the post office has been stolen.

last night while listening to blonde on blonde, i decided i wasn't going to do anything today. i really wanted to listen to bob all day, the entire box set, close the door, and be completely irresponsible. i was supposed to meet this guy on craigslist about an acoustic guitar; i was supposed to meet the principal of will c. wood middle school for a job interview; and i was supposed to go to work tonight. but, i said, fuck it. that's what bob would've done. my impression of young dylan is that he really didn't feel obligated to anyone or anything. everyone tried to make him the mouthpiece for the liberal left, or else mold him into some folk superstar. but he wasn't having any of it. he would write whatever he wanted, sing whatever and whenever he wanted, and he wouldn't answer any stupid questions like, "what are your songs about?" "why do you sing?" "can i see your left fingertips?" i find his refusal to accept, and overall confusion about societal norms and expectations to be both amusing and inspiring. i finally see why so many people listen to his music all the time.

and don't worry - i called all three to let them know i wasn't going to be able make it today. but i haven't made it through the whole box set yet.

on the other hand, there's time enough at last.

No comments: