It was Dylan’s 75th birthday last week. ‘When the Southwind blows’ just dedicated a full hour of songs and poetry to the great singer, songwriter, poet, and person. Each of the songs reminded me, as it does most people of my age I suppose, of a place, of an age, of company – all long gone.
It’s a lost battle we’re fighting, I thought. We’re all going down the tube, we’re all going to die. It’s just a matter of time. The places, our youth, the company of our friends, all that disappears. What matters, I suppose, is how we deal with this inevitability, how we make our way down that road – or is it a river? (Think ‘dreamboat’:)
I’m in a bad mood. Maybe it’s just a consequence of still being too tired to be able to see beyond the horizon. But I’m thinking that time is of the essence. It’s the one thing that if I waste it, it has to be for a good reason. Instead, I’m wasting so much time on what seems to be irrelevant stuff. Not just now. Even more and even worse for the most time of my life. But it’s never too late to change, to get onto the Dreamboat (out of the rat race) and to follow the Southwind.
The first birthday presents have arrived for Pádraig’s big day tomorrow. A really colourful, nice big plant. A few special bottles of craft beer and a really brilliant CD.