Douglas Savage

The Quarrelsome Minds of Douglas Savage (New post every Tuesday night)

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Road To The Stars (1957)

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March 4th 1958: The Banshee

March 4th 1958: The Banshee

I don’t know much about the legend of the Banshee. Only what I’ve been told. What a redundant statement; I suppose we only ever know what we’ve been told. If you stay up late into the night and hear a banshee scream it will take you away. It’s the middle of the night and I’m still awake. I can hear the wind howling. There’s a storm coming, that’s what everyone has been saying. The man on the…

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April 5th 1962: Dear Beau

April 5th 1962: Dear Beau

Beau, I hope this letter finds you well. I hope this letter finds you at all. I’m not sure of your address so I’m hoping you still shop in Hollingworth’s. Don’t ask me why now, because I’m not sure myself. You’ve been on my mind lately. We’ve been on my mind. I dreamt of you only a few nights ago. You were at my window and we climbed down the fire escape and caught a train. I’m not sure where it…

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Circa 1969: Journey Softly

Circa 1969: Journey Softly

Journey softly through the clouds, I know that life is hard sometimes. Feel the space between the beats. Remember life is good sometimes. The stars above, now all around me. I left the world, with you, behind me. If I make it to the end or if I find there is no end. I’ll wander further still. Return me back into the ground, know I am somewhere else. I journey softly through my mind. Lay roses…

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November 12th 1961 : The Duke

November 12th 1961 : The Duke

Marilyn approaches as Viktor leaves the building. “And to what do you owe the pleasure of playing cards with the Duke?” Marilyn asks. I look at her, confused. “The Duke?” I reply. “As in, of The Duke Joint fame”, she pauses. “Viktor works in The Duke Joint?” “Sweetie, he doesn’t just work there. He owns it. Among many other things”. She raises her eyebrow doubtfully. “You really didn’t know?” I…

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April 2nd 1962: Come Away With Me

April 2nd 1962: Come Away With Me

I sit alone in our room for yet another night. Viktor is away, I wait for him to come back. There is dust on every surface. The walls are painted white. That is why it feels empty, I tell myself. White is not a colour. It is a lack thereof. An endless emptiness that you could stare at forever and nothing would come of it. An optimist might say ‘it’s a blank canvas, full of potential and…

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1969: Beauty, Stanley and the Hive

1969: Beauty, Stanley and the Hive

1969: Beauty, Stanley and the Hive

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I sit in a park under full silver moon, on a swing set with three swings. My feet barely scuff the ground as I pass it by. I look to my left the swing is empty. I look to my right. I recognise the boy on the swing to my right. I know his face but his name escapes me, it is lost in my crowded mind. He’s warm and soft and smells like home. He is smiling and so am I. I think I love the boy on the swing. We reach the highest high in unison, and pass the earth together. We are the boys on the swings. Forever?

He is smiling but he cries. I watch a tear fall from his left eye, roll down his left cheek to his jaw where it lingers for just a moment too long before dropping to the wrist of his right hand. His swinging slows, we no longer swing together. He reaches our planet first as I see the moon coming closer. I want to slow my motion to match him, I stretch my arm with the notion to catch him. I try to stop but only go faster. I’m in the air, I belong to the ether. It never occurred to me to touch my feet to the ground. What do you think that means? I only swing higher.

He doesn’t smile, not anymore. I want to hold him. “It’ll be okay”, I try to say. My lips part but do not disturb the air around them. He has grown frantic. Queues of tears slide down his cheek taking the leap from his face to the ground, the ground that I do not reach. He stops. His left foot digs into the gravel. His right hand gripping the chain. The boy on the swing that I love so much is hysterical and I can only swing ever higher. I still love him, I think.

First his left leg and then his right. Both legs hold him, no longer swing dependent. While I am still in orbit.

He stands.

He is no longer the boy on the swing. We are no longer the boys on the swings. Therefore, do I still love him?

I let go.

First my right hand and then my left. Both hands free. I am the air, gravity no longer my master. The stars above now all around me. I left the world with you behind me.

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February 14th 1959: The Boys on the Swings

February 14th 1959: The Boys on the Swings

I sit in a park under full silver moon, on a swing set with three swings. My feet barely scuff the ground as I pass it by. I look to my left the swing is empty. I look to my right. I recognise the boy on the swing to my right. I know his face but his name escapes me, it is lost in my crowded mind. He’s warm and soft and smells like home. He is smiling and so am I. I think I love the boy on the…

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28th November 1968: VICIOUS Magazine

28th November 1968: VICIOUS Magazine

It’s been almost four years since the release of his debut record, so I thought it time we catch up with the illusive artist. I arrive at the Brooklyn home of Douglas Savage. I ring the buzzer of the top floor apartment and I am greeted by an acquaintance of the singer. She leads me up four flights of stairs. The stairway is suitably shabby and grungy for the abode of New York’s resident,…

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November 11th 1960: Ace is high

Thirteen bulbs line the mirror, a light dust coats its surface, dimming its shine. Marilyn sits precariously on the flimsy dresser, supported by only two wooden poles. My leg is shaking, it seems to do that a lot and it irritates Marilyn to no end. She places her hand on my knee. I make a conscious effort to keep it still. It’s harder than you think. I told Marilyn about the two men in the…

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November 11th 1961: My Heart Went Boom

I stand on stage, feeling the cold, smooth metal of the microphone stand. The faces of the crowd are blurred by the smoke from dozens of cigars. A single spotlight hangs above me, drenching me with its light. No one is watching me, but I know they are listening, even over the chatter. A man deals cards to the others around him, plastic chips chirp as they hit one another. My hand slips farther…

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August 13th 1965: Company For a Lonely Cave

This is quite possibly the worst place I’ve ever been in my life. Every man in the room is wearing a black bow tie. I am too. It feels more like a noose. Waiters weave in between the tables with ease, carrying large silver trays overflowing with crockery but with very little food. I didn’t know what to order so I pointed to something on the menu. Lucky me, it’s a duck liver. When it arrives, I…

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I don’t believe in love..

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August 27th 1957: Sun City

I was used to spending time with Beau. It didn’t feel strange. In private, at least. It took some time to stop feeling odd being around other people. We went into the city by train. There was smoke. It was one of the last steam trains I ever remembered travelling on. We didn’t plan ahead. We found ourselves at the picture house. Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo. It had been showing for a while, there…

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I don’t believe in love..