeply in the zone I was a part of the band. Suddenly, I received a text message on the Spotify page from Ed Vasallo. We had a good little chat about the greatness of Little Feat and their lead singer Lowell George. Ed said his greatest was the song “Willin’." I absolutely agreed. He mentioned a version I could find from Linda Ronstadt and Lowell George on a radio program. It was a quick exchange, but I greatly appreciated that he shared it with me. He was at the time isolating, unable by then to go outside as he was so vulnerable with his condition. I was isolating in my own inner demon world. But the contact and exchange I will never forget.

Ed was the person who encouraged me to stop resisting social media and to join Facebook. “You’re gonna see Sid I’m telling you. It’s huge in the future.” When I finally joined he was quick to say, “There you are! See.” 

And here he was on Spotify chatting with me because he could see what I was listening to in real time. I was impressed, but not surprised.

It should be simply quoted in full.

“I been warped by the rain, driven by the snow

I'm drunk and dirty don't ya know, and I'm still, willin'

And I was out on the road late at night

I'd seen my pretty Alice in every head light

Alice, Dallas Alice

I've been from Tucson to Tucumcari

Tehachapi to Tonapah

Driven every kind of rig that's ever been made

Driven the back roads so I wouldn't get weighed

And if you give me weed, whites, and wine

And you show me a sign

I'll be willin', to be movin'

Well I've been kicked by the wind, robbed by the sleet

Had my head stoved in, but I'm still on my feet and I'm still, willin'

Now I smuggled some smokes and folks from Mexico

Baked by the sun, every time I go to Mexico, and I'm still

And I been from Tucson to Tucumcari

Tehachapi to Tonapah

Driven every kind of rig that's ever been made

Driven the back roads so I wouldn't get weighed

And if you give me weed, whites and wine

And you show me a sign

I'll be willin', to be movin’ - Lowell George 

Winwood… https://youtu.be/Adw772km7PQ

Zevon… https://youtu.be/xgs6eLCaN9s

George & Ronstadt… https://youtu.be/1fTPQ0fVeN8

I’ve always preferred long walks out of doors as my exercise. I like to walk to wherever I need to go. Walk on over to auditions, the Actors Studio, company meetings, meet a friend. Even on the rarest occasion like walking out to a restaurant for a date. None of those for now though. 

Solitary walks are necessary even in the best of times. A solitary walk for 90 minutes or two hours is as important as the first meal of the day.

I’m doing that now. Every day. I walk around downtown Manhattan. The other day I walked all the way over to the Hudson River park, then down along to the bottom of the island by Bowling Green and then back up along Broadway through Soho and back home. The following day I took the same exact route to see how it changed. Did I miss anything? Did I fall into any repeated fantasies?

When I get in after a walk it’s good to stretch and then sit quietly. But I’m the kind of person who likes to do something edifying in the day followed by something decadent in the evening.

Last night after my daily constitutional walk, la bonne longue balade, I stretched, took a shower, and experienced an immense feeling of wellness.

As the six o’clock hour arrived I let the crack and pour of an ice cold IPA fill a glass and so fill the room. I studied the can with a picture of a T Rex on it and shook my head. I’m drinking ding dong college radio IPA? I’ve regressed. Who the hell bought this? No one can see me, I thought, so don’t worry too much.

As soon as I started chopping up walnuts and dicing tiny chunks of parmesan cheese - petit brunoise is the cooking term - I was no longer tired of having to cook for myself every damned meal. I focused on keeping every chunk of walnut and parmesan uniform in size. Not easy with the walnuts. They crack and crush any way they like. Then sun-dried tomatoes gave me new challenges with their skins. I need a decent knife! Wait. Sip the sweating beer. Mmm hm.

Fresh thyme on top of the walnuts, cheese, and tomatoes. Then one little clove of garlic grated on the finest plane. Pull the garlic off of the inside onto a plate. Three tablespoons of olive oil on that and work the garlic paste into the oil. Then pour over the pesto and work it around.
Fat! A lot of fat. Good fats. Olive oil and walnuts. My doctor told me the way to reduce my cholesterol was to eat fat! I love that woman. 

“Eat an avocado every single day!” she yells at me. Very inspiring. So I’m eating lots of fats.

A thickly sliced baguette goes on the grill press. I don’t have gas in the apartment. My landlord shut it off. Illegally. I have a sandwich press that I can use to make coffee and heat things.

I’m being harassed in an attempt to get me out of my apartment. But that’s another story. Maybe in a later installment, if in fact I’m given more installments here.

And so, the baguette is nicely toasted and I spoon on the walnut pesto, in french - pistou des noix. Looks lovely. I sip the wine.

O, yes I’ve finished the beer and I’ve cracked a bottle of wine. Inexpensive french red from the Loire. Gulp!

Butter on the naked toasts just off the press. A lot of butter. Think cream cheese schmear. This is not the fat my doctor meant. On top of the butter, anchovies. Salted anchovies.

The crunch, the fat, the textures of the two different toasts. Puts you right in the moment.

That’s all I’ve done. I made some toasts. Some open faced sandwiches. But I’ve done well.

And the wine.

And the night.

Many of the apartments in the buildings neighboring mine are empty. I see from my window their windows are dark. Maybe 70% of the surrounding neighborhood is empty. Those of us who remain light the night sky like boats over the darkened sea. There’s fog obscuring the very top of the Empire State building. It’s beacon light and the lights of many will remain on until the morning light breaks in long beams over the harbor.

Return to the guide.