Davy's On The Road Again Ch. 16byoldhippie1949©
If you haven't read the previous installments of "Davy's On The Road Again", I suggest you read them so you can get up to speed. If you are too young, too prudish or not into reading about sex in its many combinations, then what are you doing here?
Hello, my friends. It's been a long season since we've communicated and I thought now that things seem to be settling down, I would bring you up to date in my ongoing saga. To tell you the truth, I'm pretty exhausted these days and very glad to be home with Amy again. In fact, the last few years have been a whirlwind for me and I'm surprised that exhaustion isn't my biggest health issue. Let's just be happy that's all I can bitch about.
My life has been a lottery win. Considering that only a few years ago, my only retirement plan was to die, everything that has happened is nothing short of miraculous. They say that money can't buy happiness but I think that is only partially true. With the addition of some luck, money can buy you breathing space, breathing space can bring you focus, focus can direct you toward attaining your goals, attaining your goals can provide satisfaction, satisfaction can grant you peace of mind and peace of mind can bestow happiness. So I raise my glass to the New York State Lottery Commission for getting me back on my feet and starting my ball(s) rolling again.
What I really want to do here is bring you up to speed with my life. I've received so many nice emails and letters asking me to continue my saga (and while I had no intention to do so), I realized that it was okay so why not, you know? Not that I want to pander to my fan base, I don't. In a way, my writing you is therapeutic for me. It reminds me of where I've been, what I do and what may be for me in the future. It feels good to air it all out. It feels better to receive your good vibes.
Everything, it seems, rolls up to Amy, my love, my muse, my best friend and my blessing. Our partnership is one of sublime synergy. We've reached a stage where we finish each other's thoughts. My songs are all collaborations now. Everything I write she polishes like fine jewels and the opposite is true, too. We even cum together. To say that we're on the same page is to read only the cover leaf. I feel as though my life is full. She completes me and I am a far better person.
For a while, during the East Coast swing, we were based out of New York. Amy convinced me that we should go to the clinic and find out of my frozen straws of sperm could impregnate her. I knew that she so much wanted a baby that I couldn't refuse her, nor did I want to. Like everything else in my life over the last few years, nothing I planned ever happened. So why not live by chance? All the other things around me would continue, so why not follow instincts? As it turned out, my frozen sperm had the strength of a prize bull. A few weeks after our first attempt, Amy woke me in the middle of the night.
"It worked, Davy,"
"What worked, baby?"
"The baby! It worked. I know it. I feel it. I feel different. I feel great." The sentences tumbled out of her. Her skin glowed bright even in the darkened room. "I was dreaming in my sleep and I felt our little boy talking to me. He asked me to sing to him. I woke up and I could feel him!"
The next day, we went back to the clinic and damned if she wasn't right. Immediately, I started making plans to take her off the Breadbasket Tour but she would hear none of it. "My baby wants me to sing to him and so I shall." There was no discussing it with her. She knew that she had to do this. And why not live by instinct, right? As we walked down Fifth Avenue, I steered her into Tiffany's and bought her an emerald pendant. Since that first day, I can't stop doing for her. Damn, if she asked me, I'd carry her around on my back.
The first to know were Sally, Stevie, Mark and Deb. Over lunch at Joe Allen's, the women were plotzing over the pendent when Sally started to cry. She just knew. There were a lot of tears and backslaps during that lunch. A bottle of Bollinger 1971 became a "dead soldier" very quickly. Within hours it seemed that everyone knew. It even ended up on Page Six a couple of days later.
Word quickly got around the tour and everyone was crazy with joy for us. The constant party seemed to jack up a level. Clooney told us to come to Lake Como whenever we needed to rest up. Buffett arranged with Richard Branson to have the entourage vacation on Necker Island. We did both but I'll get to all of that later.
So here it is, months later, the very successful (musically and fund-raisingly) tour ended, back from Italy and Amy's belly is almost ready to pop. Her tits are huge although fortunately not in the Aretha Franklin range, thank God. And yup, it is a boy in there. We've been dancing over names but since it's bad luck to talk about that, you'll have to wait for the birth announcement.
