Sunday, February 22, 2009

Heaven's Remains

The abyss opens up in the centre of your soul. And this abyss of interior solitude is a hunger that will never be satisfied with any created thing. The only way to find solitude is by hunger and thirst and sorrow and poverty and desire, and the man who has found solitude is empty, as if he had been emptied by death. He has advanced beyond all horizons. There are no directions left in which he can travel. This is a country whose centre is everywhere and whose circumference is nowhere. You do not find it by travelling but by standing still. Yet it is in this loneliness that the deepest activities begin. It is here that you discover act without motion, labor that is profound repose, vision in obscurity, and, beyond all desire, a fulfillment whose limits extend to infinity.
Thomas Merton - New Seeds of Contemplation

"Heaven's Remains" - Copyright © 2009 Frank Trainor
I was ambitious
My blood was cold water

And my brow poured with sweat when it rained

But the heat that came down on my head never burned

Like my passion for Heaven's Remains

I lived in a mansion

Down south by the beaches

Where the money takes different names

A Porsche in the drive and a porch with a sign that said

Welcome to Heaven's Remains

Where there's nothin' to lose and nothin' to gain

There's nothin' at all but a mournful refrain

Paradise is a song pride aches to recall

Every dream of its own is a far cry from home

Here in Heaven's Remains

When I return

To the ashes and mud

When the dust comes to sleep in my veins

There should be a quote on my tombstone engraved

That says good-bye to Heaven's Remains

Where there's nothin' to lose and nothin' to gain

There's nothin’ at all but a mournful refrain

Paradise is a song pride aches to recall

Every dream of its own is a far cry from home

Here in Heaven's Remains

Tuesday, February 03, 2009

Desperados Waiting For A Train

Hey Guy...what's goin’ on man...?

You must be waiting for a train…

I know it takes a lot to laugh...

Naw…I'm just wonderin' why every well I've drilled has gone dry.
I'm always snappin' at the dog & cryin' at the Andy Griffith Show. Whoever said the hand is quicker than the eye has never tried to brush away a tear or ever had his hand burn for a Randall Knife.

Hmmm...I believe you…and trust it’s true

But in the meantime...

I'm gonna start my pickin' right now...

Just tell me where you'll be...

Desperado pointed down the road and said, Eternity!

Eternity…? said Frankie T with a voice as cold as ice.

That's right, said Sam ...Eternity!

Though you might call it Paradise.

I don't call it anything, said Frankie T with a smile.

All right, said Blake, I'll see you after awhile.

What kind of house is this, I said, where I have come to roam?

It's not a house, said Beckham. It's not a house, it's a home.

Chris Gantry, Tony Joe White, Billy Swan, Bob Beckham, Dolly Parton,
Kris Kristofferson - Combine Writers Reunion - photo credit CJ Flanagan

But what was really cool was our CMA week open house...hanging out and diggin' in to fresh New York deli trays flown in special for Sir Charles Koppelman and Marty Bandier...lot of silver limos on the row that week...anyway, we're all hangin' and who walks up to join us but Mickey Newbury and Billy Joe Shaver...and then Stewart Harris asked if I was from Canada and it turned out that he had actually spent an entire summer in the early 70's playing a steady gig in my home province. He worked every other week-end alternating with some other singer who - as it turns out - was me.
We never met because our paths had never crossed but I always wondered just who that other dude was who worked those other week-ends I was off. We met for the very first time 15 years later standing in that Combine/SBK parking lot talking with Guy Clark, Mickey Newbury and Billy Joe Shaver. How about that for mystical coincidence, eh...? Even Robert Earl Keen Jr. thought that story was crazier than Copenhagen. I even played a few of my songs for Billy Joe in the Combine studio. He said; "'re tough...!"
Yeah…well, there ain't nobody tougher than you brother Shaver.

What an amazing day...and wasn't that Craig Bickhardt of SKB arriving as I was heading out to my car...sure looked like him.
These days, I'm a fan of Craig's songwriter blog Ninety Mile Wind.

And how about Tony Joe White at the Cockeyed Camel out there in Belle Meade with Steve Cropper & Duck Dunn...those legendary Muscle Shoals / Memphis MG's chompin & stompin and settin' the hook in the swamp with TJW & his Lightnin' Hopkins soul...that's what I'm talkin' about...and later on tuckin' into a big crappie fry at Leanne & Tony Joe's home in Franklin...great folks...very cool.

I was the pilgrim wasted on the sidewalk...

I was also Billy Dee
…17 when I turned 21…

It’s a long tough difficult story but I had to beat the devil...

So I jumped a greyhound in ’72 and set off to find Kristofferson.

15 years later, I set my suitcase down at Combine Music.

Music City Row. To keep the chilly wind off my guitar.

Did I sign my contract in Kris Kristofferson's office...?

Is that some kind of a trick question...?

Ain't you come a long way...

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