I made some sugar cubes at the hotel before heading over to the venue. Probably enough for 5 or 6 folks. Either it was too much liquid on the cubes, too much humidity in Florida or stashing the bag to get through security but all I’m left with is a bag of intensely concentrated and highly electrical granulated sugar. When I tilted the bag back to get a little into my open mouth, tapping the bag with my fingers, nothing was coming out. Then, all of a sudden, like ice breaking from a drink, the entire contents of the bag are emptied into my mouth. Oh fuck. My mouth fills with the taste of electricity. This might get a little stranger than usual.

Seems like everybody in this place met Garcia at Disney World today. I’ve heard countless people talking about it. As I’m talking to some folks by the concession stand the sounds of their voices begin to sound like everyone is talking into a soup can with a string that is attached directly to my brain. I better get to my seat. Where the hell is my crew? When did I separate from everybody? Did I come in with them to begin with? When did I get lost? Am I Lost? Or are they? Where was I going? Is it intermission? Oh yeah, my seats.

I might be in a little bit of trouble tonight. I just saw the air bending. Super cute blonde in pigtails next to me. That’s great, I tried to say something to her and what came out of my mouth sounded like a deaf person trying to sing the national anthem. Not as great, I guess talking is outta the question for a while.

I’m really holding on to this chair. I gotta admit, I’m a little scared. I feel afraid but I don’t know why I do. Far out, I just had a premonition. Rubin and Cherise. I’m intensely connected to something far beyond myself. I need music man. Please, lights go out! Lights go out, please lights go out, please lights go out. Lights finally go out!

I wonder if I had something to do with that?

Holy Shit things are getting strange in here. Stage lights seem to be putting a layer of indescribable and colorful gel across my eyes. Not too much time spent tuning. I love Jack Straw. Sounds like there’s a fish bowl over the band. Is it my ears?

Hornsby is really loud. Can somebody turn him down a little? He just got here. I love him and he’s fine, aside from that haircut. He’s got no business being that loud.

This place is brand spanking new. What a beautiful venue. I ate a ton of acid. Hope I’m gonna make it.  FOCUS DEAN!!!! THE MUSIC!!! FOCUS!!!!

Weir rushes the mic with authority, head back and chest proud “Ain’t no bed can give us rest now, you keep us on the ruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnnnn!!!!!”

My viewpoint seems to come into focus, as if from a mile away and instantaneously, the band and the lights combine into a tremendous swell that rushes towards the stage and comes crashing together. It’s punctuated by Phil dropping a bomb that seems to instantly cause every mic of LSD to rush to my brain at once and explode into a full blown, full body high … HOLY SHIT!!!!!!!!!!! That just fuckin happened!!!!

I try to say something to the girl next to me but when I attempt to speak the only thing that comes out is “Garcia taco thunder then had to meyer carrot.”

What the hell caused that? My mind and physiology gets sucked back to the stage by an unseen force as Garcia starts shredding through the lead in Jack Straw. As he rips through his runs, it’s as if he throws a note in the air and the rest of the band repetitively goes after it with everything they’ve got. Bill’s head turned all the way to the right as he thunders across his kit chewing the hell out of something. Mickey is coming over the top and lookin’ out over everybody with that face on. Yeah, that one. Weir is rushing to the front of stage and showering the place with all kinds of chords. Throwing ’em everywhere. It’s as if every note is knocking out a piece a glass from the fishbowl that was covering the band. With every intense blast of music another hole gets blown out of the bowl as the sound makes its way out of this shell that was covering the band.

In much the same way, my soul is emerging through it’s shell like a psychedelic bird pecking its way out of an egg. As the sound begins to break free with brand new and incredible clarity and power I notice that my body has started dancing frantically and without any effort on my part. My legs are total gummy worms. Phil is playing a lot of notes and they all seem so . . . relevant.

Forward. Prominent. They seem to come from deep within the music and are projected out with an otherworldly force as he stands fairly still, looking like a high school science teacher. The gravitational pull of Garcia always causes Phil to lean in Jerry’s direction just as a plant grows towards the sun. As the room swells into a monumental peak for an opening tune, the band draws all the energy back into themselves as it closes down into a few notes and final statement.

“We can share the women we can share the wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine!”

With zero hesitation or time to spend guessing what’s next the opening notes of Sugaree come across my shaky and somewhat startled soul bringing a feeling of profound internal comfort.  This night is gonna get way out there but there’s an inner knowing that as twisted as all my facilities are increasingly becoming, somehow I’ll make it through.

I’m currently writing a book detailing my experiences in my life’s most wonderful and musical chemistry experiment. Stay tuned.

