From: vsh@etnibsd.uucp (Steve Harris)
Subject: Re: Nudity (reminiscences)
Organization: Eaton Corp, Semiconductor Equipment Div., Beverly, MA
Date: Thu, 8 Oct 1992 19:51:59 GMT

[ forgive any inaccuracies, this is all done from memory ;-) ]


Valentine's day, 2/14/70, Fillmore East, late show

    (my 2nd show -- 2nd row seats AND backstage passes!!!) 

Those of you who have a tape know what a killer show this was!

Second set ended with:

    Alligator > ... > Caution > massive feadback jam > AWBYGN

Those of us whose minds were suitably altered by chemical means (at
least SOME of us) experienced the feedback jam as a kind of incredible,
massive energy vortex --

    You know how sometimes when the band is cookin and maybe pig is
    struttin his stuff and he's singin about gettin up on your pony and
    ridin a while, you know how the music can give you this warm,
    expansive, really *good* feeling down between your legs, I mean, in
    your guts, I mean, in your crotch, man, you know what I mean...?

		Sometimes we ride on your horses,
		Sometimes, we walk alone...

Anyway, the feedback was like this incredible energy vortex which was
drawing its energy into a bottomless black-hole (which the light show
folks did an excelent job of reproducing).  The stage was bathed in
black light, you couldn't see any of the musicians, just the glow of a
few LEDs on the amps.  The sensation was, instead of riding on horses,
that the energy was being sucked out through this zone in your guts,
leaving behind this incredible vacuum -- like if you could bend down
and look through the window you would see a desolate, barren moonscape
(after the show I was talking with this woman friend and she had the
exact same experience!  at least to the extent we were able to talk
about it -- you know, it gets kinda personal!)

It seemed to go on forever, wave after wave of energy disappearing into
the black hole.  Finally it subsided and, out of nowhere the boyz
appeared at the lower left of the stage and sang just one verse of
AWBYGN, and then were gone!


As the house lights slowly came up and we all returned to our bodies
and pulled ourselves together, I had the strangest sensation that there
was this dry wind blowing through my legs....  could almost hear it.
On the PA they were playing Dylan, Mr. Tamborine Man:

	I know that evening's empire has returned into sand,
	Vanished from my hand
	Left me blindly here to stand
	But still not sleeping,

	My weariness amazes me, I'm branded on my feet,
	I have no one to meet,
	And my ancient, empty street's to dead for dreaming.

As we turned to head out, here comes this ragged-looking guy, glazed
look in his eyes, totally naked, working his way down towards the stage
over row after row of seats, yelling repeatedly:

	Hey, come back, come back.
	You can't leave us here like this!

As I averted my eyes from this forlorn apparition, I noticed that,
instead of a cock and balls, his crotch was just a vacant, white,
slightly shimmering opening into nothingness!

And then the Fillmore ushers closed in on him and jostled him off to
the side and away.


	Hey Mr. Tamborine man, play a song for me,
	I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm goin to.
	Hey Mr. Tamborine man, play a song for me,
	In the jingle-jangle mornin I'll come followin you.

-- 
... Steve Harris - Eaton Corp. - Beverly, MA - vsh%etnibsd@uunet.uu.net