Gold Dust Woman

"Well did she make you cry
Make you break down
Shatter your illusions of love
And is it over now
Do you know how
Pick up the pieces and go home"

Not at that point, the crying came later. Although she had disappeared, she hadn't told me it was over, but the silence seemed to say so. And I wasn't sure whether to respect it or to reach out. Because unlike seemingly every male in the news, I'm hesitant. You don't have to worry about saying no to me, I'm probably never even gonna touch you. I'm gonna wait until you say loud and clear that you want me.

Which makes it difficult to have a girlfriend. I've never quite understood the rules of courtship. I know the male should lead, I know I want to be close, but I'm afraid of imposing myself upon you more than I'm worried about rejection.

But we'd had a stimulating conversation. She'd talked about stuff no girl had ever mentioned before. I asked her on a date, she gave me an excuse which I wasn't sure whether to believe and just when I'd given up hope, she called me.

Then you know they're interested. That's a green light.

She asked me what I was doing that night. I told her I was going to the record store, to return discs, which was a regular behavior for a big consumer like myself back in the seventies. And she started to beg off, telling me it was okay that I was busy, but after convincing her this was not so, I invited her to go to the movies, to the revival house in Beverly Hills, to see a couple of old Cary Grant films.

She drove to my abode, she'd a bad experience with a male a few months before, she didn't want me stopping by.

I wasn't sure she enjoyed the ancient flicks. But when I showed up at school the next day she gave me the biggest hello I'd ever received.

And there ensued Kinks concerts and chocolate crepes and suddenly my life made sense.

But there were always bumps in the road, because she had not come to Los Angeles to get into a relationship, she'd come to study, and our interaction was getting in the way of that.

As for me, I didn't quite throw out my books, but I didn't crack them thereafter.

And then there was this hiatus. Within which I went to the movies and listened to records. I'd purchased the stereo of my dreams only months before. Something with enough power to blow up the building, but enough clarity to have you sitting in front of the speakers wowed. And now that it was March, I was spinning the new Fleetwood Mac album, "Rumours."

I never bought the previous album. Maybe I didn't have to. Jimmy had it on 8-track in Salt Lake.

And I'd seen them play my favorite, "Over My Head," at Anaheim Stadium the summer before.

I was primed. Even though I was not in love with the single on the radio, "Go Your Own Way."

But there was this one track on the second side, "Gold Dust Woman."

Christine was always my favorite, but this Nicks track was less witch and more rock, a groove that penetrated with a soul that resonated.

"Rock on gold dust woman
Take your silver spoon, dig your grave"

This was before regular people did coke, that came a few years later. I was struggling with giving up marijuana, which was now sensimilla and so strong that after I smoked it it weirded me out for 24 hours.

"Heartless challenge
Pick your path and I'll pray"

My path was completely unclear. Part of me wanted to be back banging the bumps in Utah. But it was the worst season ever and suddenly I was in love.

Do you know love? It's when nothing else matters, when you just can't stop thinking of the other person, when skin on skin is more important than anything else.

But she was gone.

But then she knocked on my door. And came inside. And I put on "Gold Dust Woman" and as Stevie sang and Mick banged and John held down the bottom, we embraced, I can still remember the taste of her lipstick. She was back to stay. For a very long time.


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