Gratefully Yours,
Dean Sottile (pronounced So Tilly)

Facebook: Grateful Dean
Facebook Group: The Official Home of Unofficial Grateful Dead News

Intermission has been awesome. I don’t know if it’s all the ecstasy but I never saw so many beautiful people in my life. It’s like a damn hippie beauty pageant in this place tonight.  Everywhere I went I saw exactly who I was hoping to see moments before I ever saw them. The mood in this place is so electric, no drama, nobody freaking out. Everybody in this place seems just right. I’m not sure my chemistry has ever been so ideal in all of my life; I feel like an absolute ray of light.

I’ve helped three people get out of the problems in their own head just by smiling at them.  There’s some magic all over this place. I missed the guys climbing up the ladders. I hate when that happens. There’s a patchwork of smiles, beachballs bouncing around leaving crazy trails. I don’t know who that dude we’ve been selling buds to is, but he’s definitely well connected. We haven’t been further back than 10th row the whole tour. The anticipation in this building could be weighed with a scale. Air has a very definite heaviness in this place right now. Your mind screams, “TURN THE LIGHTS OUT!” It’s as if Candace hears you scream in your mind. The lights go out as the instant roar of the crowd is immediately followed by the sight of flashlights leading the band to the stage.

They emerge from behind their stacks of sound equipment laughing as if there’s a joke between them. The energy shared in this place is all over them as well. It’s clearly not just me. When the noodling and tuning starts it becomes immediately clear . . . it’s gonna be Scarlet->Fire! This takes the intensity to an entirely different level of high!

Every member smiling. Bill and Mickey warming their chops on the hi-hats. When the affirmative notes of Scarlet Begonias are struck by Garcia, he smiles down the line of people in the front row causing every person within his vision and even those beyond it to believe they just had an intimate soul experience with him. As the riffs roll out and the rest of the band gets behind the movement Garcia seems to be caught up in the vibe and seems a little slow getting to the mic. I think to myself “he’s definitely missing the cue.” Somehow, in perfect Garcia time, he gets there some way and the raging party officially takes flight as Jerry’s eyebrows, slightly elevated, rejoices with his voice through half of a smile, “As I was walkin’ ’round Grosvenor Square.” Holy Shit this is tight!

The band sounds like a well oiled machine as every component falls into it’s perfect and proper place. The notes that come off of Garcia’s and Weir’s guitars spin my my mind. Any wayward thoughts fly away. All negativity is sent packing. I found such a funky dancing groove in the pocket that I feel like the 7th member of the band. I’m like a human metronome and I swear the band is actually using ME to keep time. I couldn’t stop smiling if I tried . . .

There’s something so cyclical about Scarlet. I feel like we’re all on this psychedelic merry-go-round. It’s Impossible for anybody to sit still at this point. Every verse speaks deeply into the experience. The band hits their marks in perfect unison. They absolutely drive the whirling dervish of tie dyed sweat that most of us are quickly turning into. My body is seemingly taken over by the absolute clarity and volume of the massive trampoline of sound that’s springing all of us higher and higher. I catch the eyes of everyone around me, we’re all being blown away by what’s taking place. As the merry-go-round spins, Garcia fires off notes that feel like ornate sparks being thrown from his strings to elaborately decorate and detail this creation. As we approach the final verse Bill and Phil hold down the foundation of the groove while Mickey climbs the percussive ladder of life running his sticks up every tom tom he’s got. You know that sound!

Garcia’s licks seem to intentionally linger behind just enough for him to accelerate as quickly as possible as he begins to make his final move; It’s as though he’s gotta catch up to the proceedings at hand without leaving any note out from the run as he makes the musical sprint to the finish line. Scales being peeled off rapidly, his face assumes the determined and intense look illustrating the effort that goes into this stretch to the finish line crossing it with the rest of the band, as well as all of us, as we collectively declare, “THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS PLAYING TEA FOR TWO! THE SKY WAS YELLOW AND THE SUN WAS BLUE!”

Every cell in my body climaxes with the moment as I’m fully awakened to the realization that EVERYBODY truly and completely is playin’ in the Heart of Gold band. It’s all of us, everybody, like ’em or not. Every one of us is a necessary and required ingredient to all of this wild shit that’s happening. In my current state of mind I think I’ve discovered something that’s just as new as when I discovered it during this same tune just last week. The jam heads for exploratory ground, noises from instruments that aren’t even present can be heard in the thick layers of sound that are coming at us from the band like lava flows from a volcano. It’s no coincidence that particular vision emerges in my thoughts and overtakes my senses. And just as lava flows from its source, surely there’s some Fire coming our way . . .