I went to see Bob Dylan in concert a few days ago. He didn't say a word to us, the audience. He husked out his words like he was shucking corn. He swayed a time or two to show he was still awake, crooning. He played out his soul into the harmonica, and left thirty seconds after the show. I was just glad to be there, to see that living legend (as he steadfastly denies to being) up on stage. And it was really nice to feel personally just how little he cares about me and everyone else there, because I needed to realize I'm not some special case. He was there to do his thing, and he knew we'd come. That's all he needed. And I was content, too. And so were all the drunk sixty somethings near me... can't vouch for the sober ones.