The Gospel According To Jim

I’m sitting at the Hitchin’ Post in Melrose, Montana, drinking vodka with Jim Harrison, who between sips steals a scant glance at his beloved barmaid Nicole’s rear, puffs from his American Spirit and says: “Do you want to know how you can believe in God?” Smoke purls thickly from his cigarette, and in the window- parried shaft of evening light his face looks quite conjured, with his bad eye wandering opposite his working eye, one of them — I’m not sure which — attracted to some bird or small god darting just beyond my mortal perception. “Absolutely,” I say, swirling … Continue reading The Gospel According To Jim