...unwashed phenomenom

Well you burst on the scene
Already a legend
The unwashed phenomenon
The original vagabond
You strayed into my arms
And there you stayed
Temporarily lost at sea


Picture from one of G's rock mags for cool middle aged men with endless and obsessive music collections (Mojo 09/06). Lyrics by Joan Baez from Diamonds and Rust (1975).

Tonight as 3 days worth of washing piled up unfolded and pizza boxes littered the table, we watched the second half of No Direction Home on DVD. Or at least, I watched while G and Shaun argued about whether Highway 61 Revisited was genius or ruined by an average band (ie not as good as the Stooges or MC5 or even The Band). Duh. Genius. Idiots. The last bottle of wine was a red spumante that smelled like vomit. They drank it anyway. OK, I had a little too. I'm not being very laundry focussed here am I?

Anyway, one of the boys told me that Bob Dylan had a brown jacket that was so filthy and that stunk so bad that Joan Baez had to burn it.  Such a womanly thing to do. Eventhough she was a bigger star than him at the beginning of their relationship. I dig that he is ironing her hair, fag in his mouth, the same way my mum used to hang washing on the line, in her dressing gown, fag in mouth.

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