may 31st (301)

ah the sweet taste of pacelessness of the world.

the last week was one long day. it felt like i never sat down to gather my head for even a split second, i ran and i ran on half-dead batteries and scattered thoughts, hence the catastrophe of the finals. but none of that matters a whole lot, all those little bits and pieces of things that won't add up to anything on your death bed, you'll never think of them once in your life, not once you'll say to yourself "how less happier i should have been and study and strive for preset goals of boredom!"

i waited to post on here for a few resons--first off, i didn't really have anytime to do so, i didn't even have time to breathe let alone speak. second it was kinda poetic with the 301st post to overlap with me talking about a certain night, so i didn't wanna blow that either. this is the first morning in which i brewed myself a beautiful, golden cup of coffee; put on a good record and actually had a moment to think.

first thing to say about the night of the muse--my lovely circle of friends. they each sorta genuinely worried about my obsession, but never the less went along with it, each understood the importance of the moment, and contributed to my joy in their own way (my fave being one of them joking about my intentions to woo bob after seeing me in a long dress). so thanks, fellas and ladies, for sticking it out with me--asking me afterwards how it was and all. and my childhood friend whom i have managed to bond in an entirely new way through bob and that's saying a lot in a geez-9 years?--of friendship. we were both 12 years old again in some odd way. we giggled, commented, joked about bob and his doings on our way up to the square, we talked about words and songs, about loves lost and highschool crushes and all.

oh even to think about it gets me all worked up again. the night was possibly the hottest one of all month--i'm not kidding--the sickening humidity that makes you all moist and warm, the sweat that never leaves your body and all. the dark heat type of weather. the kind that would set the stage to a murder. anyhow, the stage was all right, this ancient theater type place, ooutdoorsy and all. we first had dinner with a third friend (who in all his confusedly magnificent state of intellectuality still has one of the most genuinely simple hearts in the world) then we all walked down to the place, with hundreds of people waiting outside--many foreign people too--and the blackmarket ticket people and random people just begging for a ticket and all--all the great things that make a show a crazy show

then we all took our seats and the muse came up to the stage--did not say a word--but blasted into Rainy Day Women and my facial muscles lost their abilities and the widest stupidest smile just spread all over my face--i swear never felt anything like this---this feeling of happiness that has nothing to do with the real world hence had no danger whatsoever of ever falling apart--it was so childish so innocent and so joyful--almost like the times before the damn apple supposedly destroyed us all

then came lay lady lay and bob walked up to the center. i wasn't really into the songs yet i was a little too lost in the excitement of things, but i remember thinking to myself "damn that song has effin good lyrics". then came i'll be your baby tonight and stuck inside a mobile with the memphis blues again and right then something heavenly happened and bob pulled out the harmonica--oh man you should have had my heart then to undestand the feelings of that little crappy instrument can cause in a human being--could be to this day the greatest thing i heard beside my family's voices--he did a few solos with it and it just elevated the entire night.

just when i was thinking how adorable he was now that he was old and all, and how simple all these was, in a good way, maybe even thinking of saying goodbye to my obsession over these songs, then out of nowhere he starts singing just like a woman-- the GREATEST version i ever heard in my life to the greatest words i ever knew-- the whole things shifted, along with it so did my universe, the magical harmoica rang through the heat again and good old bob stoof by the mic opening his arms to the audience so they would sing along--amazing what a little man can do to hundreds of people--and his cuteness was too much for me to handle, his awkwardness, his way of confusion and expecting--anyways when that song ended i swear everything had changed.

honest with me was next, it's a hell of a tune--very strong and hard and uprising in a way-- then to everyone's amazement came a hard rain--the whole crowd went bananas on that one--and a few more songs came and pass--and then he played the masters of war which just fueled anyone with the events that had happened earlier that way--then more songs and the curtains fell

people of course were insistent, so bobby came out again. did his usual encore with like a rolling stone and a killer--and by that i mean killer--version of all along the watchtower then people kept clapping and he and his team walked up to the stage and he did this things with his hands--strethcing them out to the crowd and then patting his chest as if to accept gratititude--he did it a bunch of times and all i wanted to just ran down the steps and give the man a hug--

"he did get emotional didn't he?" my beloved friend said afterwards "i'd like to think he was--with all that (she repeated his move with the hands)"

"i guess so" i said, not sure, still smiling

so the morals of this story. i had one of the best nights of my life. why i can't really tell. i talked to another bob fan last morning who was dissapointed that bobby won't talk (he did say thank you at the end that and his introduction of the rest of the band members were the only words he said) and the way he switches the song "just when everyone sang along to just like a woman it just changed the air" she said.

i can see her point

but god who cares. this fake sense of familiarity about the man beats all that--i knew he won't say much--i doubt he ever says much--but man the way he walks as if his feet never touches to ground--the way he bends his knees when he's overwhelmed with the tune of his harmonica--the way he dances with one leg a little spread apart--the way he stretches out his free hand when he's playing the org to make a point--the way he quickly slips in between all other members--and the way he manages to somehow keep his air of loneliness even on the stage thus preserving the reality of things--you don't expect things from him--he is just one little fella that won't sing or cater to your amusemet--but the feelings you have for him should do that for you--

next morning i walked on the empty streets and smiled to myself--i had now started some new form of things--i knew what i was meant to be and that i was meant to be xactly that--all the self doubt and confusion had dissapeared--to see that people fall through the cracks only in which they can fit gives one hope and courage--god knows bob can't be anyone but bob and i sure as hell can't be anyone but what i'm meant to be

man this is one long post. if you did manage to read to its entirety, well, congrats-

oh and before i wrap up, he was taller than i expected.

ah that sound of the harmonica. what one would give for that feeling.

ps: this is way too long for me to check for typos and all. just ignore them.