"Sundown, Yellow Moon, I Replay The Past" The EDLIS Legend in Writing Agency Special thanks to Utzu in Romania for web page construction Text compiled by Janice Porter-Moffitt, EDLIS Legend in Writing Agent
I came up with the idea to gather everything I can find about Bob that other people have written about him, and concentrate on the following key factors:
1 -- the work must be non-fiction, with the author's intent to reveal
various aspects of Bob that may be a mystery to many of his fans...in
effect, to give Dylan a "human face"...
2 -- the non-fiction work may include biographies or autobiographies, or documentary information, or even anecdotal information pertaining to Bob. Bob doesn't necessarily have to be the main focus of the work, just as long as there is significant representation of Bob in the Dylan excerpts to provide a good "look" at our man.
from "Faithfull: An Autobiography" by Marianne Faithfull, with David Dalton; New York: Little, Brown and Company, 1994; pgs. 40-45 "...whatever arranges human destiny apparently cared little for my plans, because on April 26 (1965) God Himself checked into the Savoy Hotel. Bob Dylan came to town wearing Phil Spector shades and an aureole of hair and seething irony. "Dylan was, at that moment in time, nothing less than the hippest person on earth. The zeitgeist streamed through him like electricity. He was my Existential hero, the gangling Rimbaud of rock, and I wanted to meet him more than any other living being. I wasn't simply a fan; I worshipped him." "They had just come in from the north. 'And the rain came down for two days straight.' The way (Bob) said it made it sound almost biblical. Didn't someone once tell me rain meant memory in Dylan's songs? Dylan was so cryptic that everything seemed to take on at least one other meaning. When he asked for something with which to stir his coffee, people did a fast double-take. Did he mean spoon?" "What people saw as abrasive in Dylan was really his elliptical approach to everything. he was nothing if not a slippery subject, and he did not suffer fools gladly. His testiness came into play (mostly) with the press. A master of the anti-interview, Dylan fairly bristled at direct questions. The put-on was merely his way of not becoming churlish. When asked if he considered himself a poet he said: 'I still can't decide whether I want to be a Pagan or a musician. First I'm one and then, bang, I want to be the other. I'm just driven crazy by this.'"