Tuesday, August 29, 2017

Bob Dylan finally says what it means

They served strong drinks at the cocktail bar Bob and I talked our way into at 15 minutes before they opened (It wasn't hard and involved people telling Bob Dylan that he's Bob Dylan, which he's already strikingly clear on). Perhaps we miscalculated in ordering a third variety each of their interesting cocktails. They made an infusion with pine tips and morel mushrooms that was confusing and dazzling. But we were way past that stuff and we were laughing too much at god knows what. 

But I remember the tingle in my spine when an increasingly loquacious Bob leaned in and said: 

"This is it. I'm going to tell you alone the secret truth all hidden in my lyrics." 

Then we both laughed as he waggled one hand like Marlon Brando. He does an amusing Godfather. You had to be there.

Then he said: 

"Here is the answer in all my songs and the thing I have been pressed for but not given." He laughed, but collected himself. "This is what I was trying to tell everyone..."

"Oh my god!" I exclaimed giggling. "I knew it!"

"The truth, the truth I have been trying to say, the secret truth..." He said before laughing. "The truth..."  And then he laughed so much it was infectious, and we burst into a hysterics it was hard to emerge from. My ribs ached. We did not actually fall off our seats from laughing but we did knock some strange table decoration flower onto the floor. It did not break, it bounced. Even this, stupidly, was hilarious. I still feel sore from it. Multiple times we both tried to talk, but could not for laughing. And, helpless, silent only to save our lives, and only after many minutes of recurring fits of laughter and some amusing hiccups were we finally able to calm down and dry our eyes. 

We paid. He got into his airport limo. And I walked home.

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