"I don't know why we are here, but I'm pretty sure that it is not in order to enjoy ourselves." Ludwig Wittgenstein

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Crossroads

As they approached the corner of Mulholland and West Sunset Blvd—a very tony neighborhood, not far from where Madonna lived-- Buck started softly singing, Robert Johnson’s iconic “Crossroads.”

I went down to the crossroads, tried to flag a ride.
I went down to the crossroads, tried to flag a ride.
Nobody seemed to know me, everybody just passed me by.

Richard loved the blues, and smiled as he heard his passenger sing a few lines from one of his favorite blues songs. He knew that the song was sung by a man who had reputedly made a pact with the devil, and he much liked the idea of a deal struck between a man in need of a ride and Satan, even if it was a little eerie to hear it sung now, by a smiling stranger who sat in the back seat of his jet black limousine.

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