Ever listen to the Dead and your attention slips just as they start to jam and then you come back to the music and realize you have absolutely no idea what song they’re playing? And then you realize, they don’t know, either.  THAT’S why it’s all worth it: the clams, the time signature disagreements, the tuning, I Fought the Law–it all rolls away when they hit that Moment.


I have, for the past two weeks, not downloaded a single show. Not one. But have I received the intended grace for my absolution? Has there been even a dent in the backlog of shows taking up space on my full-to-bulging* hard drive that I haven’t gotten to yet?

No. Of course not. I have begun listening to the streams at archive.org.

*This was Billy’s constant rejoinder to the question, “How are you, Billy?” It would go like this:

“How are you, Billy?”

“Full to bulging.”

And then he would fake punch you in the dick and then he would actually punch you in the dick because Billy’s nickname on the road was Dickpunchin’ Billy and a man without a name is nothing, nothing at all.