Space has been a little creepy… Weird energy all over the arena… Seems like everywhere I go people are in some kind of rush to get somewhere… I don’t know why… We’re all staying right here… Almost like watching people on the streets on Manhattan… Not too many faces seem at ease… Is it me??? I don’t think so… Could be… Garcia’s notes are rolling out of Space like we’re about to get some music again… The Energy in the room is shifting… It’s cool to feel 14,000 people become attentive all at once… What’s it gonna be??? Black Peter??? Stella??? Strange to hear notes that sound like a Garcia Ballad out of Space… The fat strings of Jerry’s guitar begin to form the frame of an incredibly powerful, albeit somewhat eerie march… The drummers fall into place following his lead… The room begins to glow in it’s darkness… Jerry, Bob and Phil are framed in Blue Light… The tempo matches the pace of the steps you might take walking through a graveyard as Garcia approaches his mic from 4 steps back… Death Don’t Have No Mercy… That’s what the fuck I’m talking about!!! The mood created is Pure Magic mixed with Pure Emotion… It’s like a high speed collision where Magic collides with Sorrow… We’re all experiencing this from the Inside Out… Garcia’s line is delivered from deep within his core while the 3 deep creases are fully activated on his forehead… Weir’s line comes through absolutely clear and without any hesitation or doubt… His eyes shadowed like a Skull even when he faces the lights… I don’t how that shit happens… He leans back hard and sharp as if he’s squeezing everything he can out of the moment… 14,000 people are simultaneously having their insides rearranged at will by it all… The first solos begin to take flight… Brent’s Church Organ seems to form some kind of audible hands that appear to lift the music higher and higher… It becomes a completely visceral experience as Garcia’s solo ferociously climbs up and down a stairway of sonic emotion that seems to be made out of the chills that are formed within my spine… Each note penetrates far deeper than our ears as we can literally feel the guitar pick make contact with our hearts… Jerry bends his knees 4 inches… That brings the whole experience way over the top… This Ballad of Death and it’s failure to show Mercy has created a vivid mood, emotion and experience within all of us as it’s completely directed the thoughts of thousands of people in a single direction and all at once… Brent takes his turn completely possessed by the spirit of the song… He Jolts… Shoulders swinging… Looks like The Song is Playing Him… His voice cuts through all of us like a chainsaw through the sternum as he begins open heart surgery on the entire room all at once… We Feel every word… As Brent hammers into his keyboard it appears as if the keyboard hammers back… It sends him into a euphoric looking yet somewhat spastic state… The look in his eyes is like that of someone on a ride they have no hope of controlling in any way… Every cylinder is firing on this one and Jerry has the look on his face that makes us all aware of how special the moment is… The Look that says, “SHIT Is Going Down RIGHT NOW!!!!” He takes his solo with an undeniable fire and and as animated as is possible for the Boss… He’s in perfect command of the moment and with a few deep bends and a strong throw of the final notes into the air brings it all home… Everyone seems to be Paddling as hard as they possibly can as the efforts are generating an energy that seems to have caused the building to lift off… Our Hearts were opened wide… Some Dark Spots were exposed, Romanced and Then Ripped Out… The Feeling of Pure Ecstasy And Pure Sorrow All at the same time is way more than our carnal minds were created to endure… We’ve been forever changed in this moment… We smile as we cry… We Cry as we Laugh… We hug those nearest to us… We acknowledge that we were just part of something that was never available prior to that moment and won’t be completely available ever again… It’s All too much…
Category Archives: Grateful Dead
Since the rumors that proceeded the official announcement, nothing has been the same in Grateful Dead Land. A palpable energy that rivals the feeling we had in the old days when the lighting guys climbed up their ladders is ever present within all of our daily lives. This week was no exception. Here’s your week in review…
Weir got a total brojob from John Mayer on the Really Friggin Late Show and millions of Chinese men were instantly referred to this website by Google due to this sentence and the headline. I think I speak for everybody when I say Bob looked well fed. His streamlined physique of the past has given way to a shape that more resembles the VW Bugs that have followed him around the country for nearly 50 years. Then again, for just about all of us, every Throwback Thursday has shown us that our current picture looks like the “Before” shot in nearly every self improvement program on earth and our pictures from the past more closely resemble the “After”. Just another case of “the sky was yellow and the sun was blue.”
