
Around 28 I developed Late Onset Bob Dylan Fandom. I'm an early period Dylanist, the time between '61 and '65, when he released seven truly great albums before he turned 25. (OK, maybe six. His first one is good but not great.) There are some very good albums and some great songs after '66, but it is clear that up until the last track of Blonde on Blonde the hands of God were upon him. I listened to those albums repeatedly, even got some Newport bootlegs, pre-and-post electric, and marveled over the different versions of Mr. Tambourine Man, the live version of Maggie's Farm and Like a Rolling Stone with the Paul Butterfield Blues Band, etc. At some point during this phase of my life, in a bar on Lincoln Avenue in Chicago, I saw a poster of Dylan in a studio holding a Fender and immediately thought-- I want that. I even went so far as to find it online... but soon realized I could not do it. I could never hang a poster of pop musician on my wall again. I put aside those childish things, and I should not, I dare not, try to get them back.