Mazel Tov to Bob Dylan on Winning the Nobel Prize

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The Day i hung out with Bob Dylan (Also the day my mother stopped talking to me but that is another story)
I have an obscure history with Bob.My earliest meeting kind of was when i was a 16 year old kid living in NYC and with the Yippies sharing a loft with Abbie Hoffman and Jerry Rubin and people like Tuli Kupferberg the Beat poet and others as part of Underground Press syndicate.One of my friends was A.J .Weberman the so called Dylanologist ,the ultimate Dylan stalker who wrote for Rolling Stone Magazine.A.J. called me up because he was going to stalk Dylan’s house when he was living in the West Village .I said ok.I was across the street when A.J. ewas caught by Dylan going through his garbage and Dylan started beating A,J. up.I watched in horror and then took off like a shot lest i get embroiled in a fight with Bob Dylan.
That was my first kinda meeting.
The second one was this !
One night i was up in my record store and my mother was hanging out and it was pretty mellow when a dude walks in with a parka covering his face and he seems stoned and is weaving around like a mexican jellybean and my mother comes up to me and whispers ,”Are ya going to throw the bum out”?
and I say ,
”No ,Ma, Leave him be.”
And the bum is talking and babbling and going through the rock cards on the counter of famous artists and he is weird and my mother comes up again and says
” He’s making me nervous” I say , I don’t want to start any trouble ,just let him be .If he starts something i will take care of him,” I assured her somewhat
Just then i am standing there behind the counter and the bum is swaying to and fro mumbling and desperately going through the rock postcards as if he is on a mission and just then the parka opens up and an electric bolt goes right into my solar plexus and shoots out my head and there staring at me with these beady little eyes is …….BOB Fucking DYLAN!!!!!!!! Not only that i turn to my right and on my side counter is a picture of Bob .
This was surreal!
I was shocked.Could not move!
My mother again comes up to me and entreats me to throw the messhugah out!
And i immediately take action and call my two workers over to me and tell them to throw my mother out of the store !!! I know it wasn’t the nicest thing to do but the thought of my mother in between me and Dylan was more than i could take.After all Mohammed (no offense to radical islamists ) had finally come to the mountain in a manner of speaking. (no fatwas pleas)

They do that to the protestations of my mother getting really pissed off as I turn to Bob and shrug and say “eh these crazy people sometimes” and I usher Bob into the private classical room and sit him down and spend an interesting half hour with Mr.Zimmerman who is very stoned.
The third time was when i was a journalist for the Toronto Sun newspaper and was hired to cover the second Woodstock and i was backstage as Dylan came out and played .I was standing just behind the band and it was exciting even though i couldn’t understand a word he sang.
Here is another obscure story of Bob and i
A Case of Mistaken Identity ?????
Ok listen up y’all ! The picture on the left was on the Spanish island of Formentera where i have been living the past few months except this was back in 1973 when i was stranded there after being arrested by Franco’s thugs for calling them Nazi pigs .(see story on my blog at jonathondlipsin.com for complete story)
I was dumped on this island which boasted some hippies on it.and lived for a time by this windmill. This is the same windmill featured on Pink Floyd’s album ,More . They lived there at that time as well as King Crimson. There has been a story ,a legend,a myth that in 1973 Dylan lived in this windmill. I am a Dylanophile and i know Dylan was living in the West Village of New York at that time but a myth is a myth and who am i to question. Even today they talk about Dylan living there then. I found this picture and showed it to a veteran of the island and he identified it as the La Mola windmill where Dylan lived at the time i was there. I never saw Dylan but look closely . My hair was like his as well as my glasses . I had a scraggly beard as he had ,we are both Jewish and to non Jews ,well we may all look alike.
I realized that someone saw me and thought it was Dylan . Oh yeah i was always playing blues harp at the time and singing Woody Guthrie and Dylan songs. I am not one to question legends yet there it is.
I rest my case.The picture on the right was taken a few months ago when i revisited after 40 years.
I even phoned up my old comrade from the Yippie Movement back in NYC the venerable Dylanologist A.J. Weberman who used to write for Rolling Stone magazine on Dylan back then if he knew of Dylan living on Formentera.”Naw ” A.J. lazily said ,”not as far as i know.”

A couple of years ago when Tom Russell did a house concert at my friends ranch ,studio ,and house concert venue ,Studio E. Rambliin Jack Elliot showed up and i sneaked Jack in for free because I can and after the show,Jack and Tom and another singer songwriter friend of mine Jesse De Natale who learned his chops from Jack and Tom Waits and i all stood at midnight in the kitchen drinking a glass of white wine a piece and swapping tales and each of us told the story of how we each met Bob Dylan.
Jack’s story was the best complete with him mimicking Bob and Tom told a story of how he was 14 and he went to see Dylan in LA and after the show he hung out at the backdoor and out comes Dylan getting into a limousine and he see’s young 14 year old Tom and he snarls ,”Hey kid do u know where a liquor store is ?”and Tom stammers and says” No Mr.Dylan I am only 14 ” and Dylan says ,”Well come back when you’re older ,kid.
Jack imitated Dylan at Rolling Thunder tour which Jack was part of .It was so funny.

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