As previously reported, John Mayer, now listening to the Dead for 3 whole years, absolutely understood who the alpha male was once Weir walked onto the set of the show this week. John was interviewed off camera at the after show party and was heard saying, “At nearly 100 years old he’s absolutely magnetic and oozes an otherworldly sensuality. As manly as I am, even I dreamed of Weir treating me like an aspiring actress at Bill Cosby’s House.”
Trips to the mailbox have become just like trips to probation officers on urine day. For 20 years the mailbox overflowed with flyers and unpaid bills as mail carriers often questioned whether or not the residents were still alive. Within the past 2 weeks 90% of Dead Heads now know their letter carrier’s name, marital status, number and names of children, place of birth, astrological sign and number of years on the job. For the first time since 1995, Dead Heads are treating postal employees like official Grateful Dead Family. Since most Grateful Dead fans have never tipped their letter carriers at Christmas, their mail people find great joy in delivering rejection letters to their new BFFs.
A new problem now exists as fans begin returning to post offices, that typically carry about $125 in petty cash, demanding their $5000 in unused money orders be refunded immediately. As post offices encourage fans to deposit them in their bank accounts they’re quickly realizing over 50% of the fans of the Grateful Dead don’t have bank accounts. When encouraged to open an account, it was discovered that another 50% of fans were far too paranoid to let a bank know they exist. The postal service has acknowledged this mail order debacle as the biggest challenge since the arrival of UPS and other companies that deliver shit far more effectively.
Western Union, a fan favorite throughout the years on Grateful Dead Tour, has facilitated more drug deals than the entire country of Columbia. They claim that fans that used their overpriced and unreasonable services should have much fewer problems with their refunds since they’re still the preferred method of money transfer for nearly all illegal activity in the country as well as most of the world. Anybody that actually toured with the Dead is well acquainted with their services and have used them in nearly every state in the country. Nothing says crime like picking up cash sent to Casey Jones in Bonner Springs, Kansas with absolutely no ID required!
Rumors of added shows began to circulate as information leaked by Grateful Dead super fan, Ted Kane, that Shoreline Amphitheater was booked for shows in the Summer under the name “Nickelback”. Ted, a fine man whose facial hair has been known to cause Beard Envy, cracked the code of this alias by assuming the four original members plus Bruce made 5 thus the clever name. Be sure to buy your tickets early! Executives at Madison Square Garden were questioned about bands that have booked the historic venue and replied, “We don’t know nuttin.” Everybody that’s from the northeast is well aware that “I don’t know nuttin” really means, “That motherfucker knows something!” Only time will tell…
In these trying and uncertain times medical doctors have discovered an entirely new and treatable condition that’s being called,
Social Ticket Related Emotional Sensitivity Syndrome or STRESS for short. Symptoms include mailbox obsession, spending over 20 hours a week rereading the VIP Packages on CID’s website and posting the exact same questions as everybody else on every Facebook group you belong to. Petitions can be found online urging legislators to allow for the issuance of medical marijuana cards to treat this condition naturally.
As Big Pharma becomes increasingly more aware of the rising presence of Big Ganja, there’s sure to be an epic battle.
While mentioning VIP Packages, many women between the ages of 45 and 65 were wondering if the Steve Parish Package would still be available. For many years, they took care of Steve’s Package and were permitted entry without any tickets at all.
That’s all for this week my friends, stay tuned… Love You Long Time!!!!
Gratefully Deadicated,
Dean Sottile (pronounced SoTilly)
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