Last night I fell asleep with the radio on. I’ve been doing that lately. There’s a radio show called, “Something’s Happening,” with Roy of Hollywood. Roy’s been doing the show since the seventies.
I got in bed and was listening to Jack Cornfield. The last thing I heard Jack say was, be kind to people, for they are involved in an epic battle, or something to that affect. I might have added the word epic, but you get the point.
It made perfect sense to me. Good old Jack Cornfield. He’s a wise one.
I woke up to the grand announcement that it was Bob Dylan’s seventh birthday. I had no idea. I’m glad he made it to seventy, but it struck me as odd for some reason. Him being seventy didn’t sit well with me, but on the other hand I’m glad he didn’t pull an Elvis.
They were playing old radio clips from 1961 when he was twenty. He was just a nice goofy kid then. The host asked him a few questions and than Bob played a song. His playing was effortless, perfect timing, no mistakes, didn’t forget the words, good parenting. Amazing. I’m about as opposite of that as you can get. It takes me years to remember the words to my own songs, and at any given moment I could forget them, and drift off to think about something else. I’m pretty sure I have Attention Deficit Disorder, which makes it doubly hard to get through a song. I have fun writing them, but it sure is a battle to play'em.
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