Bob's Fate | Bob Dylan & Masked & Anonymous - Page 7

Well, thank God for Luke Wilson, who turns up and bashes Bridges to death with a guitar (how apt), rendering him helpless and dying, with the redemptive Penelope Cruz (who appears out of nowhere) at his side, offering him his absolution from all sin. As he lies dying, he talks of white doves, cathedrals, and the like. It’s all so very unreal, so very strange. So very much like the lyrics to a Dylan song, come to think of it.

I am a bit loathe to use the word, true regarding writers, the way Luke Wilson and Jack Fate throw it around here. A “true” writer, I suppose, would know that writing means more than jotting down a few notes and writing out whatever occurs. Yes, write what occurs, but it must be done with some regimen and regularity. With discipline and desire and drive, like any other “job” the job of being a writer is a tough one to fill. . It is a daily job and task. It is something you go at with a vengeance, as with any job. You do not give up, get writer’s block or quit or not write because you “don’t feel like it.” You write. It is a calling as much as any ministry of any kind. A real and true calling is hard to come by… and likely that definition or feeling will differ from person to person. No two callings are likely the same, at least, not in my experience.

The point here is that Dylan, though Luke Wilson, is able to insult this journalist (you can almost hear the contempt and the ooze in the word here, as if by saying it one would be tainted by something unclean). Wilson, like Dylan believed (believes?) is saying that the journalist makes a mockery of “real” writing.

So the scene illustrates Dylan’s dislike, even disdain of interviews, proven once again not do long ago on the disastrous 60 minutes interview with Ed Bradley. Hell, even I thought the freakin’ Victoria’s Secret commercial Dylan did was more interesting than that, and I hated that he did that, even though I understood it and knew that I was holding him to some ridiculous standard that I did not hold myself to. That if someone had offered me millions of dollars to do some ad with busty models dressed in panties and wings, I would do it in a heartbeat. So, I am not only a journalist (yuk), I am also a hypocrite.

Article Author: Sadi Ranson-Polizzotti

Sadi Ranson-Polizzotti is a published writer in both the United States and Europe. She is widely known for her music commentary, particularly her writings about Bob Dylan about whom she runs a highly-trafficked site. …

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