Virtual Pilgrim writes: Years ago, David Crosby came over to visit and I noticed he was visibility shaken. He couldn’t look me in the eye, so I asked him what was wrong. He shrugged and said, “nothing”, but I could tell he needed to get something off his chest. As I began to rub his shoulders, I could feel the tension tighter than a drum. David arched his back and winced as I drove my thumb into a pressure point inside the cusp of his shoulder blade. I sustained the pressure into the knot until the pain released him from his prison. It started with a hiccup and a whimper, then deep sobbing ensued. I said, “David, please tell me your secret. You can trust me.” He took a deep breath and said between sobs, “Almost cut my hair [sob] It happened just the other day [sob] Must be because I had a flu for Christmas and I’m not feeling up to par. [sob] It increases my paranoia.” I said, “David, the best way to fight your demon is to turn it into a song.” We hugged and shared a bong together. Afterward, he put his clothes back on and went home a new man.
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