Bob's Written Word
A Message From Bob Dylan
(Open letter to the Emergency Civil Liberties Committee, December 1963) to anybody it may concern .... clark? mairi? phillip? edith? mr. lamont? countless faces I do not know an all fighters for good things I can not see when I speak of bald heads, I mean bald minds when I speak of the seashore, I mean the restin shore I dint know why I mentioned either of them my life runs in a series of moods in private an in personal ways, sometimes, I, myself, can change the mood I'm in t the mood I like t be in, when I walked thru the doors of the americana hotel, I needed t change my mood ... for reasons inside myself I am a restless soul hungry perhaps wretched it is hard to hear someone you dont know, say "this is what he" "meant" "t say" about something you just said for no one can say what I meant t say absolutely no one at time I even cant that was one of those times my life is lived out daily in the places i feel most comfortable in. these places are places where i am unknown an unstared at. I perform rarely, an when I do, there is a constant commotion burnin at my body an at my mind because of the attention aimed at me. instincts fight my emotion an fears fight my instincts ... I do not claim t be smart by the standards set up I dont even claim to be normal by the standards set up an I do not claim to know any kind of truth but like an artist who puts his painting (after he's painted it) in front of thousands of unknown eyes, I also put my song there that way (after I've made it) it is as easy an as simple as that I can not speak, I can not talk I can only write an I can only sing perhaps I should've sung a song but that wouldn't a been right either for I was given an award not to sing but rather on what I have sung no what I should've said was "thank you very much ladied an gentlemen" yes that is what I should've said an I didn't because I did not know I thought something else was expected of me other than just sayin "thank you" an I didn't know what it was it is a fierce heavy feelin thinkin somethin is expected of you but you dont know what exactly it is .... it brings forth a weird form of guilt I should've remembered "I am BOB DYLAN an I dont have to speak" "I dont have t say nothin if I dont wanna" but I didn't remember I constantly asked myself while eatin supper "what should I say? what should I tell'm?" "everybody else is gonna tell'm somethin" but I could not answer myself I even asked someone who was sittin nex t me an he couldn't tell me either, my mind blew up an needless t say I had t get it back in its rightful shape (whatever that might be) an so I escaped from the big room.... only t hear my name being shouted an the words "git in here," "git in here" overlappin with the findin of my hand being pulled across hundreds of tables with the lights turned on strong.... guidin me back t where I tried t escape from "what should I say? what should I say?" over an over again oh God, I'd a given anything not t be there "shut the lights off at least" people were coughin an my head was poundin an the sounds of mumble jumble sank deep in my skull from all sides of the room until I tore everything loose from my mind an said "just be honest, dylan, just be honest" an so I found myself in front of the plank like I found myself once in the path of a car an I jumped.... jumped with all my bloody might just tryin t get out o the way but first screamin one last song when i spoke of Lee Oswald, I was speakin of the times I was not speakin of his deed if it was his deed the deed speaks for itself but I am sick so sick at hearin "we all share the blame" for every church bombing, gun battle, mine disaster, poverty explosion, an president killing that comes about it is so easy t say "we" an bow our heads together I must say "I" alone an bow my head alone for it is I alone who is livin my life I have beloved companions but they do not eat nor sleep for me an even they must say "I" yes if there's violence in the times then there must be violence in me I am not a perfect mute I haer the thunder an I cant avoid hearin it once this is straight between us, it's then an only then that we can say "we" an really mean it.... an go on from there t do something about it When I spoke of Negroes I was speakin of my Negro friends from harlem an jackson selma an birmingham atlanta, pittsburgh, an all points east west, north, south an wherever else they might happen t be i rat filled rooms an dirt land farms schools, dimestores, factories, pool halls an street corners the ones that dont own trees but know proudly they dont have to not one little bit they dont have t be like they naturally aint t get what they naturally own no more'n anybody else does it only gets things complicated an leads people into thinkin the wrong things black skin is black skin it cant be covered by clothes an made t seem acceptable, well liked an respectable.... t teach that or t think that just tends the flames of another monster myth.... it is naked black skin an nothin else if a Negro has t wear a tie t be a Negro then I must cut off all ties with who he has t do it for I do not know why I wanted t say this that nite perhaps it was just one of the many things in my mind born from the confusion of my times when I spoke about the people that went t Cuba I was speakin of the free right t travel I am not afraid t see