Status Updates From Bound for Glory

‘Sail on, little barge, heave on, little tug, pound your guts out, work, dig in, plow this river all to hell. It’ll heal over’

Woody Guthrie #wisdom — mijn all time favoriete boek, Bound for Glory <3

‘I drug my thumb down acrost the strings of the guitar. In the river waters at my feet, I could see the reflection of fire and kids fighting their gang wars and a right young kid up a tree and a mama cat hunting out the squeezed out bodies of her kittens. Clara didn’t look burnt and mana didn’t look crazy in that river water, but kind of pretty.’

‘I took the tune to church, took it holy roller, shot in a few split notes, oozed in a fake one, come down barrel house, hit off a good old cross-country lonesome note or two, trying to get that old guitar to help me, to talk with me, talk for me, and say what I was thinking, just this one time.’

‘She glanced out the window at a stinging bee trying to carry a big load of honey and keep up with our car. “Looky!” This poor little old bee. He’s a havin’ a hard time tryin’ to fly with too much honey!” “Looks like even that little old bee’s all lined up workin’ fer Uncle Sam Deeefense!” her papa said, bending his neck and head around to see the bee.’

‘I strolled from town to town, my guitar slung over my shoulder, and sung along the boweries of forty-two states. Everywhere I went I throwed my hat down and sung for my tips. I crossed the continent twice by way of highway and freights. Folks heard me on the nationwide radio, and thought I was rich and famous, and I didn’t have a nickel to my name, when I was hitting the hard way again.’

‘Instead of getting you all riled up mentally, morally and sexually it done something a lot better, something that’s harder to do, something you need ten times more. It cleared your head up, caused you to fall back and let your draggy bones rest and your muscles go limber like a cat’s. Two little girls were making two thousand working people feel like I felt, rest like I rested.’

‘If a cyclone comes, a flood, a bus load of children freeze to death, a big ship comes down, an airplane falls in your neighborhood, or the working people going out to win a war, you’ll find loads of things you can make a song about. You’ll hear people singing your words, and you’ll sing their songs everywhere you travel; these are the only kind of songs my head or or my guitar has got any room for.’