Clayton Taylor
08/16/2013
Conversations
Chapter 1 Elvis
"Elvis, how come you stay all locked up in your bedroom, man."
Speaking that Tupelo, Mississippi, Drawl that was the essence of Elvis he said.
"Man, I here music in my head all the time. These pills, " He shakes a carton full of many colors, take me up on a super high,then I've got the ones I take to tumble back down.
I've spun into a cycle I can't pull out of." Elvis looked out the curtains of his sarcophagus, but not really looking out. He had a picture of a sunny day, with Lisa, Priscilla, his dad and beloved mom walking through a spring rich meadow with a sparkling creek flowing through it, about 20' ahead. The sun was shinning through the autumn trees. He was holding Priscilla's finger tips, lightly in his, the trees moving with a gentle spring breeze. I listened with empathy to the most popular entertainer of his time. "I here the music man, and the songs I've sung, and the songs some lonesome, hungry songwriter is putting together to send my way. I feel the lid closing down on me. I dream of being in my box, man. I know the sweet chariot's begun to swing down my way, brother. I don't know when. I know it won't be long. All I can do is keep singing with all my heart and soul. Let me tell you a little story about what a friend of mine said to me one night. I played gigs with Johnny Darrell in the early days. Johnny turned to me one time and said 'you got the juice'. I said I like that, man. I don't know how I got the juice some kind of miracle, I guess. Now, you see, Johnny was a man of few words; funny though when he spoke in tongues people listened." El shot me a glance to see how I reacted to his patented humor. He got me pretty damn good. I tripped when my boot caught the leg of a blue velvet chair. I tumbled and doubled over catching my breath in between bursts of major laughter. Maybe it was the weed I smoked before I arrived, I don't know. He continued. "Johnny could pick hit songs like a farmhand picking tomatoes." El chuckled, and flashed that golden smile he owned. "I loved the sound of Johnny's voice it was like mountain wind echoing this loneliness down into the lowlands of Mississippi and beyond. Johnny was a hybrid of rock-a-billy with a soulful delivery. But to the guys at Warner Brothers he was a sideshow with a touch of country. The guys at WB, could say they had a country artist, thats all. Johnny did not get promoted over at WB. They hung him out to dry." El turned and looked me straight in the eyes. I could see the pain of a broken life in those famous blue eyes. "Hidden in the middle of Johnny's sound was pure blues, man." El turned away looking at that beloved curtain picture. He sang ''coming for to carry me home, coming for to carry me home in at least three heart wrenching variations. I touched him on the shoulder.
"See you round, El." He had drifted away into another song, he was gone. I walked away from him, and gently closed his gold plated door.
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