A few months back I was extremely jealous of a friend who had gone to London to intern, and during the course of her stay, managed to sneak herself into an Eric Clapton concert at Hyde Park. She was gracious enough to mail me about her experience. This had me trapped within extreme feelings of throttling her neck out of jealousy OR making love to her out of admiration. Neither is unflinchingly acceptable in sober human society and thus I refrained from expressing my true feelings; as usual.
Today a friend writes on his blog about meeting 'a man in a white suit' who had told us as far back as 1963 that the answer was blowing in the wind.
Fuck man!
Now I know people who've seen 2 of my biggest heroes. AND I haven't met either.
Now I know people who've seen 2 of my biggest heroes. AND I haven't met either.
I've wriiten about Clapton on this space. Maybe someday I'll be able to write about Robert Zimmermann and his most famous incarnate that my bastard friend went to see - Cheers to you man, though I'll attempt to murder you with frantic queries about the performance the next time we meet.
Next major goal in life :
Find enough resources to drag my arse to London & New York to catch Eric Clapton and Bob Dylan live. Before either dies. I probably have 2, at the most 3 years to accomplish such a feat. Wish me luck.
Find enough resources to drag my arse to London & New York to catch Eric Clapton and Bob Dylan live. Before either dies. I probably have 2, at the most 3 years to accomplish such a feat. Wish me luck.
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