It does take me back, and I cannot apologize for what is real…

Let me say, I am one of the first people to tell you I find emotional, nostalgic blogs (or any of that type of writing to be fair…) completely tedious, perhaps even gratuitous… So, you will have to forgive me certain indulgences as of late, which I will elaborate on more fully some other time…

There is just something I have to get off my chest… something I cannot stop thinking about… and yes, I have had a few drinks this evening… As Phil says, “I started out on Heineken, but I soon hit the harder stuff…” (Of course he also says, “I am going back to San Anselmo… I do believe I’ve had enough…” so you know he (and I ) are keeping it mostly together, because San Anselmo is the shit.) But I digress…

I was walking home this evening, in the bitter cold, [it is like 15°C… or 59°F, which now sounds not so bad… but here it is cold] listening to some very particular music… and I stopped at one point and closed my eyes and just listened. And I was positively transported.

There is an entire collection of music that I can listen to today and simply by closing my eyes and stopping for the briefest of moments I am taken back, seriously, I feel like I am somewhere else, totally in the moment…

Is this me, or is it the Kilkenny talking when I say that the chords… seriously, just the first three chords of Terrapin Station put me on stage left at Shoreline Amphitheater… When I hear Estimated Prophet I have to consciously hold my arms down… I Know You Rider makes me skip and spin (in private these days) and Standing on the Moon can, well, it can move me in ways I thought impossible. And there are more… soooo many more. Every song. A place. A smile. A memory. A crystalline minute in time.

I am going to have to take a Grateful Dead hiatus pretty soon because it s really proving disastrously retroactive, but god… to feel the way we would feel at those shows… I wish I was a talented enough writer to articulate the joy, the sheer pleasure of being at a show, with my friends who at that time were my family. For now I will have to rust that everybody has something like this in the recesses of their minds that they can draw upon and so you all know what I mean…

Right now I find myself inexplicably drawn to the people I shared that time with… and not for malevolent reasons. I am not looking to insert myself into their current lives or upset the balance of life in the ‘now,’ but just to remember, out loud, what we had for those brief shining moments. To make it real. To know it was real. I don’t want to change a thing. But man, I want to hold on for just a little bit more… We all need a miracle sometimes.

Because it was amazing and wonderful and magical and fabulous.

Here I am today.

Fucking Grateful.

Standing on the moon
I got no cobweb on my shoe
Standing on the moon
I’m feeling so alone and blue
I see the gulf of Mexico
As tiny as a tear
The coast of California
Must be somewhere over here – over here

Standing on the moon
I see the battle rage below
Standing on the moon
I see the soldiers come and go
There’s a metal flag beside me
Someone planted long ago
Old Glory standing stiffly
Crimson, white and indigo – indigo

I see all of Southeast Asia
I can see El Salvador
I hear the cries of children
And the other songs of war
It’s like a mighty melody
That rings down from the sky
Standing here upon the moon
I watch it all roll by – all roll by

Standing on the moon
With nothing else to do
A lovely view of heaven
But I’d rather be with you

Standing on the moon
I see a shadow on the sun
Standing on the moon
The stars go fading one by one
I hear a cry of victory
And another of defeat
A scrap of age old lullaby
Down some forgotten street

Standing on the moon
Where talk is cheap and vision true
Standing on the moon
But I would rather be with you
Somewhere in San Francisco
On a back porch in July
Just looking up to heaven
At this crescent in the sky

Standing on the moon
With nothing left to do
A lovely view of heaven
But I’d rather be with you – be with you

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About Amanda

I am repatriating expatriate trying to work it all out. Well, to work some of it out anyhow. I am writing here for sanity, focus and general over-sharing.
This entry was posted in Friends, Music, Perception and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to It does take me back, and I cannot apologize for what is real…

  1. Ruth says:

    You’ve heard me say it before: 27 shows from late ’86 to ’90 (far fewer than my fellow tribe-mates). Where are they now — Skippy? CindySantaBarbara? Yulep? President Bill? Sierra? Raz? The old nicknames aren’t even googlable. Those connections are completely lost.

    All I have is the music and people with similar memories. Thanks for bringing me back. Does anyone ever call you Mandy?

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