Also, until a few weeks ago, she was the horniest thing and we sure had a lot of sex but now, it's hands off her. Still, she likes to watch and last night, as Sally and Stevie decided that I need a good fuck, she held my hand as they brought me off. Looking at her rosy, glowing fat face while she lightly stroked her puss made my cum boil.
So now that I've passed along the good news, let me tell you about our summer of the best music of my life. The Breadbasket Tour was one of those once-in-a-lifetime events that will live in my memory forever. I've tried to write songs about it but I find that it's hard to do because I have no aesthetic distance. I also find that a lot of my musical ideas seem copped from other artists I heard on the tour. I think it will take some time before I can write with a fresh approach again. Still, it was an experience that I will always cherish and I'm so glad to have been a part of it.
Midway through the tour, I received this email from a fan who caught the show in St. Louis.
My friends and I caught the Breadbasket Tour at The Verizon. We loved every minute of it. Every act was excellent and everyone seemed to be having fun on stage and in the seats. But, I must tell you that when you were on stage, there was a special vibe in the air. You brought everything to a higher level. On our way home, we were all so happy! You did that for us and I will be eternally grateful. In a shitty economy and a fucked-up world, you seemed to bring hope back...."
That did it for me. As I read it, it all seemed to catch up to me and I began to weep like Speaker John Boehner. To think that my music could do that to people just blew me away. I quickly wrote this song and have since incorporated it into my set.
"It is always there.
Sometimes it seems like it's hiding.
It's just waiting to be recalled.
It is always there for you.
Hope, hope, hope is yours.
Some days, hope is sadly forgotten
Like a memory you never knew you had
And everything feels so awful, so bad
But it will pass.
Every moment is new.
Hope, hope, hope is yours..."
That letter provoked a whole attitude in me and it spread it through the other performers. Where I was, whatever I did, this was my message. It was like a fever. Whenever we did TV appearances, we spread that message - "Hope endures. Hope is Yours". On our amazing set on the Letterman show, both Dave and the audience seemed to respond enthusiastically as though we had touched a nerve. The feature piece on 60 Minutes helped to spread the message further. And when the Vanity Fair article appeared, the message became viral. When we performed in Washington D.C. on the National Mall, The President told me that our message of hope had transformed the country, had revitalized the public, had crossed all social barriers and had displayed the greatness to which our nation aspires. I have never felt so blessed and so humbled that I could be the vessel of hope.
I kept a journal going during the tour. What follows are some of my thoughts. I have only edited a little bit out and some of the names are suppressed because I have no business sharing them with the rest of the world. Sorry about that but I want to remain friends with these people, you know? I've also polished up some of my thoughts and made them more (I hope) linear and readable.
Our opening shows. We played two, one on Friday and one on Sunday. First show was shaky with getting all the bugs out but Springsteen was amazing and his duet with Dylan was purely electrifying. My set was fun and well received. I added Ed Begley on bass and had him lead on "Pleasant Valley Sunday" which was a scream. I brought out Clooney to do his "Man of Constant Sorrow" shtick and that brought down the house. I also enjoyed Crosby, Still and Nash, all in fine voice. At one point in their set, they brought out Richie Furay and did a couple of Buffalo Springfield and Poco songs. With J.D. Souther, Jackson Browne and Chris Hillman on back-up vocals, it was a fine L.A. reunion.
...Santo is staying with Clarence and Rosemary at our house in Aspen and we miss him. It's the first time without my buddy and it's a little unsettling. I know that he's well cared for but still, it's like a piece of me is missing...
...We stayed with Mark and Deb and had a furious foursome the night before the show. Deb is really into her strap-on these days as my asshole can substantiate. She really pounded me. Fortunately, Mark's lips around my dick distracted me and took some of the pain away. We moved to the pool under the moonlight and Amy blew us both at the same time which was not only exciting for both of us but very satisfying for Amy. She couldn't swallow both our loads and our cum covered her chin as it dripped out of her. Deb's snowball helped clean the mess up. We stayed up very late and, like little kids, we played and giggled. It was especially amusing when we ate ice cream off each other. Like the old joke punch line, "it looked so good I almost ate it myself."
