Ohh. It’s so, so good to properly listen to Dylan after such a long time. After nearly months of his music picking up young dust in my room, I knew I was in the mood for him this evening, and suddenly picked Highway 61 Revisited and played it loud, and was back on the railroad, looking through the moonlight at two different choices. Something about this record means twisted illusions and realities, bold love with dirty and tired consequences, human decision, heavy fingers and round, completed words with a dribbling trail - looking out of barred windows and then rolling meaninglessly in moonlit fields. Colour-wise, it’s made up of dark, monotonous shades of gray and an overcooked, ripe, primitive, and faded green with splashes of maroon and yellow that glow like dark spots when you rub your eyes. The mood is absolutely tumultuous and structured all at once, like verbal diarrheoa and streams of consciousness inked dirtily, but still purposefully, onto perfectly accentuated paper. I’d give this record an optional (and possibly stupidly abstract) title: Purpose (and Decision).

And so I’d like to break a little word virginity: pure eargasm.

Actually, one of the things I love most about my “relationship” with Dylan’s music is that it goes through intense stages of on/half-off, but I’m continuously aware of it. I know that when I go back to one of his works, I will find something new in it, and enjoy it for often a different reason from before. It’s like reading a book between long breaks - suddenly you feel the urge to pick it up and read it passionately, and it rumbles you with new meaning. Then you close the book, feeling more assured and knowledged about its meaning, and stack it back on the shelf so you look at it when you wake with the new, watery light every morning.