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244 pages, ebook
First published January 1, 1992
"Cecil, my boy, I know you haven't come to me for the truth. I just tell you the story."
I thought if I just filled my head with facts about music and sacred art, all the scary stuff I suspected about myself would be squeezed out, and my head and heart would lighten. Of course it didn't work, and I knew it wasn't working all the time I stood by the side of a road in north Africa with my thumb out, reed flutes and books by Henry miller in my pack. I just ended up with more embarrassing stuff to cart around.
There is a woman at the phone company business office who does favors for me. Although she doesn't like to see me in the flesh, she is friendly over the phone. Her husband was arrested after he admitted to his psychologist that he had sex with the fifteen-year-old daughter of his business partner. I worked on his case and had helped keep him from going to prison by establishing that he was also having sex with the psychologist. They couldn't pay me enough, but they were grateful and would do things to help, as long as we didn't have to be seen together.
"One of the old owners of the bar had been Russian Orthodox and he had put a Russian icon in there but it caused such a stir that the bishop himself came down to see that it was taken out. The owner then found a picture in a library book and ordered a copy of it for the far end of the bar. It was embossed and then mounted behind unbreakable glass and bolted to the wall underneath the hot dog rotisserie."
"I had grabbed the back of the radio that was chained to the bed of my hotel room in Rock Springs Wyoming, hoping, as the voice said, that "the blessed power of Jesus" would fill my soul. Besides a brief jolt of 110- nothing."