...Going to drive up to San Francisco in Big Chocolate with a full bus to our next show. Elon and Susan will drive it back to L.A. afterwards as Elon has some new ideas for it. He also intends to take it on a bit of a road trip and I know they will have a great time. I can't wait to see what he has in store but he won't tell me. He hinted at some new higher CPU storage and more efficient Lithium batteries from Korea that he wants to install. He's also talked about updating the displays and adding some other toys.
...The ride up the coast was hilarious. A lot of wine, a lot of smoke and tons of laughs. Hillman knew of a nude beach near Cayucos and the sight of twenty-five crazy rock and rollers running nude into the surf was a gas. Someone told us that sharks were spotted nearby and we all ran out faster than we ran in. We sat around on blankets getting high during lunch. Did you know that when naked, rock stars have some interesting tattoos. I was amazed by J--- who has a tattoo of public hair! Another star, who is notoriously gay, has a tattoo of a target on his butt cheeks. Bull's-eye!
...The S.F. show came together and showed the real promise of this tour. Van Morrison performed a surprise set as did Neil Young. Young pissed everybody off because before his set, he made demands for money. Graham, Stephen and Leon Russell calmed him down but it still left a bad taste in everyone's mouth. But that's always been his story: money, money, money and more money. At least he's not a tightwad like "Two-Dollar Bill" Joel, who got that nickname for the size of the tip he leaves...
Neil came out and sang "Helplessly Hoping" with Graham, David and Stephen. Stephen was having problems with his voice (probably hoarse from our trip north) and I substituted his vocal parts. We were introduced as C,S,N,Y & Harper and, for me, it was pure magic. Inside, I was shaking.
Van followed us and killed. With a phrasing like no one else and a band that follows every breath, he is a master. I've always performed "Into The Mystic" and, tonight, his version was pure magic but long after the show was over, I couldn't get this song out of my head:
"Oh, the smell of the bakery from across the street got in my nose
As we carried our ladders down the street with the wrought-iron rows
I went home and listened to Jimmy Rodgers in my lunch-break
Bought five Woodbines at the shop on the corner and went straight back to work.
What's my line?
I'm happy cleaning windows.
Take my time
I'll see you when my love grows.
Baby don't let it slide
I'm a working man in my prime
Cleaning windows (number thirty-six)..."
What a great rhythmic swing to that song. It just creeps in under your skin and stays there. A few nights later, Mark and I were talking about Van. Mark talked about working on one of his records, about how much fun it was and how peculiar Van is. Mark explained to me that many of Van's songs take place in a time when he was a teenager which not only made a lot of sense to me but also explained the meaning of many of his songs. Wherever he draws his inspiration, his music is unique, intelligent and oh so soulful. He is one of my favorites and an inspiration.
...Other San Francisco highlights for me were The Black Keys, an amazing duo, Boz Scaggs, Mike MacDonald and Donald Fagen were very, very cool...
One night, after Elon took our bus to Menlo Park, we played "Spooey" in our hotel room. I'd never heard of this game before but as I was ripped to the gills on some Oaxacan, I was willing. There were ten of us sitting around as Sally explained the rules. The rules were simple. The men had to sit in a circle and jerk off on an apple. The last guy to jerk off had to eat the apple. While the ladies cheered us on, ropes of cum shot across the apple. It was hilarious. Fortunately, E----, with the target tattooed on his ass, was the last. I think he intentionally held back so he could enjoy his dessert. And enjoy it he did while we rolled around the floor, holding our sides and laughing our asses off.
...Caught some needed sleep on the plane. The Vanity Fair article hit the stands today and Amy, Annie Liebovitz (our official tour photographer) and I devoured it. I was somewhat embarrassed to read Laura's gushing take on us. I knew that this article was a game changer.
