chronicles - bob dylan

i didn't finish this book. i have about 6 pages left. i will finish it soon, but i haven't finished it yet.

i want to tell you about it, but i can't because i haven't finished it. i want to tell you about the words and sentences that he uses but I can't. I want to use a quote written by someone else for someone else; how that quote says that a review of the book could be written using only sentences from the book itself.

i suppose i could say some things about the book, things you already know. i could tell you that the first part is about new york: when he first arrives. i could say the second part is about the price of fame and the third part about the recording of oh mercy. i couldn't tell you about the last part because i haven't finished it. i could tell you about the people he meets in new york. the man with fires between him and other people; the hilarious philosophers and the ramblin gamblin comics; the guitar players with the voices from outer space. how he thinks johnny cash's lyrics have the rule of law and the power of god to back them up. how the lost blues and folk men drop megaton bombs in his brain and wield axes and chop and smash everything in their paths and how they sing like their lives depend on it.

i could say how he says that fame isn't worth a damn compared to the important things and the important things are the things that everyone has and the price of fame can't buy you those things anymore that the price of failure or success; how fame is the real destroyer of talent and is enough for you to stop looking because everyone expects you to look and when they find out you didn't see anything they call you a traitor and burn you like they burned the others.

i could tell you about how he says that time has changed and some people, honest people, want you to be like they remember you, but you're not that person anymore. circumstances change and you couldn't go back even if you wanted to, not that you ever would even if the devil offered you the chance. i could say that he said the graveyards are magical places but even magic is sometimes not enough for you and that it takes a talk with a crazy man in a junk shop to put it all back home again, so that you see you wife in the mirror and know that it's time to go and you will never come that way again.

i would like to say more, but i can't. not because i don't want to but because i haven't finished it. i have 6 more pages left. i will tell you about it another time though, when i have finished it.

it will be on a night like this: where the night is black as coal and the stars shine like sliver bullets.