Dylan & The Dead

This day in Steve History…BD-GD-1987-07-24

Was fortunate enough to catch one of six shows where Bob Dylan and The Grateful Dead played together, and a good time was had by almost all…

27 years ago this day, in the A’s Stadium, got a great location to watch these guys do the rock thang. Unfortunately, I demonstrated my ability to completely misread people and situations, and became convinced that the Dead and Bob Dylan were just hating playing with each other, that they had a ton of mutual antipathy — to the dismay of my compeers. Of course, they were not dissing each other; Bob Dylan said later that these were some of his favorite times playing, and certainly one can see the impetus for the “Never-Ending Tour” in these half-dozen shows back in the late 80s.

Sonnet

In exile poetry class with André Breton,
Conspiring ice picks behind the teacher’s eyes.
Await the lightning strike to ostracize
Or demonize while feeling put upon.
The categorical imperative drones on
And on, releases spans of tentative whys.
So though a lover can only sympathize
Denatured life seems so sickly and wan.
Her thighs like goosedown plains of promise reel
Below the hemline of dream and cheekbone’s fire
While peasants’ flowers braid themselves above
Exploding skies where open secrets feel
The sweaty pulse of Satan’s stolen lyre
And even braindead drones can talk of love.

Re: That Poem

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The Streets of San Francisco


Funny story this…
My friend has magical parking mojo, and found awesome off-lot parking around the corner from Market St. After a fantastic Dylan show at the Warfield, we became separated and I made my own way back to the car — which had been stolen! I waited for a half hour or so, then found a pay phone (ah, life before cell phones was barbaric and cruel) and called his girlfriend, only to learn that he’d been home for thirty minutes and was asleep. Telling her not to wake him, I then called the woman who I was dating at the time, asking if I could crash at her SF house. I then wandered down Market to wait for her, talking to myself to fend off unwanted attentions and generally acting crazy (not too difficult for me). A bit later, the woman who is today my wife picked me up off the street, and spent the night.
All in all, a memorable evening some 19 years ago…