Amy brought down the house on this night. She was as surprised as I. I mean, I knew her spot was terrific but, to me, it was always terrific and I admit to being prejudiced. For some reason, this room loved her more than we had ever experienced and they showed it. It was a humbling experience but also precisely what an artist on stage lives for. When you hear that roar, that sonic mash of indistinguishable sound coming from the audience, it is like nothing you've ever experienced before. It is a rush like no drug can ever provide. When we finally made it backstage, she broke down in a tsunami of tears. Other artists rushed around her. Etta James gave her a huge hug and comforted her, telling her that she had just reached the zenith of an audience's love and appreciation, that it only happens maybe once or twice in a career if ever, and that she was entitled to relish every moment of it. It was something she would never forget. That night in bed, we talked about it for quite a while until she finally collapsed in a combination of exhaustion, overstimulation and thrill.
...Also notable that night were Scott Weiland and the band, Temple Of The Dog. Both acts did killer sets in front of their hometown crowds. But on this night, it belonged to my Amy.
...a week off between shows and we're here in our home. The studio is a work in progress but much has been done. The board is almost set up as are the acoustic tiles and baffles. I intend to test it out one day this week. The Caretaker's House is under also under construction and coming along nicely. It's an energy-conscious modular home in a rustic style. I'm hoping that Clarence and Rosemary can move into it in the next couple of months. This is important as I have learned that their house is falling apart around them. Clarence told me that the house was built in the very early twentieth century and he's surprised that the drafty old place lasted this long. I'm also going to talk to a local contractor about doing a conversion of our house to geothermal heating. I want to lower our footprint and provide natural heating to the water system...
...Elon called to tell me that he thought he might bring Big Chocolate back this week but due to a series of meetings, it was not possible. Plus, he said that he was having too much fun with it and we would have to wait. It certainly didn't bother me. I told him to hold onto it. Anyway, I was just glad for the down time...
Stevie called me to tell me that a bunch of his friends were going over to The Belly Up to see Skrillex so Amy and I met them there. It was cool and they are a very interesting band. I was kind of glad that the crowd was young in that nobody bothered us, most likely because they didn't know who we were. Not that my fans are aggressive or anything like that, I mean that we were left alone and sort of incognito, just enjoying the band and the scene like everyone else. Like at the Stephen Talkhouse in Amagansett, music people can walk in, hang at the bar and watch the show without dealing with over-friendly zealous fans. You see, what fans don't seem to realize is that, at our core, we (musicians) are fans, too. That's what we are. This point really comes home on this tour. We often hang in the wings and watch other artists perform, not because we are competitive (although a lot of us are, myself not included) but because we are fans. When another artist is "on" and is bringing it to the audience, we want to see that and cheer him on. He's bringing it to us, too, and it thrills us. We had a real nice time at the Belly Up and while we were standing outside after the show chewing the fat, Michael, the owner, came out and thanked me and Amy for coming down and for doing good works in his town. It was nice. He tried to press me into playing a gig there but Amy gracefully eased us out of a commitment saying that our calendar was pretty thick at the moment. (I swear, sometimes I think she should have a job at the U.N.) I told him that I'm sure we'd do something together one of these days. As we walked to the car, a very young kid ran up to us and asked for an autograph...for his mother! Oh, well, that's how it is these days.
...While we were on tour, our estate management team got wind of a sale of land adjacent to our property and riparian to the far side of the lake. With our eager blessings, the purchase of 370 acres was arranged. Now, our land runs from the road all the way up the mountain and over. The "secret" house is now attached to the rest of our land. Amy and I made a gift of the sacred lands to the Shoshone Nation. They plan to block the access road with gates to prevent any interlopers from coming onto that land and that's just fine with us. Up on the other side of the mountain, we want to construct a "fresh air" camp for urban kids. We had the idea of hiring some of our Yellowstone Ranger friends to run the place and take up residence there. Fortunately, Ranger Williams and his wife were all for it. Rusty is also eager to handle the ranch part of the camp. Both rangers have put in their time with the Department of The Interior and see this opportunity as a form of retirement. We intend to make it worth their while. We already have an architect working on plans.
...Santo really missed us and has been slobbering all over us since we drove up to the house. He jumped about and cried out with joy for nearly an hour. He can't stop licking me. Earlier, when I was sitting by the pool, he crawled under my chair and was licking my feet. A little while later, we rolled around on the grass as I scratched his belly and I could clearly tell that he was laughing. I love this animal. He's my buddy...