Greetings from Laurel Canyon!
Now Alice needed money. I put ten dollars on the breeze.
As the wind died away, she sank way below her knees.
And as a hurricane passed by, she clutched the money from the sky.
She must have been at least a fathom high.
She works the forty second beat, on forty second street,
With all her golden ambitions, and dead rhinestones in her feet.
And when a stranger said she sucked, she just smiled, believing luck,
As she climbed into his truck, to make a buck.
Oh my god, she’s running ’round the trees,
Said she couldn’t touch them because they’re so real.
Alice you remind me of Manhattan;
The seedy and the snaz, the shoeboys and the satins.
Like a throne made of gilt that too many johns have sat in.
Oh, I got my eyes on you.
It’s the second Friday of ’22, and I’m happy to report for the second Friday in a row I awoke with cool vibes and sunny skies.
I was up late last night writing a letter for my son Jonah’s high school application, and of course I was listening to old and new records, reflecting on the past and what lies ahead in 2022.
I’ve declared ’22 that is the year to “GET OVER IT,” and consequently I’m working every day to get over fucking myself. Lol! So when I heard Ronnie Spector passed I looked at the cup half full and I thank my lucky stars to have lived and breathed some of the golden age of rock ‘n’ roll in both New York and LA.
