I want to move away from ALWAYS thinking about politics. Now that I don't wake up and check Associated Press to see if we are in a war started over toast or something, I want to talk about oh.. books and poetry.
I bought copies of Mary Oliver. I intend to WRITE in the margins of said books, if I can get past my fear of doing so. In college it took me a FULL semester to use the highlighter pen. Working in a library has done that.
I woke up this morning with the Doors " Summer's almost gone" in my head. I love Jim Morrison and the album "waiting for the Sun" is my favorite of theirs. This is an obscure cut from the album Which features "Love Street" "The Unknown Soldier" and "Hello I love you" Say what you will, Morrison was in fine voice for this album and this particular song, he manages sensual and wistful in the same moment. The song is somewhat sad; "When Summer's gone, where will we be?"
It's a question I often ask myself- Where will we be this time next year. They question is reserved for birthdays, or opening a 500 pack of coffee filters ( Makes me think "I have measures out my life with coffee spoons") Where will we be?
Since I have stopped fearing the daily annihilation that was the past Administration, I remain hopeful. The little earworm visit from James Douglas Morrison this morning, takes me back to my twelve year old self, listening to the music brought home by my neighbor who worked for an underground radio station and falling a bit in love with a voice and an idea. Morrison would be dead by the Summer of 1971- although there is a theory that He and Janis and Jimi are all on some island somewhere.- and we would lose our youthful exuberance far too soon. The last lines particualrly resonate, on thei cold rainy morning in January, so far away from those heady warm Summers:
Summer's almost gone
We had some good times
but they're gone
The Winter's coming on
Summer's almost gone.
Where will we be?
And where is he? NOT in the Cemetery Pere Lechaise in Paris. We all know that he was never seen dead, so he is somewhere laughing at us.
ReplyDeleteJanis Joplin. I got to see her one time in a little airport in Oakland. God us in the feathered head dress, etc. Wild. But lonely looking. A friend and I were seeing his younger sisters off on PSA back to Burbank, and she wandered over and asked if they were traveling "unescorted." She told us she would be on the same flight adn would "chaperone." Well, imagine Ray's and my nervousness. BUT the girls told us later - no cocktails, no carryings on, she kept her eye on them and chatted about "things" the whole time - I found out later she waited until she was sure they were handed off to the parents (imagine what his folks thought when they came off the plane with her for an escort!) I think she just liked being wanted and needed, even if only for an hour. She always came off as real wild an all, but lonely underneath.
Well, I have read the in school, Morrison was teased and picked on as the fat nerd. Like me. Although, alas, I didn't grow up to be a rock icon (or did I, Robyn? After all, where is he? What became of him?)
GEE! It IS sort of nice to write about normal stuff again, huh?
Music. The weather. My cats. I like it.
Tom