From the Desk of The DBeazy One-Man-Think-Tank

The Doc said, “We are going to do some lab work,” explaining the names of the tests to be done and what each meant individually and collectively. “I’m afraid of what you might find,” I replied. “But I’m afraid of what I might miss,” I said, my voice trailing off a bit, simultaneously thinking that I’d already missed enough. I knew something wasn’t right. I have known for a while. “This means nothing,” I thought. “This means nothing.”

When I was young, I owed, and still do. Almost from the moment of adulthood, I’ve owed. Now I’m no longer young, and what was owed, all of it is frighteningly close to being paid. I hold little, I own little, and I tread the water, going through the motions, still trying to understand the significance of the “keychain” in “Visions of Johanna.” Meanwhile, Bob cops out, claiming that he “used to do that, but now, he can’t.” Speaking of his songs, Bob Dylan goes so far as to claim that his songs came to him through some sort of magic. He made this claim verbally, knowing that his answer will not cut it amongst those who listen, those who hear, and those who seek understanding within his prosaic lines.

Now, I’m being told that lab work needs to be done and with it, will come results, findings, diagnoses, and treatment plans. A 24-year-old Bob Dylan wrote of the “visions” and I, myself, still hold a few “visions” from the 24^th year of my existence. In fact, name a number, any age, and I’ll tell of my own “visions” of that year, some happy, some not so much. Some “visions” are soft, quiet, and tranquil. Others are hard, poignant, complete with vivid mental images, and just as often, images blurred by the speed in which it all passed.

I’m older now, as already iterated, and my hearing is limited, hell, a lot of what I discern is from reading lips, and sadly, I miss more than I admit, faking it until making it. In conversation, as well as in life, I often fake it until I make it, as others do because it is somehow a requirement. But not knowing all that I don’t know, I listen to Bob Dylan and attempt to understand the meaning of the lines; the meaning between the lines. When he spoke of rain, for example, he meant women, but not always, sometimes, maybe? Somewhere in ambiguity, lies the true meaning, and though I’m not sure about his claim of “magic,” I will say that his mind resided on a frequency not available to the rest of us. Often, I have to rely on reading the lyrics to compensate due to my diminished sense of hearing. Thank goodness for readily accessible lyrics on the Internet. With many of Bob Dylan’s songs, however, merely having access to the lyrics isn’t enough. Critics write about his music and much consideration and study has been given to his words. I’ve spent hours in research and examination, but still, the meaning of the “keychain” eludes me. I read somewhere that Bob Dylan’s lyrics are “literature on vinyl.” Line by line, I’ve read, contemplated, and researched, and still, I’m stuck on the “keychain.”

I await the results and question why, in this day and time, are results not more quickly forthcoming. As I wait, my mind plays tricks, much like “the night” that Bob sang about. I fear any mention of cancer, as many around me are in various stages of life after receiving the terrible news.  My fear of cancer pales though in comparison to the thought of a feeble body housing a lucid mind. Now that I think of it, I believe that the mind and the body should decline concurrently with the result being that one doesn’t reside without the other.

Anxiety builds as I wait. I travel the corridors where framed images hang, each depicting scenes from my mind’s eye. Apparitions, like streaks of lightning, leap from each as I pass, and I stop to dwell on a collection entitled, “Hits and Misses.” Each one is a detailed image of every crossroad I ever approached. I already know the choice made at each, but here is where the lefts and the rights come into play and I foolishly ask, “What if?” I took the trip, but I didn’t tarry long, figuring that ultimately, we make our choices and I made mine and BY GOD, I’ll stand by them. Soon, I’ll make more as I consider the new variables. Then with the best consultation, I’ll adjust my path and I will continue, always with hope filling my sails, victory, my destination, and the meaning of the “keychain,” my prize.

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