I Only Want To Know About Love

Russell Chatham's images "graced" the cover many of the books I read in the 1970s and 80s.  He was buddies with Jim Harrison, Thomas McGuane, et. al.  I thought the books required reading at the time.  I don't think any of them hold up as great literature now.  They may barely, if even, qualify as "literature."  

But they were certainly the fiction of the time.  

These were a group of "outdoorsmen."  

Why are you using so many quotation marks? 

The words seem hackneyed to me, that is all.

They liked to fish and hike and hunt.  Not so much hunting, I think, but they did enjoy eating wild game.  Only McGuane is left, living in Montana, a horseman and a rancher.  He is the only one of the lot who gave up liquor, and, strangely for a rancher, became a vegetarian.  McGuane married Jimmy Buffet's sister.  McGuane helped give Buffet's career a boost by hiring him to compose the soundtrack for the movie he directed in 1975, "Rancho Deluxe."  Oddly enough, Buffet's books of fiction wildly outsold both Harrison's and McGuane's.  

All part of a colorful past.  I've already regaled you with tales of my own encounter with Harrison, McGuane, Chatham, et. al. at a reception in Key West, probably twice, so I won't repeat it here again. . . though I am terribly tempted.  My dead ex-friend Brando was with me then as I'd invited him to come along.  

"Why did you do that?!?" he queried.  

I still don't know.  It was simply spontaneous.  

Anyway, as my mother likes to say, that is not a Chatham painting at the top.  I got ChatGPT to make me one.  It is pretty good and could fool you.  I sent it to Travis who owns or owned several lithographs by Chatham.  I saw one in his house one day and have since bought several for myself.  They have remained stored for years now as they are huge and I can't afford to have them framed.  

The idea of living in nature was much borrowed from Hemingway, I think,

"Ernest Hemingway believed nature was a restorative, yet often destructive, force that acted as an ultimate testing ground for human endurance, morality, and skill."

That pretty much sums it up, nature as an existential paradox. His "Big, Two-Hearted River," best illustrates this, I think.  Nick, back from the war, attempts to succor his shattered psyche with a solo fishing trip where he fears to fish the swamp, still too fragile for the adventure.  

So much for the myth of the macho Hemingway hero.  He was always wounded and afraid in some fashion, and are always on the losing side of life's arguments.  

Bukowski captured the sentiment with the title--"What Matters Most Is How Well You Walk Through the Fire." 

Chatham's paintings were collected by Hollywood stars like Jack Nicholson and sold for too much money.  Like the "literary" works of the group, I think his paintings are pleasant and decorative, but not so much serious art.  He was an illustrator in the manner of Rockwell Kent whose paintings I also like.  

But Harrison, McGuane, and Chatham did little to change or shape the trajectory of art.  

I shouldn't leave out Buffet.  

For a while, though, I subscribed. 

Selavy.  

What moral can we take away from all of this?  Quit drinking and doing drugs and become a vegan if you want to live longer than your buddies.  That's about it, though there are no guarantees.  My old college roommate is in terrible shape and never really drank or did drugs at all.  I figure it was ideology that did him harm.  

Back to Zydeco.  This was the song that caught my ear the other night.  I knew the song but couldn't put my finger on who or why.  

It was killing me, so I Googled it.  Ahhh. . . yes. . . of course.  It was Beth Orton.  Turn of the century music that wonderfully tortured me as I longed for the girl who had taken up permanent residence in my head.  

But wait!  WTF?  I found a version by Dr. John.  Dr. John?  Yea.

How old was the song, I wondered?  Did Dr. John write it?  

You can stop here if you want.  If you haven't already. But I'm going on.  I found a version by Richie Havens.  Shit was getting weird.  The song has been recorded again and again and again in so many ways.  

There are many, many more, even one by Santana.  But I drilled down and found a version by the guy who wrote and originally recorded it.  

As I say, there are more recordings of this song, but these, I think, are all lovely.  

Now go back and listen to the Zydeco version.  It has a good energy, a good vibe.  It will make you want to tap your foot and get going on the first Saturday in April.