When Garcia heard that the event was black tie, he wondered how many fucks to give, decided on ‘none’, threw on his courtroom-appearance blazer over the t-shirt he’d been wearing for four days, and got in the Beemer.
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Tag: jerry garcia (Page 121 of 139)
Not many other bands contained such unabashedly bespectacled members. Most musicians would rather squint through the show.
Garcia, on the other hand, enjoyed seeing what he had accidentally burned down.
For fuck’s sake, man.
No matter how much poison Parish put down, he could never get all of the ninjas out of the rigging.
Those balloons? They ain’t full of air.
It’s better to simply avoid nitrous oxide, instead of the more common relationship people have with the gas, which is to enjoy it immensely until, one afternoon, they enjoy it slightly too immensely and get a dick-hair away from stroking out and never do it again. Everyone with a certain level of drug-fondness who has made it to a certain age has had that one bad time; nitrous is Latin for ‘tequila’.
In the Torah, it is written, “Thou shalt celebrate the New Year with somewhat-dim photos of Garcia and Bobby playing acoustic guitar with the New Riders in St. John of Jerusalem Cathedral in Kent England.”
Admittedly, it’s a weird thing to find in a holy book, but let’s face it: it’s ain’t the goofiest statement in that book by a long shot.
L’Shana Tova, everybody. (For all the gentiles, that’s Hebrew for “Happy New Year.”) (Well, kind of: there is technically no word in Hebrew for ‘happy’.)
Bobby felt light onstage sometimes, not like he was floating, no: he was streaking across the sky with the band at his back and the horizon in his hair. No running start needed, not even a second at idle: just up, up, away. Past the lights, by the speakers, through the ceiling–sheer magical physics punching him through the roof–and he’s gone, going fast fast faster than the need of light (which is far greater than the speed of light, as light is rather insecure) until he hits the part of the universe that isn’t part of the universe and Bobby flies fast, he flies into the Space Between and every time this happens, Bobby feels an intense sadness that only someone who has loved only in dreams would recognize.
Sometimes, though, Bobby forgot it was a dream and started pretending to fly and making WHOOOSH noises into the mic and Garcia would just side-eye the fuck out of him until he started behaving.
First: Parish was Garcia’s Chewbacca. Discuss.
Second: I have been misspelling Parish’s name for the entire history of this thing and I blame you fuckers and retract my thanks from before.
Just set your beer can on the hippie-built thing with all the exposed wiring surrounded by habitual drug users. What could go wrong?
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