“I said I’m running but I’ll take my time, a friend of the Devil is a friend of mine” (Hunter, Garcia, Dawson © 1970, “Friend of the Devil” from American Beauty).
I got stuck on Devil references in American Music yesterday morning, in response to a question and answer period. Getting ready to hike for the afternoon, I had the “Devil Went Down to Georgia” refrains sifting through my skull, but the album is a little scratchy and I didn’t get all of the lyrics to that one.
The Christian Singles Association or some such group sent me a letter and an application to join. Responses which I didn’t enter, but certainly thought about were rather varied. But I sense that there’s a good idea here. “What age group are you looking for?” (Imagine what could be done with that) “Religious preference?” (Satanic Cult? Buddhist? Practical Pagan?) “What are you looking for in the people you date?” (More bodies for my Army of the Night) The very tone of the letter and application was deeply offensive in a rather innocuous way. Too bad I couldn’t find my red ink. I had to burn a little sage just to get the feeling out of the trailer. And to think, the previous evening I had stayed up until 4 in the morning finishing up the Rudy Anaya book wherein good triumphs over evil. I was correct when I figured out what would happen within the first 100 pages. It’s how the author got there which made it such good reading — it even surprised me. Reading about Albuquerque has been very good, and I was fine with the upcoming trip until I realized I was going to have to put on long pants to accommodate the cool New Mexico weather.
