Went to see the Bob Dylan movie last night. Complete Unknown. Quite frankly, it’s brilliant. And that’s without hearing a word spoken. Timothy Chalomet spoke just like Dylan, whiny mumble. He sang like Dylan too. Whiny mumble. But those words I knew, well most of ‘em. But the dialogue? My hearing’s almost as bad as Bob’s speech. And the denouement, not in the film but in the hard-to-hear, was his conversation with Johnny Cash, (deep whiny mumble). I’m sure it was an interesting one. I’ll never know.

But the movie was such fantastic picture of America in the early 60s and its values. How Dylan just arrived in New York with a guitar on his back and a few songs in his head. Just moved in with a series of women, because that’s what you did, and why not. Before he was famous, so this was not a ‘groupy’ thing. And he didn’t have a group then anyway. The roads he crossed on his travels were lined with fabulous 50s and 60s Detroit metal, more fins than an ocean full of sharks. And Bob takes his first pay check from Columbia Records and buys himself a Truimph motorbike. Riding round always helmetless and often drunk. As ya did. How we all miss those days. Those lucky enough to have survived the first time round.

I like Dylan’s music. I wasn’t mad on it at the time but really, it was a bit sophisticated for a 7 year old. Even me. And remember, sophistication was invented in Ilford. So whereas the Beatles appealed to everyone with their wonderfully early pop shit, Dylan was subtle, nuanced, brilliantly clever lyrics which, quite frankly, no 7 year-old wants to hear and if he does, he wouldn’t understand them. ‘She loves me, yeah, yeah, yeah’ is so much easier to get your head round than feeling ‘like a rolling stone’. But now I can admire the man, and his truly amazing words and both are great. And the film does justice to all of it.

I booked the tickets in the morning. How hard is that? Picturehouse, done it a hundred times. But somehow managed to book for Sunday instead of Saturday. Fuck. Phoned up, got a refund, and booked again.

For Sunday. Sunday??? WTF??? Tried one more time, after discovering how easy the refund process was. Ahhh, that’s better, this time it’s for… FUCKING SUNDAYYYY!!!!.

When I phoned for the refundS I booked with the geezer. Daniel. By then my best mate.

Anyway, glad we went, and even more gladder-er that SPURS JUST BEAT MAN UNITED!!!!!

Deleriously happy Sunday

A xxxx