Early one mornin’ the sun was shinin’,
I was layin’ in bed

I was back in college. But it wasn’t the seventies. It was positively now.

At first it seemed exciting. I was setting up my dorm room and then I went down to the student union. And as I began to speak to the twentysomethings, that’s when it hit me. I didn’t want to be here!

How did this happen? How did I agree to this? I was in for four years? Back in Vermont? I needed to be in New York City. I wanted to be at Columbia. Who did I call? My parents? You?

I decided to take matters into my own hands. I decided to go to the city and plead my life.

And that’s how I found myself at a party in Pacific Palisades. Not a wingding featuring the rich and famous, but one held by a twentysomething woman who ignored me while she talked to her Seth Rogen wannabe boyfriend. And being silent, not pleading my case, my mind in a different place from my body, her lithe girlfriend who hadn’t even looked me in the eye sat on my lap. I reached down and put my fingers in her cake. And she loved it.

I figured delivering pleasure would connect us, but then she’d have nothing to do with me. So I hitched a ride with the middle eastern men who’d just appeared.

But I wasn’t in their car.

I didn’t have a car. I’d walked from Vermont to California. And suddenly I was walking again. Maybe I should have copped a ride with the police officer who came to break up the party. Instead I was wandering in a church parking lot. Not looking for salvation, but a way out, to PCH.

And that’s when I stole my old BMW from Leo. And as I was driving it down the curvy road to my old abode, I hit every car in attendance. When did I become such an incredible loser? How did I make such a mess of my life?

And that’s when my new friend told me we were going to see Bob Dylan. We were gonna hang.

And as we sojourn on I tell this guy that I thought the last album was crap. And that Bob hadn’t done anything great since "Things Have Changed". From the "Wonder Boys" soundtrack.

There was no response. And that’s when I rolled over and saw it was late enough to get up.

The rest of the house was cold, but the bedroom was warm. The needle said it was seventy, even though I’d set the thermostat ten degrees cooler. That must be why I tossed and turned. But this is the second time this week.

There was a message on the machine from someone looking for money. And when I opened the front door to retrieve the newspapers, it was raining. When I got back inside, I pulled my copy of "Blood On The Tracks". I needed to hear "Tangled Up In Blue". It was the only thing that would keep me from crying. Because lines from the song had been embedded in my brain from the moment I woke up.

All the people we used to know
They’re an illusion to me now.
Some are mathematicians
Some are carpenter’s wives.
Don’t know how it all got started,
I don’t know what they’re doin’ with their lives.
But me, I’m still on the road
Headin’ for another joint
We always did feel the same,
We just saw it from a different point of view,
Tangled up in blue.