I had never heard Bob Dylan's "Visions of Johanna" before, so I figured if I were going to write about it here, I should lend an ear and decide if it was queer or whether I should steer you readers to draw near without fear, pour yourselves a beer or something more clear, and perhaps offer up a cheer.
And the reason I wrote that opening sentence like that was to give you an example of how Dylan wrote this song. I honestly think he just kept adding phrases, not because they contributed to any kind of overarching, sensible narrative, but because he had thought of another rhyme.
* * * * * * *
I gave the almighty artificial stupidity a chance to visualize some of Dylan's supposed imagery:
Louise holds a handful of rain, tempting you to defy it
Empty lot where the ladies play blindman's bluff with the key chain
The ghost of electricity howls in the bones of her face
Muttering small talk at the wall while I'm in the hall
Jewels and binoculars hang from the head of the mule
And while I'm belittling the man's artistry...you know all those people who do impressions of Dylan speak-singing without carrying a recognizable tune?
Yeah...they're all spot on.
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