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ROLLING WITH JAMES JOYCE ON AN IRISH HILL

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ODE TO THE BOOKISH GIRLS

The blues and the reds

blues reds Audrey hepburn moon river“Blues reds, the mean reds, the blues or whatever you want to call them…”

You know when you get the blues or the mean reds? The blues and the reds — whatever you want to call them — well, there isn’t much you can do with yourself but to linger somewhere that makes you feel better.

Some people go have breakfast at Tiffany’s; I go sit on the fire escape of this small apartment building in New York to listen to the woman, who says ‘darling’ more times than I ever could, sing.

Resting my back to the brick wall in lose fitted pants and a knitted sweater, I always stay one floor down from her, waiting for the first few strings of her guitar to be played. Hers is a soft voice, melancholic, but not weary, and the song she sings, well, it is about everything and nothing, just as I go on thinking about everything and about nothing.

It takes me a while to come out from under the cloud of the blues and the reds — I am not sure whether I am ever completely out from under it. I usually need the woman to play her guitar and sing a couple of times…

 

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