Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Once in a While You Get Shown the Light in the Strangest of Places If You Look at It Right

Jerry Garcia was born seventy years ago today. Yes, the above is a cover, but I listened to all of Europe 72 yesterday and I hadn't heard this in a decade. I see people writing - I've been writing - about the pathology of nostalgia as signature key of the clusterfuck, and a run of High Holy Days provokes from me the pangs I program it to, I'm a fucking romantic, I'm predisposed to the disease in good times. Anyway, I loved The Dead unto a lifestyle, fell away when I needed leave that lifestyle to save my life, cold-turkeyed to the point of self-disdain: Hey, what did the two Deadheads say to each other when the dope ran out? Hey Man, this music sucks. No, it doesn't.


  1. I didn't start out to be a Deadhead, it was something I absorbed in collage (along with the Clash and the Ramones).

  2. Egads, The Motherfucking Dead, and The Motherfucking Clash.

    I wish I had freedom from self-indulgence but I love having the freedom to be self-indulgent too much.