I’m back–tooth is better Fri. evening met friends for drinks and dinner. Sat was a trip to New Smyrna Beach http://nsbfla.com/ which I consider the classiest beach town in the whole of Florida. The shot directly above is the Old Sugar Mill http://www.volusia.org/services/community-services/parks-recreation-and-culture/parks-and-trails/park-facilities-and-locations/historical-parks/sugar-mill-ruins.stml just west of town on route 44. The main picture is taken from the 2nd floor at The Hub http://thehuboncanal.org/, on Canal Street.
Let me sleep all night in your soul kitchen
Warm my mind near your gentle stove
Turn me out and I’ll wander baby
Stumblin’ in the neon groves
Enclose me in your gentle rain
The time you ran was too insane
We’ll meet again, we’ll meet again
And she’s the lady who waits
Since her mind left school
It never hesitates
She won’t waste time
On elementary talk
- Aldous Huxley, using the term “the doors of perception” which originated with William Blake in The Marriage of Heaven and Hell. Morrison cited it in interviews as the inspiration for the name The Doors https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Jim_Morrison
I do not remember when I first heard the Doors and though I loved the Beatles (and several other groups of the years). I do know that the lyrics and often haunting melody struck deep cords within myself and many others during this time of coming of age of our very dynamic generation. While my parents could kind of live with the Beatles and many of the other less upfront groups, they like lots of people saw no redeeming social value in Jim–that poet who spoke his songs rather than sang them—with his wild ways, drug use and obviously sexual references in his lyrics.
He had started out in film-making in college and there seemed to be a deep trauma of his seeing an Indians family killed in a highway accident when he was a kid. This cropped up in some of his work on a recurring basis. He went on to meet other members of the group and went from film to music–but in reality Jim made few changes, he did not sing or play an instrument—-He wrote many of the songs but their breakthrough hit “***Light My Fire” (1967). was actually written by guitarist Robby Krieger, as were some other songs including “Love Her Madly,” “You’re Lost Little Girl” and “Touch Me” (as well as some other songs on the Soft Parade album).
***The second verse of the song, however, was written by Morrison:
The time to hesitate is through
No time to wallow in the mire
Try now we can only lose
And our love become a funeral pyre
I saw the Doors in concert in 68/69 school year in Chicago. They had no lead on group, but did the entire concert by themselves. They also did the long version of Light My Fire—but instead of playing the musical part they actually played Lady Madonna, but then I was probably one of the few who weren ‘t so stoned that they noticed the difference. This was after the infamous Miami exposure and everybody waited with baited breath to see what the mad Morrison would do, but while he gave a great performance he didn’t get out of hand. The police at Door concerts must have been torn as to whom to keep their eyes on the audience or the lead singer.
Krieger steadfastly maintained Morrison’s innocence, once saying: “They were complaining about Jim whipping it out onstage, which he didn’t do: 500 photos were entered as evidence at the trial and not one showed anything of the sort. … I think it was all very politically motivated. People were running for office, so we were a good target.” | http://ultimateclassicrock.com/44-years-ago-jim-morrison-of-the-doors-allegedly-exposes-himself-on-stage/?trackback=tsmclip
To those of us who were fans, we couldn’t care less—we were the generation that pushed disobedience in the faces of the establishment and caused civil unrest to the point of sometimes stupid means—and since then whipping it out on stage would seem less and less serious. In fact I would have loved to be at that concert so I could say yea or nay about the whipping and if he did that I was there when it happened.
For if we don’t find
The next little girl
I tell you we must die
I tell you we must die
I tell you, I tell you
I tell you we must die
We lost him in Paris where he reportedly OD’d in a bath with no one but his girlfriend present. Since then his grave has become a tourist attraction and The Florida Board of Executive Clemency voted unanimously to posthumously pardon Jim Morrison, the charismatic lead singer for The Doors, four decades after Morrison was convicted of indecent exposure and open profanity. Outgoing Florida Gov. Charlie Crist — an admitted Doors fan — proposed the official let-off for the late singer for a disputed incident during a Miami, Florida, concert. http://www.cnn.com/2010/SHOWBIZ/Music/12/09/ent.jim.morrison.pardon/
Did he die? Maybe, maybe not. This was a man with hit records and big concert takes who still lived in the same apt. as when he was playing small clubs in LA. He never even bought a car. So maybe he did just wander off tired of the BS in Florida and his lack of privacy–if he did I am sure with his drug history he’s gone now. So many of my generation never moved on—some from drugs and many from war. Maybe he saw no reason to grow old and unknown..or on the other hand he was just too tired of the notoriety. Like many of my generation he lived to the hilt like there was no tomorrow and that proved to be the truth for him and many others of the Flower Children.
And we’re on our way
No we can’t turn back
Yeah, we’re on our way
And we can’t turn back
‘Cause it’s too late
Too late, too late
Too late, too late
I’m out to make it with my midnight dream, yeah
‘Cause I’m a back door man
The men don’t know
But the little girls understand
All right, yeah
And through their strange hours
We linger alone
Bodies confused
Memories misused
As we run from the day
To a strange night of stone
Dance on fire as it intends
Music is your only friend
Until the end
Until the end
Until the end Cancel my subscription to the Resurrection
Send my credentials to the House of Detention
I got some friends inside The face in the mirror won’t stop
The girl in the window won’t drop
A feast of friends
“Alive!” she cried
Waitin’ for me
Outside! Before I sink
Into the big sleep
I want to hear
I want to hear
The scream of the butterfly