About a song: Tequila In The C Field from Grope

I remember the night, the last party of the summer, once camp had emptied of campers; counselors left behind to either pack up and leave, or stick around to put the camp to bed for another season.

We gathered up the hill; music, good friends – for many of us, 5 or more summers under our belts. My brothers and sisters, this last night we would spend together.

And Henry – ever Henry – so lucky to have had this last summer with him. We talked at length, my brother and I, and maybe for the first time, he let his guard down fully, an open honesty that I hadn’t realized had been missing to that point.

Even the most sublime people hold their darkness.

We drank tequila, Henry and I, lots of tequila, raising a toast to brotherhood under the starlit darkness of the Catskills’ night sky.

Later, sitting alone in the C-field, as the tequila fought back, I watched the horizon dance to invisible fingers, as if it were a massive organ; distant party music the soundscape to my blurring vision. Obliterated, I slept under the stars, and dreamed of carnivals.

Years later, jamming with a friend, I came across an exultant, discordant chord sequence, kind of grungy, kind of poppy and, as those chords sat with me in the next few days, it seemed they reminded me more and more of those grinning, dancing trees; midway music drifting across the black night.

I remembered tequila, the highs and lows of that night, the sheer being-in-the-moment of love, laughter, and everything it means to be human.

All of it, within me and without: Tequila In The C-Field.

Love-peace-trust,

Vince Sig 131x89

TEQUILA IN THE C FIELD – VINCENT TUCKWOOD

You
You are turning inside of me
you are laughing and joking
Joking and hoping
You are one up on me

You are winding me up
Chilling me down
You are grinding me with your teeth
You can smile and I’m laughing
But it’s all too brief

You
You are churning inside of me
You are cutting and slicing
Dicing and biting
You are puking up on me

You are pissing me down
Winding me up
You are grinding me with your teeth
You can smile and I’m retching
But it’s all too brief

I can’t focus
Your words are turning me green
The trees are grinning at me
Bending over
Laughing

Copyright 2014, Vincent Tuckwood

 

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