More Old Journal Entries

More edited excerpts from an old journal. I was about 29, living in Somerville, Ma with my apartment mate, Martha, and gigging here and there with different bands in between working full time at Whole Foods Market in Central Square, Cambridge.

Feb. 3, 1994
On the walk home I saw Little Annie Raines in the passenger seat of a Honda Accord. She had that Annie look on her face - the question mark eyebrows... I didn't catch a look at the driver; at first, I thought he might be a date, then I thought it be Paul Rishell. Then I thought he might be a date after all.

I respect Annie, ever since I first saw her perform at the old Cantare's club ("Barefoot Annie," she used to be.) Sometime later, I saw her at The Salvation Army, and I could hear the lady that worked there asking her all kinds of questions about her gig that night. She already had a dress or two all picked out for her. I spied the glittery frocks from where I was standing behind the racks of boys flannels, and Annie made an impression on me. I remembered who she was and felt too shy to introduce myself to her, but still watched from afar. Later, I found out that that was the night she played at Harper's Ferry and won the Best Blues Act with Shirley Lewis, and those glittery dresses and that little girl that played the blues harmonica were a sign of what was to come for me. A year from that day at The Salvation Army, I started playing bass for the glittery Shirley Lewis and her band, The Experee-Ance, with Little Annie Raines on harmonica.

Feb. 28, 1994
I get these ideas from the images of my afternoon at The Salvation Army, when I spied Little Annie Raines (then, "Barefoot Annie") from behind the clothing racks, and the glimmers from the shiny dresses she carried around the store put the Shirley Lewis spell on me and then brought me into her life about a year later. Annie getting devoured with attention by The Salvation Army worker, a black woman with a giddy, motherly affection towards the little blues harmonica player - catering to her like she was a big star, which she was soon to become in a local way. I listened in and learned that she was to be playing that night at Harper's Ferry with the blues band she played in, and I was fixated on the idea that that little Jewish girl from Newton was moaning the blues every night. I thought, she's doing it, I should be, too! I left in a trance and went home, inspired by Annie Cohen, and tried to write a poem about her, but even that did not shake her from the edges of my soul. The glimmer from those show clothes blinded my sight... a calling from the God-like power that channeled through Shirley Lewis. The light of her love pulled me into her embrace of experience. She guided me through into a world seen through her eyes, and though their were many anguishing growing pains, she altered my vision towards new horizons - emotionally, physically and spiritually.

Apr. 4, 1994
Monday morning, no work today, just freedom to do laundry, smoke pot and drink coffee. This past Friday, I went back to Johnny D's again to see Shirley Lewis, et al. Gordon Beadle was playing, and Chuck Chaplin and Mark Barnicle, and two of his Worcester boys as the rhythm section. I got the feeling Barnicle was upset with me, probably rusted by remarks from Ali.. my "attitude...." but, if I call him, I could change all that.

Saturday, I did nothing, and the same people I hung out with on Friday night - Nat, Kevin, Simon and "Schuster" (Stacy, Simon's chick) - came over again.. and we just smoked pot and played a little guitar and watched Saturday Night Live. Sunday, Nat was back by 12 (which was 11 to me, clocks went up an hour), and we spent the day cleaning up the back yard, best we could without a rake. Met Evan, upstairs above Sebastian next door, laying bricks, patch grass and flowers in his back yard. Turns out the other guy that used to live upstairs (David? Mike?) owns the building, and he's a good friend of Evan's. So, I don't know if he lives there alone or what... of course, I immediately scoped out the possibilities of my new neighbor... a face like Gordon's almost, round eyes and round glasses, cheeks like baseball cap grins, ripe like a rosy round apple. Closer to the "dude" mentality - I caught phrases of the current gripe and quandary that seems to plague my generation...."not gonna buy into the corporate game, no way..." On his knees, he digs and plants, the cordless phone cocked on his shoulder at his ear..a conversation with an urban alliance, snap lingo banter constructing a plan for the afternoon... Evan drifted off to his apartment about the same time Nat and I wandered back into mine, our back doors open awhile, welcoming Spring and new friends.