The Month of March: Marking the Beginning of a Month Long Festival of Bob Dylan to Celebrate the Birth of Crocuses.

Today, I am in the fallout resulting from yesterday's marathon of the Bob Dylan documentary, No Direction Home: Bob Dylan, which is a three-something hour long documentary directed by Martin Scorsese. It was a matter of ritual, rather than a burning urge, since the beginning of March marks (for me) the beginning of Bob Dylan month (which to most makes no sense, seeing as the month itself is of no particular relevance to him, though one might take the large leap to say that it is somehow related to the fact the his first electric album debuted in March 1965, however that is really of no consequence.)

It really came to be, ten years ago when I was a young teenage girl, freshly potted into the streets of Chicago after moving there to be with my mother. Her flat, was comparable to a cold-water flat except it did have hot-water . . . sometimes. To make it more homely for me, my brother, who, for his complete lack of personal contact in my life always seemed to know where I was and what I was doing, used his (as previously mentioned in earlier posts) favorite method of contact, the postal system, to mail me a collection of music (which turned out to be a collection of Bob Dylan, rather) and some photographs and prints (of Bob Dylan). The month I moved there and received the packages happened to be in March, the beginning of March particularly. Ever since, March has been Bob Dylan month for me; I move the now framed prints and photos, to hang on the front room's wall and I pull out that collection of music to play the track's endlessly. In 2005, when Scorsese's documentary came out, my brother mailed me a copy.

Right now, I am playing "Blood on the Tracks" and because I'm not going in a specific chronological order, I think I'm going to pop back to "Blonde on Blonde" and then "Highway 61 Revisited" next. We'll see how it works out.

Ah. March. It's the month in which the crocus's and daffodils bloom. For me, it the month of Bob Dylan. On another note, I think John is appreciating this switch as well, I could tell he was getting a little tired of some of the kicks I was on and when I put the music on this morning he didn't seem as agitated. Plus, he totally loved last night's movie . . . I was going to break it up into two halves and finished watching the second half today, but he made us keep going until 11p.m. when it finally ended.

Yeah, he's a total sucker for documentaries.