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Flashback to 12/30/ 89: Estimated->Terrapin… The Official Home of Flashbacks!

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This night has been packed with magic beyond our ability to adequately convey using words… Bertha->Good Lovin, Sugaree started the night off with flashbacks from the 70s. There’s something about a second set Jack Straw that can’t be found in a first set version. The China>Rider was so powerful, clean and pure that it actually caused the air inside of the Oakland Coliseum to begin circulating… The Estimated found Weir in top form and the ensuing jam contained components of everything I like best about The Grateful Dead… The Estimated Jam has me at the edge of mental and psychological tolerance… I feel like I could go Syd Barrett at any time… Jerry with the wah-wah pedal making bubbles out of the boiling grey plasma that used to be my brain… I feel like I’m eating a lozenge made by Duracell… Tastes like I’m sucking on a 9 volt battery… I swear there’s fuckin birds in this arena… They’re flying around in my peripheral vision but disappear as soon as I look directly at them… Everybody around me that I make eye contact with is all pupil, zero iris… I can tell how many of us are close to the edge… The lights seem to make the band look like images from a 3D movie when you don’t wear the glasses… Inside the Estimated Jam existed the sound and possibilities for just about every tune you could imagine out of Estimated and I heard the Other One teased in there too… Maybe later… I heard Dark Star notes out of Phil… Weir dropped some chords from Uncle John’s… Brent is way out there in full blown Brent mode… It’s up to Garcia but he’s just busy as hell staring at his own hands as they continue to stir the cauldron of chaos… A few of us could fall off of the earth at any time…

As Garcia wakes up from the trance he put himself in, he straightens up… Looks around to his right… He has the look I have when I wake up from sleeping in class… There’s a sense of relief in seeing him wake up… It’s like making it to the surface after being underwater almost too long… As Garcia commands the attention of the rest of the band he peers over his glasses and fires off the 5 most identifiable notes that exist within our world… Like the first gasp of air that you’d take as you surface, The opening notes of Terrapin add perfect order where seconds ago existed complete chaos… You can actually feel the energy created when 20,000 people smile simultaneously… The Inspiration of one of the greatest Masterpieces ever composed begins to ooze from Garcia like Psychedelic Syrup would ooze from a Cosmic Maple Tree… Even though I’ve experienced this moment a hundred times, It always seems as fresh and enlightening as it was the first time… The procession moves forward with the story teller in perfect form as I hear sounds and configurations of the acrobatic nature of the music against the absolutely steadfast delivery of the vocal… Every note is totally deliberate with a confidence that transfers itself onto all of us… It’s so loud and so clear up here that I can actually hear the absence of moisture in Garcia’s throat… As the teller is getting paid off in gold we hold our collective breath for the segment that sends us back under the water again…. As the mystic piece of mayhem turns round and round into this pile of auditory question marks, Garcia reaches in and grabs the string that causes the troubled and descending kite of confusion to abruptly rise and take flight once again… Mickey climbs the percussive ladder of ecstasy hitting everything he owns along the way and making that full Vulcan mode face… Yup, that one… He mercilessly backhands the cymbal that’s suspended on its stand from above, his right, our left… Billy’s eyes are so far back in his head I think he’s actually watching the effects this moment is having on his own brain… He’s chewing the hell out of something… INSPIRATION!!!!! We’re all moved brightly… As statements just seem vague at last, we collectively flash through pictures of the trials and tribulations that have been overcome to be part of this very moment beginning with the phone call and message on the hotline… The Post Office for money orders and mail orders… The job I left without notice for the 10th time… The parents that want me to be a “normal” son… The 16 hour trip to get here… I’m so high I think for a moment that this could all be happening inside of my mom’s vacuum… I shake it off… Some Rise… Some Fall… Some Climb… Holy Shit I’m here!!! All the stuff that happens to get here… The moments we talk about in the months between these moments are going on RIGHT FUCKIN NOW!!!! I can’t figure out!!! If it’s the end or beginning!!! As the whistle starts screaming The Band goes into the hook that is a staple to all of us… It’s nearly heavy metal as the Power of 6 Super Charged Souls channel the Power of every Force of Nature into the room with feedback screaming like the tires of a racecar on the tarmac… Weir is throwing chords into the stratosphere… I don’t know what Phil had for dinner but if I had to guess I’d say Dynamite and Lighter Fluid. He’s dropping bombs that shake the reinforced concrete floor we march upon… One leg bent… Right Shoulder higher than the left… Bill and Mickey appear to have 3 arms each… Their hands are a blur and their arms leave trails across their kits as we seem to roll into cartoon land… We understand the Steal Your Face Logo like never before as we’re certain the boiling grey matter of our brains are now crystallized… Half Red… Half Blue… 13 Point Lightning Bolt in between… Our molecules have been completely and totally reorganized… Airto Moreira’s sinister cackling kicks off one of the best drum segments of the year… It’s still getting stranger…

https://archive.org/details/gd89-12-30sbd.gardner.9754.sbeok.shnf

Dead To The Core,

Dean Sottile (pronounced SoTilly)

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CID Packages Pack a Punch Plus a Few Thoughts From the Official Home of Unofficial News!

