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Tuesday , December 14, 2010
Style Icon: Jim Morrison
"Loving Jim Morrison is a lonely life" is something I like to say sometimes, in my head. I've known many dudes who fancy themselves too smart to love the Doors, which used to make me feel so misunderstood and out of place. But then I wised up, five seconds ago, and realized that listening to Doors songs isn't supposed to be a communal experience - at least not for those of us who spend less than 13 hours a day on the Venice Boardwalk. Doors records are meant to make you feel creepy and lone-wolf-like; the song goes "People are strange, when you're a stranger," not "People are generally pretty chill and whatevs, when you're generally chill and whatevs as well." You listen to the Doors alone, in your car, in the dark - or in your room, alone, in the dark, or in the light. IT'S METAPHYSICAL MASTURBATION, or something. Dig?
The Doors are the first weird band I ever loved; Jim Morrison was my proto-Timony, in a way. Before Mary came along, Jim was my most reliable means of relating to the weirdest part of myself, that "Hey let's go to the cemetery and take black-and-white photos of decaying flowers and then write poems about the drugs we're not doing and the sex we're not having" dimension of my otherwise sunny sweet-sixteen psyche, hahaha. And by "we" I mean "me," and me alone - but don't feel bad!
(FYI my favorite Mary Timony lyric is "This busted telephone's on fire/Our love became a funeral pyre," from "14 Horses." My favorite Doors lyric is "Blood stains the roofs and the palm trees in Venice/Blood in my love in the terrible summer/Bloody red sun of fantastic L.A.," from "Peace Frog." Because Jim is L.A. and L.A. is Jim, always and forever, for me. Me, me, me!)
Also I like looking at him, Jim. Him Jim. Along with being the first weird dude I ever loved, he's also the first dude I ever recognized as sexy. I still think he's so sexy, now that I'm 32 and not nine. I think he was maybe dreadful too, but it's possible I'm just mixing him up with all those mean things Val Kilmer did to Meg Ryan in The Doors by Oliver Stone.
It's cool with me, though, if Jim truly was dreadful. Hey there sexy-dreadful man...
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