Columbia Records has a thing going on bobdylan.com - submit your story about something Dylan. 1,200 characters. Sounded easy when I first read it as 1,200 WORDS. I went along for quite a while, I got to 1,199 words, cut and pasted it into the web form. What's this? Where is the rest of the text? It's cut off like crazy. I messed around for a while then went back to see the fine print again - well, it's not fine, I just saw what I expected to see. 1,200 characters this time. OK, I can make this work. Time passed, slash/burn, it still made sense, sort of. Cut, paste, it's cut off again, back to the directions, which I read for the first time. Dang it, spaces count?
Rip, tear, plunder, now you had to be there!
Unbelievably - 1,200 characters and spaces - I couldn't have done this if I wasn't jet lagged into tomorrow!
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Soft late summer breeze, full moon, my four kids, a lawn just short of making dew. It’s THAT night - the band is perfect, the voice is right there, not in the mix as much as in front of it, talking to YOU. The greatest “Lay, Lady, Lay” ever.
My daughter refuses to leave; she needs a word with Mr. Dylan. “Emma, I’m sure Bob’s at the hotel wondering “What the heck was the deal with that moon?” “He’s still here and we need to find him, now!” “OK, you can’t do it alone, I’m your man.”
Soon we’re stumbling through backyards trying to get to the buses. Given the proximity to the scene of the crime most of the backyards are in the midst of afterglow parties. Several people greet us, a few laugh, most look at us with, “What?” “What are you looking at? She’s my daughter.” “You guys leave him alone, he’s my dad and he’s helping me find Bob!” We excuse ourselves and struggle through the hedge to the next back yard to repeat the scene; behind us we hear, “That poor guy, he’ll never get her home!”
No Dylan. She gets tired, the moon is still out, the breeze is still perfect, it is still just a nice stroll - and it is still in my head, “Stay, lady, stay, stay while the night is still ahead."
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