Sunday, March 28, 2004

Rock Mythology

The boyfriend and I went back to bed late morning for some much needed canoodling. (His schedule has been crazy the last couple of weeks.) We had the laptop on the bed between us and as we were surfing, I reached over and flipped on the radio. It came on in the middle of a song that coincidentally was a cut from a good friend's new CD. (Boyfriend was in his band for seven years.) A short while later, boyfriend said about a different song, "That's really tacky. Who IS that?" I laughed and said, "Bob Dylan. You don't know Dylan's voice?" It's moments like that when I feel our 8-year age difference. Later in the song, Dylan launched into a harmonica solo and the boyfriend made a horrible grimace, shook his head from side to side and said, "Oh my gawd! Imagine being on stage and hearing THAT coming out of the monitors!" So much for workshipping at the altar of one of the rock gods. I've never been a Dylan fan, so it's nice to know that I'm not the ony one who doesn't get the adoration and reverence thrown in his direction. But then I've always thought the same thing about the Dead, too.


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