Blue Eyed Bader

Opening up the glove box of my late model sedan I found an old cassette tape that reminded me of a simpler time.  It was an old Bob Dylan tape, cracked case and dirty dust jacket, but it looked like it still worked.  The album was Highway 61 and I thought back to when I last listened to it on cassette and remembered that period of my life. It was a time that I let the music define me.  I would listen to Jimi Hendrix or Bob Dylan and act mysterious, hoping that the girls that I dated would remember me for that.  Thinking back I can only laugh at how pathetic that seems. Do not get me wrong, I never experienced the make-up wearing angst-ridden youth of the 80s wearing nothing but black and thinking their lives were so miserable.  It was just a phase I went through that I enjoyed the mind altering and often depressing lyrics of Jimi and Bob.  This was still during my years as a dead head so I did not stray far from the type of music that I typically enjoye...