August 8 Alan

AWFUCK! . . . Angels all dance by firelight--no! Angels are firelight, breaking the black air with whoops and leaps like awgawd! I didn't think I had this much party in me when a little red gets into my belly that's when I go! go! go!

Most everyone on this run's got a mama but instead of them heading into the woods to get off it's like the first time I got on the road with the guys when I was a prospect. Mesmerized by the flames, drunk on Bud and the perfume of pine and fire, we stomp and holler like the devil himself, the old ladies sitting by and grunting not-all comfortably that boys will be boys. They don't get it. A woman never gets the devil in her.

The wind we make whips licks of fire up and the great redwoods quake. Branches tremble. Needles quiver to the ground. Earth shudders.



pssst. . .sign the guestbook!