I like to think that my foot has been plenty of places, and I hope to take a few more before all the places I’ve been catch up with me and make me stop for good. But it hurts like Hell right now and I’m not going anywhere, so I’m in my office at home nodding back and forth to Robert Johnson, feathery on painkillers, staring at a shadow that has become a tiny mouse; a Christmas Eve harbinger of the wilderness and the Beautitudes.
I had more to say tonight, but I scrapped it. It was too good of a day and too comfortable of a state to hit the “Submit” button. I deleted a depressing post last Christmas, too. It might make a good tradition.
Just know that this is a terribly important song to me and it makes me happy when I’m sad. Christmas Eve is no time for frowny faces; thinking about family and friends made me too happy today; the only dogs put a paw on my foot for reassurance, some sloppy pooch smooches, and a small but welcoming snore coming from the bedroom down the hall.
pirategeorge.com 
Until today I’ve never really paid close attention to he lyrics of this song. While it may be primarily the narrative of a tortured soul being brought down by his inner demons or some such thing, I now realize that he seems to be saying that as long as he got his lady to do it with (I learned what the term “rider” is by listening to Grateful Dead lyrics), everything’s gonna be fine, or at least tolerable. There’s the strange voodoo ceremony of the “hot foot powder” sprinkled around his door, which I’m assuming is some 1930s term for cocaine (then again, I think lots of things are about cocaine), and the evil wind rising, but it all comes back to being happy just doin’ it. Maybe that’s why this song makes you happy?
Here’s to being happy.
Merry Christmas.