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Tangled Up In Bleau


 

by Rich Marotti

December 29, 2001

With apologies to Bob Dylan,
A tribute to Fontainbleau sung to the tune of "Tangled up in Blue"

Early one mornin' the sun was shinin',
I was layin' in bed
Wond'rin' if she'd changed at all
If the lines were what they all said.
Some folks said they were too close together
Some said there just werent enough
They never did like those frog eatin' french
Jerry Lewis just ain't hot stuff.
And I was standin outside LAX
Rain fallin' on my shoes
Heading way beyond the East Coast
Lord knows I've pulled some scams to get through
Tangled up in Bleau.

She was perfect when we first met
Soon to be a wreck
Madman came and chipped the holds, I guess
Everyone wanted to wring his neck.
He ran from Font as fast as he could
Got caught somewhere just west
I arrived that dark sad night
To hear about the awful mess.
And the Frenchman drinking coffee told me
As I was walkin' away
"Look on the bright side boulder-man,
At least he didnt go and chip up Hueco too."
Tangled up in Bleau.

I had a job near those lush green woods
Like Obe in Free the Tanks
But I never did like it all that much
So in broken French I just said "thanks."
And I drifted right to Gay Paris
Where I happened to be employed
Sweeping floors in a coffee shop
On a road named Delacroix.
But all the while I was alone
Those boulders close behind
I've seen a lot of real phat slopers
But these never escaped my mind, and I just grew
Tangled up in Bleau

The rain had put the fog in place
And I walked around feelin queer
I didnt even think I'd get a taste
Of those green boulders so dear.
And later on as the fog cleared out
I's just about to do the same
She was standin there with tied up hair
Sayin' "Could I get a little beta, man?"
I muttered somethin' under my breath,
She drummed her nails on the rock face.
I must admit I felt a little uneasy
When she went to tie the laces of my climbin' shoes,
Tangled up in Bleau.

She fired up her MSR and offered me a pipe
"I thought I'd never pull that crimpy crux," she said
"Thanks for gettin' me all hyped."
Then she opened up a book of lines
And handed it to me
Recorded by an old French climber
From the nineteenth century.
And every one of those moves rang true
And glowed like a burnin' bowl
Pourin' off of every page
Like it was written in my soul to climb on through
Tangled up in Bleau.

I lived with them on a street named LaSalle
In a basement down the stairs,
There were sick moves on the rock all day
Pure climbing in the air.
Then he started talking 'bout ethics
And something inside of him died.
She had to sell all the chalk she owned
And froze up inside.
And when finally my rands blew out
I became withdrawn,
The only thing I knew how to do
Was to go ahead and book a flight on a 7-2-2
Tangled up in Bleau.

So now I'm going back again
I got to get to her somehow.
All the spots I used to know
They're an illusion to me now.
One is the Yosemite circus
Another is a mountain named Pine.
Don't know how it all got started
I dont know what people have done to those lines
But me, I'm still up in the air
Headed for another joint
We always did climb the same
We just saw it from a different point of view
Tangled up in Bleau.



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