By J.J. Tindall
CHRISTINA HENDRICKS SAID
A Dream Verite for Albert Maysles, American Film Maker (1926-2015)
Christina Hendricks said
“You’re a writer,
You better get in there,”
Referring to the control room
Of the recording studio
Set up beneath the United Center
For the Rolling Stones
To mix new material.
They were in their ’75 phase,
A Pirate Circus,
Lotus Petal Stage,
All “buffoonery & tomfoolery”
According to Rolling Stone
Magazine.
How could I explain
To Ms. Hendricks
That I was “just a friend?,”
That I wasn’t there to
Help create material,
And that if I was,
I didn’t know it and
It wouldn’t be cool
To make presumptions
And ask questions.
Or: I’m the new Stanley Booth,
Here to document the process,
Be the one outsider back
In the hotel room
When the first roughs
Of “Brown Sugar” get played
And we all groove together
For Albert Maysles.
This kind of thing.
Maybe she was right!
Hey: it was pretty cool
That Christina Hendricks
Had a clue about me.
So: this must, indeed, be
Just a dream. And it is, indeed,
Just a sleeping dream
Recorded “verite.”
After all they were all
Heading to my old apartment
In West Town for a party
Which I was hosting,
Although I had an errand to run
A few blocks away first.
In dreams, that’s where
It all goes downhill,
When you have to leave
When you want to stay.
Sleeping dreams:
Articulate a desire,
Thwart the desire.
Get into a roomful of Stones,
And have to leave?
You’re toast. “SEE ya!”
Getting back is like
Spinal Tap getting lost
Between dressing room
And stage.
But, for whatever reason,
I had to go. Had to.
After all, it was a dream.
On my way back, a storm burst
Upon the night, creating small
Floods along the alleyway
Behind the old converted house,
Once single-family now a two-flat
Along the easily negotiated
Square block grid system
Of West Town, groovy, groovy,
Groovy old apartment.
I never dream
About my current apartment,
I’m always dreaming
Of going back, back to
An old apartment,
An old neighborhood,
GOTTA get back
Home and then I get close
And I realize “SHIT!
I don’t live there
Anymore! I’ll get
Arrested!”
Or finally all the way
Back to our family’s house
In Naperville.
Again, get close and, like,
“SHIT! I don’t live there!
I’m gonna get arrested!”
So this time I’m
Ready to return to my
Groovy old apartment filled
With grizzled old Stones
(I often dream of the Stones.
Always thwarted, but twice
I was actually drumming for them
Onstage but my drums
Weren’t secured to the stage
And moved inexorably
away from me
With each beat. Any other time,
We’re hanging out but then
I step out of the room
And never get back.
Btw this was Ms. Hendricks’
Debut
In my dreams) …
OK: so I’m heading back
To my groovy old West Town apartment
Full of grizzled old Stones
But then suddenly I had that long-lost
Beige duffel bag over my shoulder
Filled with wet laundry,
And it kept getting heavier
And I kept going slower
The closer to the party
I got, finally over-shooting
It by a lot or two, then having
To come back south a block
As well,
Slower and slower,
Heavier and heavier.
By
Then I had to pull on the snowy
Grass turf like it was carpet
Or fabric, just to move myself forward
As the bag got heavier
And my tread bogged down
In the midst of a local street band
Playing electric blues …
–
J.J. Tindall is the Beachwood’s poet-in-residence. He welcomes your comments. Chicagoetry is an exclusive Beachwood collection-in-progress.
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More Tindall:
* Chicagoetry: The Book
* Ready To Rock: The Music
* Kindled Tindall: The Novel
* The Viral Video: The Match Game Dance
Posted on March 31, 2015