More than a Picture, Part 1

Complete Pornoetry

Gutter Folk is unfortunately, tragically, obsessed with the Bottom Line. Largely because it lives there, at the Bottom.

In the Beginning

In the beginning, God created music. And it was Good.
And he created 4 angels to sing his most noble works, and these he called The Beatles.
But there was a rebel angel who was filled with spite and envy that the English should get all the very best songs. This angel had the sweetest voice in creation but no songs worth singing and so he conspired to steal God's songbook and flee to Earth. This he did, but in His anger God cursed him, stealing back the golden voice with which the rebel angel had been blessed.
But the angel -who's name was Bob Dylan- just laughed. He had the best songs ever written now, what did it matter about the voice?
And so did Folk Music entered the World. And it was Good.

A Cowboy goes East

Did you know that God kills a kitten every time he sees you masterbate? It's true; and that is why you must never let God catch you, because kittens are a precious natural resource.

-From the Liner Notes of 'Pornoetry' released in 2010.

Edit: Apparently, He will wave this ghastly punishment if you jerk off to Gospel Music. Yes, Sir!!!

Introduction

When we were first introduced, I was struck by his agelessness. He appeared neither young, nor old, nor middle-aged. His face was smooth and unlined, but the eyes which peered out over black plastic frames spoke of experience and the thin white streak in his otherwise dark hair confirmed it. The hair, of course, was largely covered by the battered black fedora which he is rarely seen without. The cane that went with it was there, of course, and the hand not holding it shook mine with a grip that was brief, but solid.
"You must be Gypsy Crow," he said, and I nodded, for I was.
He gave me his own name which I knew as well as my own and asked me for a cigarette. He invited me to sit down. I accepted. We sat and we smoked in silence for a minute before he said, not looking at me, "A man's whole life is a song, did you know this?"
No, I told him, I did not know this.
"Epic, majestic, titanic songs," he said, "Always beginning with birth and always ending in death and in between are major and minor keys, changes in melody and time..." He trailed off and was quiet a moment. He dropped his cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his heel.
"A man's afterlife is a song as well," he said. "A soul is like a concept album, did you know this?"
I allowed as I did not know this either. But already I was learning.

Hunger

His rail thin appearance is legendary; oftentimes the mere sight of him is enough to send conscientious mothers into fits trying to feed him. But Jeremy Owen has a history with food.
"I try never to touch the stuff," he confided as we met for a second time at a diner off Broadway. I myself ordered a large plate of french fries which he was disinclined to share.
"You've read the popular stories, I assume?" he asked and I nodded. While not the best topic for those wishing to keep their appetite, the reasoning -if you can call it that- for Jeremy's dislike of food is well-known.
"Well, it's not true," he said as I nearly choked on a fry.
"Not true?" I managed.
He nodded. "Yeah, well, I had to say something, didn't I? And the story that's out there, well, it's kindof true-" he held his thumb and forefinger a half-inch apart to demonstrate just how little truth the myth contained.
"The truth is," he continued, "that a Folk singer, a Gutter Folk singer should be hungry. Always. Even if you can afford food, abstain. That hunger reminds of you the hunger you should feel in your heart. Always. Because that hunger is the fuel that drives your art."