1. Monday, August 18, 2003

    well it was bound to happen. 

    no, not getting linked by the instapundit.

    getting a phone call from mr. bruce springsteen.


    i tried to tell him that nothing on here was true, but he knew it was true.

    he knew he had lost it, hit the wall, become stale and unimportant.

    when he looked at himself he didn’t see the man he wanted to be.

    and he wanted to know from me if i was just a guy who kicked another guy when he was down, or did i have a solution for his lost ass.

    62. o. lawless

    63. shannon

    and i told him that i was a guy who would kick another guy when he was down, but only to wake him up and remind him that he didn’t need to stay down, unless he wanted to stay down.

    with the dust.

    and yesterdays news.

    i told him that if he wanted to know how to get out of it he would have to do a little something from the past and do a little something from the present.

    but he would have to trust it and believe in it and just let it happen and not be afraid, but ultimately do what he has been doing since he was just a scrawny little guy from nowhere.

    he would have to pretend he was elvis.

    everyone thinks that young bruce springsteen was super into bob dylan, but no little kids are into dylan, bruce and his mom were super into elvis, the king.

    bruce even tells a story about hopping the fence at graceland in the middle of the night and knocking on the door in hopes to meet his idol.

    this was the same week in ’78 when bruce graced both time and newsweek.

    elvis isn’t home, he was told, he’s in lake tahoe.

    bruce needs to go to nevada too, but not tahoe, vegas.

    las vegas.

    and that’s where he will regain his mojo.

    laugh all you want and bring up celine dion but you know what, fuck celine dion.

    bruce needs to remember that what was good for sammy, dean, frank, and the king of rock and roll is definitely good enough for the boss. might even be perfect.

    best thing he does is perform live. that’s taking nothing away from his songwriting. he has a gift.

    there’s no doubting his onstage charisma, his instant connection to a crowd.

    he stood in the middle of a baseball park last night for three and a half hours. no opening band. no hit record. 30k fans paying a total of more than $2.2 million for tickets and no one is complaining.

    even though he played 9 songs off the new record

    that nobody really bought.

    bruce needs to go to vegas to regain his soul, to hold court and tell stories, and rock the roof off the mother every night like he still can.

    and he should take his time writing his next record called nevada

    and he should dress up in the second encore

    in an elvis suit that lights up

    and after hes done singing burning love and all shook up and viva las vegas he needs to sing cant help falling in love with you.

    lights dim.

    applause applause

    and then bruce springsteen emerges in the all black leather comeback special outfit

    cuz it is a comeback

    and he rocks us all harder and better than ever and ever.

    then the curtain falls,

    then he needs to take about a half hour of requests

    and after about six months of that if he doesn’t have a record that kicks way more ass than fucking lucky town

    then nothing in this shit is true.

    shellen + sutter + the best article about the biggest u.s. blackout was written by a brit