Notes from a Hermitage

To get stuff done, you gotta sit down, and stay there

And this is at the grocery store! I’m sticking with the yoghurt.

Back in Saigon, and rainy season is finally living up to its name after a couple of months that were more windy than rainy. But either way, it’s (relatively) cool, which is nice. (In fact, as I go back to edit this, a WALL of water just hit my little terrace, the plants outside just WHIPPING in the wind…it’s really something to see. Happy to be inside.)

Bali was a great little escape and had a far deeper impact on me than I’ve written about. I’m still absorbing it, and what I did there, creatively, but the bottom line was that I will definitely be going back. It won’t be another 35 years before I return.

Every time I’m in Saigon, it’s different, and this time it’s even more solitary than before. But as social as I am, I’m surprisingly good with that.

I went out the other night, to stop by a friend’s bar, and more than a dozen people I knew were there, playing music and drinking and playing pool, and it was a great feeling to be among them. I even got a hug from the Vietnamese bartender.

But the cold I’ve had for the last week kept me off the stage, which was fine by me. I even had to cancel a gig last week after I came down with this, and again, it wasn’t a big bother (except for my booker, sorry Liam!). Very much done with being sick, however.

To every thing there is a season, I’ve found (somebody should write that down!), and after long, social, physical trips as I had in Spain and France, and before that, in Japan, the US and Mexico – and oh yeah, Thailand and Melbourne and Bali – disappearing into my own little world is a deep pleasure – a privilege, even.

I’ve even been – wait for it – reading. Books! This is not normal. But I’ve always liked abnormal. I think back to the first half of my life, when I used to read constantly, and wonder where that young man went. He went everywhere, I guess, which is not a terrible substitute for traveling on the page. But surely, both are possible?

I’ve not been writing so much either, at least not judging by this Substack, and lord, do I judge! But I am writing, a lot, and about things I’ve never written about before. Things I haven’t thought about in many years. I’ve been going deeper, and that’s also a bit unusual for me. When one is flitting around, one tends to stay on the surface. When one slows down or even stops, things tend to go a bit further down, or in. Or perhaps I’m just sinking?

Nah. I feel great. I have had to slow down physically, though, as I have tended to ignore how much I walk, and how much I’ve walked this year. The Camino Mozarabe took more out of me than I had expected, and a friend who’s a sports therapist said that I walk enough – 10-15 or more kilometers on an average day – that some would consider actual training. I might want to have some, I don’t know, days off? She opined that I’ve been over-training, and my muscles (especially the legs) can’t catch a break. This is something that hadn’t even occurred to me.

It’s not about age, she said, which was enormously encouraging, because I tend to blame everything on age, including things that can easily be explained by the need for anybody to have time to recoup and recover and repair. Rest days are not “off” days for the body, they’re when a lot of the work gets done. Note to self.

I’ve also really been enjoying taking a break from alcohol. I’m at seven weeks today, and while I didn’t notice much change – I had half of last year off, so there wasn’t a lot of recovery time needed – but my sleep has been better.

The downside to my booze vacation is that drinking is sport in Saigon, especially among musicians, and some of my friends are elite athletes (alc-letes?). So I’m a bit out of the loop there. But I’m in the scene where it counts: My new little combo has its first rehearsal tomorrow night, so I will be getting my groove on.

Preparing to play with a band has been fun, though like all creative things, I will put it off until I can’t anymore. When I finally pick up the guitar, I have wonderful days like today, during which I pulled out an old song fragment – and when I say “old,” I mean old enough to vote and start a family – and it suddenly blossoms into the song it was meant to be.

I began this song in 2002, and I have long had a very clear vision for it: Very simple, very brash; so simple that I wasn’t sure I could pull it off. I’m still not. But after just banging away on the guitar this afternoon, I found its groove, and it’s even better (and way more fun) than it has been in my mind, where it was just lurking around, being creepy (it’s about death, so fair enough).

But now it’s out in the light, and will, I hope, be on a stage, or online, at some point soon.

There’s one more benefit to being a hermit besides being creative myself: I am able to absorb other people’s creations. I am particularly enjoying their writing, which I tend never to quite get around to. I’m currently reading Mary Carr’s The Liar’s Club.

I’ve even watched a movie or two! I even went to a theater to see The Odyssey, which I thought was good but I had to agree with detractors that some of the casting was strange – Matt Damon isn’t even remotely Greek – but director Christopher Nolan knows his audience, and turned a very ancient story into a very modern American movie. Still, I enjoyed it, and going to a cinema in Saigon is a pleasure simply for the value: First run film, sat on a barcalounger, with popcorn and a Coke, for $5. Plus air conditioning.

In any case, I have recently begun joking that I don’t have the attention span for a full feature film; but when I say it out loud, it’s not that funny. So I’m making an effort.

I also watched two of my old faves, Big Fish and The Fisher King, by two of my favorite directors, Tim Burton and Terry Gilliam. The first always gets me right in the heart, and the latter is one of my favorite myths, played out in my favorite city. Each rewards repeat viewings.

Now that I think about it, all three movies have a mythological feel (or source)…I should watch Oh Brother, Where Art Thou? for good measure.

Anyway…I’m still here, being a hermit again, while I can. I’m working quite a bit, on things I’m not ready to reveal. But this big birthday just passed, while it may have slowed me down a little physically, hasn’t slowed me down in most areas. I’m just trying to respect what walking around in 90 degree heat with 85% humidity does to a body of any age.

And I’ve got a deadline: I hit the road again on September 19, which is only four and a half weeks from today. There is a lot to finish up before I fly, much of which involves the cooperation of, and coordination with, other people: Musicians, doctors, governments, financial institutions and, as always, friends.

So…I guess “hermit” doesn’t quite cover it. Not when you can interact with anyone you like without getting up from your desk.

That said, tonight’s agenda will find me hitting “publish,” then put me on the couch for some reading, some more songwriting (if I feel like it, no pressure!) and a movie (Donnie Darko). Then an early bedtime. Boring? Sometimes. Productive? Not as much as I’d like, of course. But that said, it all feels just about perfect, and I’m enjoying it while it lasts.

Onward (but not quite yet).