The Purdzilla Show

As I made a list in my head of the stuff in this room that I considered the "c rème, " a lightning bolt entered the room: Bob Dylan, puffing on a cigarette harder than Bette Davis, one knee bobbing in time to a shotgun monologue. He was dressed in a dark red polka-dot shirt and blue striped pants. Electricity seemed to be shooting up through his hair . His dark prescription sunglasses accented his nocturnally pale skin and wiry build. This wasn't the folk traditionalist Dylan; this was the emergence of a new species.

 

  Photo by AJ Garcia on Unsplash

  Photo by Hayes Potter on Unsplash

Photo by Dániel Barczikay on Unsplash Think of the whole universe of matter and how small your share. Think about the expanse of time and how brief - almost momentary - the part marked for you. Think of the workings of fate and how infinitesimal your role. Marcus Aurelius

Every night at the pub or at home when they got loosened up, they would all sing. Loosened up is Scottish for shitfaced, by the way. Jimmy Barnes (re Glaswegian's love of singing, in Working Class Boy )