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petrovnaon 2015-May-05 at 00:32:39 GMT-5: It was 1975, and I was 28. Like everybody else, I loved my own generation's music best. But nothing, until then, had compelled me to go to a single concert, or festival, or lalapalooza-doo-whop-diddly-whomp event of any kind. I didn't like crowds; was nearly phobic about them. Only Joni Mitchell could make me downright happy to be in a big, noisy crowd, eager to hear the music. She made be behave like a fan, and like it.
Now if she would just get up and out of that bed (when it feels right), and come to perform in Berkeley (where I now live), I solemnly promise to drag my own old bones out of their semi-interment just to hear her sing and play. Or reminisce. Or whatever she wants to do. Now that's a fan talking. Joni Mitchell, I just plain love you. Get well.