This is from the first big rock concert I ever attended. My friends and I talked for weeks about April 10. The set list here is accurate, too. The medley and hurdy gurdy solo are what stand out in my mind. I was in love with the two girls we were with, and amazed at the things one of them consumed—I was having none of that at the time. One of my friends at that show has since died.
It’s amazing that now, 25 years later, this is on YouTube. Sometimes it seems the internet eliminates linear time, and all time is just one giant block, or a tree, to be plucked from. I think physicists see it this way. Buddhist monks, too. Time was presented this way in Slaughterhouse Five, by Kurt Vonnegut. Reading that was the first time I’d ever thought of it that way, and it’s both comforting and disconcerting, depending on mood.
I was just thinking of Kurt Vonnegut over the weekend. I might’ve even had a dream about him, where it was declared by me or someone else that he was the greatest American writer. And now, lo and behold, there’s an interview in The Rumpus with Nanette, his daughter, and we’re coming up on what would’ve been his 90th birthday. This is really a lovely piece and everyone should read it. As an aside, she briefly mentions her time in Northampton with him, and I was working in the hotel there one day when someone said he’d been in to eat at its café. That always made me feel a personal connection with the man, even though I hadn’t actually seen him.