Mountainhood - "America 2"

When Bob Dylan died it was junk food and weed. Shoes at the door, grass on the floor, the smell of breath, leather, and char. The hospital bed slung out to the end of its rope, its sheet edges and side-metal stretched back into kind of a smile. Pressed up to the window, a tiny square screened open, a plume of smoke puffed happily upward, and it was day. Before noon, even.

When Bob Dylan died it was harmonica drone missives. The way a dog will howl during the rinse cycle, or Matthew Barney will go to jail over a paint stroke, an unexpected bomb went off, people lost their shit. Harmonica drone grew in feedback loops across eight states, it reverberated through the jetstream, you couldn't hold a conversation outdoors. People smashed their guitars they couldn't play and Raiders ghosts swirled out, blue and scary and sounding like sirens.

When Bob Dylan died it was all-out war. Sleepy peaceniks kicked over new leaves, sick and peeved from the lifelong informational squeeze. Truth was given a monetary value, it traded public on the market, and once business was happy like a sleepy fed hog, it went to one-eyed sleep again, back patted and safe. But soon the secrets leaked like professional music, movies, and books, and they tried to put Dylan's corpse on trial for knowing the truth. The body was stolen, rescued, hidden and sealed. Nobody knows quite where. Twitter thinks Trinidad. I think New York.

[America 2 or Nahuel Huapa: A Saga, The Intense Vibes of the Rainbow, A Tale of Transformation of My Brother available for pre-order]

related: read Sean's infamous "After Michael Jackson Died", which has some of the best (and still going!) comments.

(photo by Andi State)