Telegraph Road
There's an old Dire Straits song that just kills me...it's about the revitalization of society after a catastrophic event, or maybe just after the start of it all. Or perhaps about trying to pick up the pieces after a life-changing event... Like the loss of a best friend... Saw Knopfler sing it. Having a hard time getting through it. Can understand the start over...begin again sentiment.
And we all will be there...eventually. We all somehow or another will find the need to begin again. Even when beginning again is absolutely ridiculous to our sensibilities. Even when the loss is too much. Even after what we lost is too much to bear.
"Well, a long time ago came on a man on a track walking thirty miles with a sack on his back, and he put down his load where he thought it was the best. He made a home in the wilderness. He built a cabin and a winter store and he plowed up the ground by the cold lake shore and the other travelers came walking down the track and they never went further, no, they never went back. And then came the churches and then came the schools and then came the lawyers and then came the rules. Then came the trains and the trucks with their loads and the dirty old track was the Telegraph Road."
And Knopfler moves just one verse later into the complications of life.
"Then came the mines and then came the oil. Then was the hard times then there was a war, telegraph sang a song about the world outside. Telegraph road was so deep and so wide - like a rolling river.
"And my radio says tonight its going to freeze. People driving home from the factories. Six lanes of traffic. Three lanes moving slow."
My God - taking you fron one point to another as a reader...in 60 words. Incredible. From the start of Telegraph Road to six lanes moving slow...awesome.
Yet when you speak of writing, it has to come from the inside out - from the vast to the intimate. From where it hurts to the real world. The sort of writing that gets me excited about the craft. God, I want to write some more!
Incredible stuff!
And I used to like to go to work, but they shut it down. I got a right to go to work but there's no work here to be found. Yes, and they say we're going to have to pay were told. We're going to have to reap from some seed that's been sown and the birds on the wires on this telegraph poles well they can always fly away from this rain and this cold.
From these rivers of headlights, these rivers of rain, as I've run ever redlight for memory lane and I've seen desperation explode into pain, and I don't want to see you hurt again. The birds on the wire and the telegraph code... They can always fly away from this rain and this road. You can hear them singing out all along this telegraph road.
I seem to forget, but I remember the nights. Life was just a bet on the race between the lights. You had your hand on my shoulder, you had your hand in my hair. Now you act a little cold, like you don't seem to care."
Well just believe in me baby and I'll take you away from out of this darkness and into the day from these rivers of headlights, from these rivers of rain as I run every red light from memory lane and I've seen desperation explode into pain. From all of these signs saying sorry but we're closed, all the way down the Telegraph Road.
And I don't know why...
Trying to relax.
Trying to remember the things I can't forget.
Caught between hurt and longing.
Stuck in the middle of missing and trying to make new memories.
Lost.
Fucking lost.
And I seem to forget, but I remember the nights. Life was just a bet on the race between the lights.
Life...once so simple.
So complicated.
All the way...
...down the telegraph road.
And we all will be there...eventually. We all somehow or another will find the need to begin again. Even when beginning again is absolutely ridiculous to our sensibilities. Even when the loss is too much. Even after what we lost is too much to bear.
"Well, a long time ago came on a man on a track walking thirty miles with a sack on his back, and he put down his load where he thought it was the best. He made a home in the wilderness. He built a cabin and a winter store and he plowed up the ground by the cold lake shore and the other travelers came walking down the track and they never went further, no, they never went back. And then came the churches and then came the schools and then came the lawyers and then came the rules. Then came the trains and the trucks with their loads and the dirty old track was the Telegraph Road."
And Knopfler moves just one verse later into the complications of life.
"Then came the mines and then came the oil. Then was the hard times then there was a war, telegraph sang a song about the world outside. Telegraph road was so deep and so wide - like a rolling river.
"And my radio says tonight its going to freeze. People driving home from the factories. Six lanes of traffic. Three lanes moving slow."
My God - taking you fron one point to another as a reader...in 60 words. Incredible. From the start of Telegraph Road to six lanes moving slow...awesome.
Yet when you speak of writing, it has to come from the inside out - from the vast to the intimate. From where it hurts to the real world. The sort of writing that gets me excited about the craft. God, I want to write some more!
Incredible stuff!
And I used to like to go to work, but they shut it down. I got a right to go to work but there's no work here to be found. Yes, and they say we're going to have to pay were told. We're going to have to reap from some seed that's been sown and the birds on the wires on this telegraph poles well they can always fly away from this rain and this cold.
From these rivers of headlights, these rivers of rain, as I've run ever redlight for memory lane and I've seen desperation explode into pain, and I don't want to see you hurt again. The birds on the wire and the telegraph code... They can always fly away from this rain and this road. You can hear them singing out all along this telegraph road.
I seem to forget, but I remember the nights. Life was just a bet on the race between the lights. You had your hand on my shoulder, you had your hand in my hair. Now you act a little cold, like you don't seem to care."
Well just believe in me baby and I'll take you away from out of this darkness and into the day from these rivers of headlights, from these rivers of rain as I run every red light from memory lane and I've seen desperation explode into pain. From all of these signs saying sorry but we're closed, all the way down the Telegraph Road.
And I don't know why...
Trying to relax.
Trying to remember the things I can't forget.
Caught between hurt and longing.
Stuck in the middle of missing and trying to make new memories.
Lost.
Fucking lost.
And I seem to forget, but I remember the nights. Life was just a bet on the race between the lights.
Life...once so simple.
So complicated.
All the way...
...down the telegraph road.
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