bob dylan

saw bob dylan at the bowl in santa barbara. he did not play Buckets Of Rain or To Ramona (my favorite songs in the world) but he was there and he was in a white hat and an army suit of sorts. Saw his motorcycle leaning on a rail by the entrance. he zips in and wheels out. drives by night to a next stop, or home. his equipment lands on some flatbed and he lands in the wind, whirring down highways and bending up oceansides. he did not really look at the audience much. he did not extend his words much. but he was there. right there. the guy i have always wanted to see. the poet i have been idolizing my whole life.

i am glad i had never seen him before. glad i saw him now. glad i have never thought of meeting him. never have wanted to meet him. just want to observe and absorb his work, like paintings in a museum...or better yet, discs in a player.

slept in santa barbara. inspired. woke at 6 am and promptly hit the 101 heading back to l.a.

it rained. buckets of rain...on the drive back. the ocean held fog. i held hope. bob dylan. hope. change the world. you can. i can. i am.