I’m getting older, if not old – 46 next birthday, and starting to feel it in my joints and show it with my white beard.  But the new Dylan album makes me feel that the whole thing is bearable, that age and experience have their merits and that if you can rhyme, sneer and laugh at it, regret some of it and keep a sardonic distance from the rest, then it won’t be too bad.

He’s the man. He tells it like it is. Well, as it is for me….

I keep thinking about you, baby. And I can’t hardly sleep.