We find something here
that is only here.
We travel roads that are green
with rain.
Faith is loyal,
running through green
and hits you
like voices tumbling across a lake.


Stakes with moss and old butterflies
keep the woolly fields
from our enemy.
The sounds that can be heard only here
are heard.
Bells ring through the morning fog
and dew trembles again
on the green.


Steel strings hum a zig-zagging
stumble, stumble between brick
and speckled chemical layers of a century.
They are reminded of the strength of youth,
of train noise,
of the origin of tales.
In the middle the green finds the beam
through cracks of life.


We find faces on a plane
of color
in ironic nights of black and white.
The green, the damp, the quiet, the light
are clear
in the ways they were before
in other places.
And senses rest.

Mr. Tambourine Man caught my ear in some place at some time, neither of which I remember. Bob Dylan's songs have a way of doing that—replacing. He is something of an icon, and his songs deserve such attention. The songs and words of people like this man hold on to dignity that is tossed by so many others. I think that's why I always liked Bob Dylan. He made me think. He made me think about places and people in ways that I should. Sure, I love the occasional heavy metal ballad or a light-hearted beat from the 1980s. But songs such as Desolation Row, Forever Young, Masters of War, Shelter From the Storm, and so many others spike my brain and stir emotions. I don't mean to go overboard on the topic of Bob Dylan, but in terms of everything relative, his tunes deserve some recognition.

Back in October or November I saw that Bob would be around here in the spring and I was hoping that I could somehow manage to go. About a month ago I decided to grab this chance and see he and Willie Nelson as they made their rounds again this year with their ballpark tour. I've never been a very big fan of Willie Nelson's music, but I've always enjoyed his popular songs. This would be an opportunity to see a couple of music legends before it's too late (they're 64 and 72 as of now). So, on Sunday June 12 Lindsey and I were going to see Bob Dylan and Willie Nelson.

We arrived in Zebulon at around 4:15—a little over two hours before The Greencards were to begin the show. I like bluegrass, so I was looking forward to seeing them even though I'd not heard their music before. They played about seven songs and were on for 35 minutes. They were great; the crowd really got into them. I especially enjoyed this song, which sounded so much better in a live performance than the studio recording. Lindsey was really impressed with the violin player (she plays), as was I. I was happy to have a more-than-decent opening act.

After a lengthy delay, Willie Nelson finally made his way on stage. By this time, many of my fellow field dwellers were beginning to buzz (there was plenty of alcohol), and they went nuts when Willie walked out waving and pointing. He was very energetic, not like the average 72-year-old. He played several of his classic songs including On the Road Again, You Were Always on my Mind, and Mamas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Cowboys. At the end of his set he also sang Will The Circle Be Unbroken and I'll Fly Away, two old gospel songs. When I was a child I loved the Charley Pride rendition of I'll Fly Away, so that was a treat. Two of Willie's sons join him on this tour, one singing and playing the guitar with a good bit of talent.

After about 90 minutes, Willie and his group left the stage to a roar, and then things shifted. The high percentage of older folks dwindled. Soon I saw many more young faces joining us on the field. It was much more crowded for Bob's performance. After about 20 minutes his band took to their instruments, with Mr. Dylan making his way out last. His greeting was as would be expected. He began with Drifter's Escape and it escalated from there. Here's how the night went:

1. Drifter's Escape
2. Love Minus Zero/No Limit
3. God Knows
4. The Times They Are A-Changin'
5. Highway 61 Revisited
6. Tryin' To Get To Heaven
7. Tweedle Dee & Tweedle Dum
8. Blind Willie McTell
9. Stuck Inside of Mobile With The Memphis Blues Again
10. New Morning
11. Summer Days
    encore
12. Don't Think Twice, It's All Right
13. All Along The Watchtower

I only wish I could've seen him play guitar. I don't really feel anything was missing, though. It was great to see him singing and swaying, ripping on that harmonica like he does. If you know his music, but have never seen him live, there are big differences. Each song is a towering, jazzing monolith. I was 30 feet from the stage and the sound was great.

Despite the drunkards stumbling around and falling over their own cans, the entire experience was great. Lindsey was even offered a joint. Does that mean people think we're cool?

Lindsey and I saw Crash earlier today at Eastgate. I enjoyed Crash but found it very improbable and pitifully false—pitiful in that the characters were far from reality in their actions and racial epiphanies. If we're discussing an issue as "real" as racism, then let's treat it in terms of reality. Some scenes were bloated beyond repair, too full of ego. Don't patronize or talk down to your audience, especially, again, when treating something so important, delicate, and complicated. I think the point about race is a good one to tackle, but entirely overdone in the film. I’ve always been one for the power of subtlety, which I think would have made this a much better, more levelheaded movie.

A metaphor doesn't have to be explained, and shouldn't need to be; it lives its purpose alone. Don't present to me a metaphor and then proceed to define it with overflowing examples. I think we've lost a certain touch in movies. The public receives things in preassembled allusions and whitewashed similes. Why give an implicit gift when you can explicitly hammer something home? Please, someone out there create a trend of film with self-interpretive substance. Lost in Translation didn't have the characters spoiling their thoughts for us in an attempt to make our feeble minds understand that two people have formed a unique bond. And even some movies, such as American Beauty, can elaborate their meanings for the viewer in ways that avoid waste.

Anyway.

I’m usually too hard on movies (only because I love them), so let me retract my thumping judgments for a moment and reiterate that I did enjoy Crash in the theater; race is a great issue that should be hit hard by every media. I just think it could’ve been done so much better than what we see here. Clip its wings a bit, tone down the overstatement, and switch some of the actors and you've got a superb film. It's still a good one, though.