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He's a poet, he's a picker, he's a prophet, he's a pusher
He's a pligrim and a preacher and a problem when he's stoned
He's a walking contradiction, plartly truth and partly fiction
Taking every wrong direction on his lonely way back home
Kris Kristofferson - The Pilgrim
A walking contradiction, yep, that fits.
When I recall Dannye and I will, I will always think about him
in terms of music. Reading his work here, talking to him through brief messages-- I always equated him with
music. The band he played in, the music he loved -and hell yes, the music
he hated. His writing always seemed to have a soundtrack- just like the movies he wrote about. Maybe it is because we both spent a lot of time in the South, maybe because we listened to similar music. Maybe just cos.
But no matter what I will miss him. Here and in the broader sense.
He was a stubborn narrow minded SOB. But,
as so many said -he was our SOB . He still is, and will always be our SOB.
"This is the night of the expanding man
I take one last drag, As I approach the stand
I cried when I wrote this song,
Sue me if I play too long
This brother is free, I'll be what I want to be..."
Deacon blues - Steely Dan
Lastly there is this-
When we die, and folks we know gather to remember us, how do you want to
be remembered?
When your friends/enemies/loved ones share their thoughts- what would be the best you can hope for?
How about this? We are better people for knowing him.
Dannye. Nice knowing you.
In some other time, a thousand miles away,
I played a thousand times before
And like pathetic stars, the truck stops and the rock club walls
I always knew,
You saw them too,
But you never will again
Late -Elliot Smith - Ben Folds