Gone North

[The waiter brings soup.]

Tom: What was that big high-speed chase that came through here in the '30s -- remember that?

Waiter: Gosh, I forgot about that.

Tom: There was a bank robbery in the city, and it was like a . . .

Waiter: You're talking about the '30s or the '70s?

Tom: The '30s. There was a shootout at the creamery -- you know the creamery? Big shootout. Three guys dead. The car was on fire, the whole place.

Waiter: I missed out on that one.

Tom: I thought maybe you'd heard something recently about it. It's all in the Library of Congress.

Waiter: That's the first time I heard it.

[The waiter withdraws.]

Tom: They don't like to talk about it here -- afraid they're gonna lose business. I think they stole like half a million dollars. On back roads from Petaluma. Like a Bogart movie. There was a dairy right behind here, and that's where they had this big shootout . . . And afterwards they all came here. And they all made up.

Me: They sat down together.

Tom: You gotta eat. You have to stop a minute and just . . . eat. My stepfather's mom dated Al Capone.

Me: Really?

Tom: Went out on a few dates.

Me: Nothing serious.

Tom: I don't know.

Me: Could have turned into something.

Tom: Could have developed. Who knows? How much of what really happened do you tell? The reason that history is so distorted is 'cause most people aren't talking. Most people really don't want you to know the truth.

[The waiter returns with lasagna.]

Waiter: Tom, you ready for that lasagna?

Tom: Um, yeah . . . I was going to ask you about the Elvis decanters. Was there an abundance of Elvis decanters here for a while? Or did I just create that, out of a desire to see more of them?

Waiter: Well, that may have been. The bartender at one time, who was married to Dolores, who's bartending now, he was an impersonator of Elvis. Maybe you saw him.

Tom: No, I could have sworn I saw . . .

Waiter: I think there's a couple in the bar.

Tom: There's got to be.

Waiter: He may have taken them when he left.

Tom: There it is, you see.

Waiter: The '30s, though.

Tom: The '30s. A high-speed chase. Big bank job. A shootout. All along the Shoreline Highway. Ended up at the creamery. Three guys dead. And afterwards they came over here. It's in the library.

Now I've got to ask a question. Those stories about the glassware. I'm surprised you brought a glass. You set a glass down on a table here. There are certain places here where a glass will fly off the table and hit the wall?

Waiter: I've heard that. [Pointing] Over there.

Tom: Is that why there's no glassware on that particular table? First thing I noticed -- that you'd gone with the plastic cups. A safety feature. What else has happened over there?

Waiter: Pictures.

Tom: Pictures have fallen?

Waiter: Fallen off the wall. That one . . .

Tom: I just saw it move.

Waiter [concerned]: Do you want your check now?

Tom: No. I came for that.

[The waiter withdraws.]

Tom: You notice on trash day how somebody's going through the trash, you stick your head out the window and say, "What the hell you doing in there?" And then they leave and you start going through your own trash? You start re-evaluating the quality of your own trash, wondering if you made some terrible mistake, if you've thrown out something that is now going to be essential to your life.

Kathleen and I came up with this idea of doing music that's surrural -- it's surreal and it's rural, it's surrural. [sings] Everybody's doin' it doin' it doin' it. Surrural. She'll start kind of talking in tongues, and I take it all down. She goes places . . . I can't get to those places. Too, I don't know . . . pragmatic. She's the egret of the family. I'm the mule. I write mostly from the world, the news, and what I really see from the counter, or hear. She's more impressionistic. She dreams like Hieronymus Bosch. She's been a lot of things. She drove a truck for a while. Had her own pilot's license. Worked as a soda jerk. Ran a big hotel in Miami. She was going to be a nun. When I met her, she was at the corner of nun or ruin. So together it's You wash, I'll dry. It works.

She's exposing me to all kinds of things I'd never listen to. It's kind of like trying on hats. "Is that me?" You have to kind of let it all down and not worry about what's hip and what's cool. I guess I'd been trying to find some music that's my own music -- it's like home cooking, you know? Of course if I'm making something just for me, I'm not very picky, I might just pour some sugar in my ear, suck on a piece of dirt in my mouth, light my hair on fire. I'm fine with that.