Listening to this with my eyes closed proved to be eventful meditation:
What started out as me trying to imagine myself at the Fillmore East when this was recorded turned into an opening of an old wound I had forgotten about. The drum solo made me imagine a fist fight I was involved in and then I filled my head with images with making love to a girl, which was when the guitar-mimicking-a-bird-chirping started. I then contemplated my future with her, as well as love and God (are they the same?) as equal competitors for the best feeling in the world. Then I thought of laughter, and Mitch Hedberg, and I found myself filled with so much joy that tears of it began rolling down my face. Before I knew it, 33 minutes was over.
Listening to this with my eyes closed proved to be eventful meditation: What started out as me trying to imagine myself at the Fillmore East when this was recorded turned into an opening of an old wound I had forgotten about. The drum solo made me imagine a fist fight I was involved in and then I filled my head with images with making love to a girl, which was when the guitar-mimicking-a-bird-chirping started. I then contemplated my future with her, as well as love and God (are they the same?) as equal competitors for the best feeling in the world. Then I thought of laughter, and Mitch Hedberg, and I found myself filled with so much joy that tears of it began rolling down my face. Before I knew it, 33 minutes was over.