Phermoans

The Thursday Post

Okay, so I'm not as fluent on here as I would like to be. I have things to do but I can always find ways to circumvent them. I'm listening to a recording of a Grateful Dead concert from Oakland Coliseum on Feb. 23, 1992. I've been hoping I could find this because it was an intense show for me at the time. I was restless, irritable and wholly discontent with my life. I hated Sacramento and wanted to MOVE AWAY, far far away. I had no idea how I would do this. My half sister lived in New Hampshire and my parents lived in Bellingham, WA. There was no way I would go up to be that close to my parents. Puuhleaseee! I think 975 miles is the minimun distance for that relationship to barely survive. NH would be out of the question as I couldn't take my son that far from his mommy. He was 5 at the time. I was 7 years sober and just not willing to deal with my reality. I had fun, don't get me wrong, but it was the 4am in the morning wake up horrors that would get to me. I had to be a strong father for my son, my boy, my little squirrel. But what the fuck do I know about contentment? Spaz at heart, Don Quixote in spirit, stumbler in reality. Oh god how I could have used a drink! That was my heart of heart thinking. I needed a woman! Oh how I needed a relationship to help me stop thinking of this shit. I regress.
So here I am inside the Coliseum listening to this band and actually connecting in a meditative kind of way. I've never been a "dead-head" but I liked their atmosphere at shows. Could only sing the chorus, would never or could never quite hear what they or anyone for that matter, was singing about in their songs...but it was the element for me. I was literally blown out of my head for a delicious couple of hours. They went off on a Terrapin Station and I was tripping. I felt so completely content. I didn't even know where I was. Just flirting with the power of music as release. I didn't know what I was in for. Literally I was ascending. Now, no drugs, alcohol, nothing, just playing with the universe that was presented to me that evening. It's always been the actual music of songs for me, not the lyrics. Just me...so that is what took hold of me that gentle, mental cradling evening. The transcendent blending, building up, then down, stepfully, hynoptically calming all the cells in my brain...all of them...all the doubts, all the insecurities...all the anxieties about futures...the slight peel of the guitar tickling the boundaries of my oneliness...I am part of all of this...there is so much going on audibly but it is so soothing, so soft, so full, exciting parts of my sore mind beyond any standard reality. I can stay here I feel. Can I? It's not real but it sure is tempting. It's not a feeling that I could ever find in drugs or drink. Mickey Hart then brought out these Tibeten Monks to assist in a long drum solo. Very deep, primeval touching there. That rhythm that is so linked in the unconscious memory of our early souls. Inside our cells. We can meet each other there, the self, the real self, the today self. The feeling was pure, it was a moment that was so serene. If there is hope in my world, I thought, I felt it truly that night. That dazzling night under the same stars that I travel with every evening.

posted by Pher @ 1:55 PM