my mom called me yesterday because she said she was worried.
“busblog seems a little sad lately, whats up?”
i told her about some secret (and some bittersweet) developments and being the best mom ever she was all, “well im sure everything will work out”.
my mom deserves better than an undercover xbi agent for a son.
she deserves a mild mannered doctor or a blazer wearing english professor.
the things she hears me say on the phone, its probably not good for her heart.
how could such a southern belle have spawned someone who has no filter? i tell her everything.
i do it out of a weird sense of respect. like, id want to know what my kids are up to.
tonight after work i think im gonna go see Bob Dylan play behind the Orange Curtain.
i dont have a date cuz the show starts at 8pm sharp and the OC is a bit of a trek.
its hard enough to take a young lady to fine dining in Santa Monica for an 8pm dinner reservation
but a concert in Costa Mesa? unless she lives in the 714, its near impossible.
thus going stag seems to be the best choice.
i listen to bob dylan almost every day: most recently ive been listening to
Tight Connection to My Heart, Jokerman, Emotionally Yours, and Shot of Love a lot.
as in a lot a lot.
the dude is clearly one of a kind and hes so old i feel like it may not be prudent to miss him.
and yes i know he plays Vegas tomorrow,
but deep down im not as wild as i once was.
update: im being told that Dylan will be here NEXT week, not this week, whoops!