going where the weather suits my clothes

 

--------------------- [excerpt from Chronicles, by Bob Dylan] ---------------

        ...What I did was come across the country from the Midwest in a four-door sedan, '57 Impala - straight out of Chicago clearing the hell out of there - racing all the way through the smoky towns, winding roads, green fields covered with snow onward, eastbound through the state lines, Ohio, Indiana, Pennsylvania, a twenty-four-hour ride, dozing most of the way in the backseat, making small talk.  My mind fixed on hidden interests . . . eventually riding over the George Washington Bridge.

        The big car came to a full stop on the other side and let me out.  I slammed the door shut behind me, waved good-bye, stepped out onto the hard snow.  The biting wind hit me in the face.  At last I was here, in New York City, a city like a web too intricate to understand and I wasn't going to try.

        I was there to find singers, the ones I'd heard on record - Dave Van Ronk, Peggy Seeger, Ed McCurdy, Brownie McGhee and Sonny Terry, Josh White, The New Lost City Ramblers, Reverend Gary Davis and a bunch of others - most of all to find Woody Guthrie.  New York City, the city that would come to shape my destiny....

        When I arrived it was dead-on winter.  The cold was brutal and every artery of the city was snowpacked, but I'd started out from the frostbitten North Country, a little corner of the earth where the dark frozen woods and icy roads didn't faze me.  I could transcend the limitations.  It wasn't money or love that I was looking for.  

        I had a heightened sense of awareness, was set in my ways, impractical and a visionary to boot.  My mind was strong like a trap and I didn't need any guarantee of validity.  I didn't know a single soul in this dark freezing metropolis but that was all about to change - and quick.

        The Cafe Wha? was a club on MacDougal Street in the heart of Greenwich Village.  The place was a subterranean cavern, liquorless, ill lit, low ceiling, like a wide dining hall with chairs and tables - opened at noon, closed at four in the morning.  Somebody had told me to go there and ask for a singer named Freddy Neil who ran the daytime show at the Wha?. ---------------------------------------------- [end / excerpt]

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Fred Neil wrote the song "Everybody's Talkin'" which was recorded by Harry Nilsson, and became a hit in 1969.

I'm going where the sun keeps shinin' -

Through the pourin' rain

Goin' where the weather suits my clothes...

On You Tube, video titled:

Everybody's Talkin' (1989 Remastered)

uploader / channel:  Harry Nilsson

        -  play and enjoy  -

       

Greenwich Village in 1961

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