BossCookie

It’s now 4:02 am. Slept all Friday night and napped Saturday afternoon. The sickness is mostly gone. Feeling better. But of course…awake at this ungodly hour. On the couch. A rock salt light is glowing orange. I’m wearing earphones, the good kind, the expensive kind, the special occasion kind. Though nothing is really special at the moment, except no work tomorrow, no concerns really. The best part—earlier I was flipping through my wallets of live Springsteen concerts and found a gem. Been listening to it for the last hour—July 7th 1978, The Roxy, Los Angeles, California. From an FM Broadcast. 94.7 KMET. To quote the DJ, “I can’t believe Bruce is not dead right now.” Just listening—I can’t believe it either. This is one of the best shows I’ve heard in months. The high energy level is relentless. The band is solid—one of those performances when everything is perfect.

The second set just kicked off. “To all them bootleggers out there in radioland, roll your tapes.” Into to Paradise by the C. Boom! It’s so good. I wish for more nights like this to appreciate a little night in July, 1978. Daylight will come soon and fuck it all up. These nights are too rare. Not enough time to shut down and listen. We all could use this. We should all demand more time somehow. Springsteen is sort of creeping up on me again. The love of the new album has me in a stir. Once I hit the catalogue and start sifting through old live shows, I know the bug bit me.

Damn that pot cookie.