Devils and Dust...A Journey Through Hell

I am a Libertarian on most issues and pretty damn conservatives on most others, so my leanings are as far from ‘progressive’ as Ted Nugent is from tofu. But I was bad last weekend. I knew I shouldn’t do it, but I just couldn’t help myself. You see, I have a past. A dark side that I hide from all but those who are closest to me. I have been a victim of this insidious mental disorder for some years now. I wish I could say I regret it and I’m sure there are those among my Republican friends who will never forgive me, but this is who I am. And this is what I did...I purchased a copy of Bruce Springsteen’s new CD/DVD ‘Devils and Dust’.
I had been putting it off, fighting the demon inside. But in a moment of ultimate weakness I broke down.
My name is Glen Blagg and I am addicted to The Boss.
I wasn’t always this way. I was young once, and innocent, and naive. I hated ‘Greetings From Asbury Park, NJ’ and ‘The Wild, The Innocent, and the E Street Shuffle’. Detested ‘Born to Run’, ‘Darkness on the Edge of Town’, and ‘The River’.
But then it hit me. Hard.
I remember still that dark Fall night. That strange haunting gravel throated music streaming from beneath the crack in my brother’s bedroom door. I can remember that feeling even now. The last of my childhood leaving my body as I stepped into that wicked soul stealing room. It was my first time...and I loved it. It was like nothing I’d heard or felt before. Or since. And I needed more.
Then along came ‘Born in the USA’. One hit after another, I just couldn’t stop.
Then ‘Tunnel of Love’ and ‘The Human Touch’. I drank them down like Evian at a Sierra Club outing.
But then came ‘The Ghost of Tom Joad’. It was then I knew I was sick. I liked the damn thing for Christ sakes. No, I loved it. And I wasn’t the only one, either. There were others, and we would meet under railroad bridges and suck up the tracks one after another.
I’d guessed it was just a matter of time before my addiction would begin affecting my life in negative ways. And it did. My wife wouldn’t step foot in my truck if I ‘was listening to that Springsteen crap’. My boss banned all but sports talk radio from the fry line at my dead end, non-living wage paying job.
I knew I had to do something. So I did. I quit. Cold turkey. No more Bruce. Ever.
Or so I thought.
We all know what happened next. That early September morning. The planes. The fire. The end of the innocense.
Oh, I was fine for awhile. Fine, until that evil Jersey devil had to go and do it again. Along came ‘The Rising’. It was like a morphine shot aimed directly at the hole left in my soul. The pain numbed, I was stuck again.
Stuck, until MoveOnPac’s Vote for Change Tour. That was just too much. Even for one as far gone as I.
“Bruce,” I swore to myself. “You’ve broke my heart for the last time.”
And I meant it. Or I thought I did. I thought I’d finally made it, finally left my habit a distant guilty memory.
But here we are, in the present. At the corner Best Buy, a copy of that damned a cappella pusher’s latest held tight in my shaking left hand and a curled up twenty in my right. My mind spinning in anticipation while at the same time cursing it’s needy weakness. Now rushing out to my Ram, ejecting Nora Jones, and slowly sliding it in.
With the first note I know I’m done. I know I will forsake my Conservative bent for one more angst dripping line.
And again, my name is Glen Blagg. I am a Libertarian. I am addicted to Bruce Springsteen.
No intervention required.

Crossposted @ The Wide Awakes