It’s two o’clock in the morning and the moon is shining bright
I just get to wonderin’ where my baby is tonight
I wrote this one many moons ago in New York City. It’s a standard 12-bar blues. I was just playing it again yesterday. I used a different sort of rhythm, and for some reason I played it very slow.
Anyway here’s to the good ol’ days and here’s to the blues too.
Since I wrote this song back in New York I’m throwing in an exerpt from my novel Up in the Bronx.
“Something has to happen,” he told himself, reminded himself, repeated to himself – like a silent prayer, like the fingering of rosary beads – as he passed through the grand hall of Grand Central Station.
A familiar feeling slowly came to him. A tension, an energy. It belonged to the City. Everyone was moving toward something, going somewhere, waiting for something, or someone. For Jack, his something and someone was going away. Maria. Leaving him with her love as her gift. Last night they had made love slowly and sweetly, and he could still recall the feel of it, even as he walked through the big station. They had made love to their own world, and had said goodbye to it. It was over. Sweetly. Lovingly. But over. Jack glided through the traffic of people, the swarms of faceless people rushing in streams past each other – each on to their own destinies, their personal illusions. Jack passed along with the others through the great lobby of Grand Central Station. He raised his eyes to examine the high marble walls and painted ceiling. His heart felt lighter. He proceeded through the lobby and out through the swinging wooden doors onto a sunny 42nd Street. Another day.