things I challenge seein things I am insulted t the depths of my soul when someone I dont know commands that I cant see this an gives me mysterious reasons why I'll get hurt if I do see it.... tellin me at the same time about goodness an badness in people that again I dont know.... I've been told about people all my life about niggers, kikes, wops, bohunks, spicks, chinks, an I been told how they eat, dress, walk, talk, steal, rob an kill but nobody tells me how any of'm cries or laughs or kisses, I'm fed up with most newspapers, radios, tv an movies an the like t tell me, I want now t see an know for myself.... an I accepted that award for all others like me who want t see for themselves.... an who dont want that God-given right taken away stole away or snuck out from beneath them yes a travel ban in the south would protect Americans more, I'm sure, than the one t Cuba but in all honesty I would want t crash that one too do you understand? do you really understand? I mean I want t see. I want t see all I can every place there is t see it my life carries eyes an they're there for one reason the reason t see thru them my country is the Minnesota - North Dakota territory that's where I was born an learned how t walk an it's where I was born an learned how t walk an it's where I was raised an went t school.... my youth was spent wildly among the snowy hills an sky blue lakes, willow fields an abandoned open pit mines, contrary t rumors, I am very proud of where I'm from an also the many blood streams that run in my roots but I would not be doing what I'm doing today if I hadn't come t New York. I was given my direction from new york. I was fed in new york. I was beaten down by new york an I was picked up by new york. I was made t keep going on by new york. I'm speakin now of the people I've met who were strugglin for their lives an other peoples' lives in the thirties an forties an the fifties an look t their times I reach out t their times so, in a sense, I'm jealous of their times t think I have no use for old people is a betrayin thought those that know me know otherwise those that don't, probably're baffled like a friend of mine, jack elliot, who says he was reborn in Oklahoma, I say I was reborn in New York.... there is no age limit stuck on it an no one is more conscious of it than I yes it's a fierce feeling, knowing something you dont know about's expected of you, but it's worse if you blindly try t follow with explodin words (for that's all they can do is explode) an the explodin words're misunderstood I've heard I was misunderstood i do not apologize for myself nor for my fears I do not apologize for any statement which led some t believe "oh my God! I think he's the one that really shot the president" I am a writer an a singer of the words I write A am no speaker nor any politician an my songs speak for me because i Write them in the confinement of my own mind an gave t cope with no one except my own self. I dont have t face anyone with them until long after they're done no I do not apologize for being me nor any part of me but I can return what is rightfully yours at any given time, I have stared at it for a long while now. it is a beautiful award, there is a kindness t mr Paine's face an there is almost a sadness in his smile. his trials show thru his eyes. I know really not much about him but somehow I would like t'sing for him. there is a gentleness in his way yes thru all my flounderin wildness, I am, when it comes down to it, very proud that you have given this t me. I would hang it high, an let my friends see in it what I see, but I also would give it back, if you wish. There is no sense in keeping it if you're made a mistake in givin it. fir it means more'n any story bought thing and it'd only be cheetin t keep it also I did not know that the dinner was a donation dinner. I did not know you were gonna ask anyone for money, an I understand you lost money on the masterful way I expressed myself.... then I am in debt t you not a money debt but rather a moral debt if you'd sold me something then it'd be a money debt but you sold nothin, so it's a moral debt an moral debts're worse'n money debts for they have t be paid back in whatever is missing an in this case it's money please send me a bill an I shall pay it no matter what the sum I have a hatred of debts an want to be even in the best way I can you needn't think about this, for money mens very little t me so then I'll return once again t the road I can't tell you why other people write, but I write in order to keep from going insane my head, I expect'd turn inside out if my hands were t leave me but i hardly ever talk about why I write, an I scarcely ever think about it, the thought of it is too alarmin an I never ever talk about why I speak but that's because I never do it. this is the first time I am talkin about it.... an I pray the last the thought of doing it again is too scary ha! it's a scary world but only once in a while huh? I love you all up there an the ones i dont love it's only because I do no know them an have not seen them.... God it's so hard hatin it. it's so tiresome.... an after hatin something to death, it's never worth the bother and trouble out! out! brief candle life's but an open window an I must jump back thru it now see yuh respectfully an unrespectfully bob dylan
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