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Monday Morning, CID Entertainment revealed their plans and packages for The Grateful Dead’s Fare Thee Well Shows in Chicago. In a highly anticipated moment you could hear the collective sound of thousands of anuses snap shut like Republicans at a Burlesque Show. For some reason, fans thought that being a VIP should come at far less of a price. For those that want to be as close to Garcia as possible during the weekend’s festivities, The Workingman’s Dead Package, sure to sell out relatively fast, affords you the opportunity to have reserved seats not far from Jerry’s current home. Maybe slap a sticker on the blimp as it flies by!!! An absolutely brilliant way to sell the less desirable seats I might add! Some fans wondered if there would be cheaper ways to be part of the action. Joe, the leader of a garage band in the 70s said, “Be a crew slut! You’ll love it! Don’t make a fuss just get on the bus…”

It seems like hippies are extremely upset about pricey plans designed to put prime seats in the hands of the same people they’ve been overcharging for drugs for the past 50 years. Santa Cruz Hippie, who goes by the name, Wholesome Raindrop Sunflake told us, “I never thought those working stiffs I’ve been selling $100 eighths to for the past decade would have better seats than me.Total cash grab, man.” Meanwhile, thousands of nerds that went to college instead of Grateful Dead Tour appeared to be thrilled to have a chance at purchasing something that used to actually require connections.

At approximately 7:30 AM Punxsutawney Phil, saw his shadow which signaled 5 more months of complaining before the shows in Chicago. Of course there are many exceptions to be found. Brother Bob Richards, a man that used to have dreadlocks, said he was happier than a suitcase full of acrobats! Brother Bob who reserved hotel accommodations based solely on rumors told us, “I haven’t been this happy since Jerry sang Candyman, Althea and To Lay Me Down all in one set in Atlanta on April Fool’s Day in 1990.” When asked what he had for lunch or what his mom’s birthday is, Bob was clueless. When asked about the song played in the post space Jerry ballad slot he quickly answered, “Stella Blue!!!” For all the brain cells that have been murdered throughout the years, one thing remains, we all still vividly remember every song that was played on our favorite nights from decades ago.

As for me, with every day that passes, I see more and more of what the Grateful Dead experience has taught me throughout the course of my life. Within our world there are so many different types of personalities. Some can laugh, some insist on crying. Some find joy in just about anything. Others,  when given the same set of circumstances, will only find problems. For many, everything is good enough while for others, nothing is ever good enough. In the early stages of events leading up to this anniversary, it’s like putting a magnifying glass on everybody’s internal condition. That’s something our scene has produced in such a unique way for a long, long time. The free spirited ways of my youth with the Grateful Dead taught me to surrender to the rhythm of life without being attached to my perception of how things should be according to my intellectual estimations. I learned that those that contribute to the scene, without necessarily expecting anything in return, usually stayed on the receiving end of good fortune. I learned that those who preached many of these ideas could easily become something much different when given the opportunity. I also learned that many of the folks that showed me these things stayed pure and true to them even when external opportunities to become something else were being chosen by many around them. I’ve kept those people close. I learned that when the lights went out in the arena the intense lights of self awareness began to shine brightly on my soul and internal condition. I learned not to take myself so damn seriously. I learned that in the middle of a Playin jam, every confused and unsure piece of me would bubble up to the surface for assessment and release if I surrendered to it. I learned in the middle of a China Doll, as tears poured down my face from the depths of my heart, that I was only fractured not completely broken. Just a little nervous, not to be labeled with a condition like anxiety. I learned that I didn’t need a therapist, just close friends and Spring Tour. I learned as the incredible power of a Morning Dew pulled the curtain off of all my fears and insecurities and placed them before my eyes to be dealt with or just stuffed back into a dark corner of my mind. The choice was always mine and mine alone. I learned the immense significance found in it’s closing verse as Garcia reached deep and proclaimed “I guess it doesn’t matterrrr anyyyyy waaaaaaaaaay!!!” The statement was so significant because of depth and magnitude of humility inherent in it’s delivery… Because in all reality, It did matter… It always mattered… It still matters…

Gratefully Deadicated,
Dean Sottile (pronounced SoTilly)

www.gratefuldean.com
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