Visions of Morrison

Who would have thought this clean cut young man would have turned into the Lizard King? Who would have thought he would end up flashing the audience, or not…as the case actually was, but still be threatened with jail time, and end up fleeing to Paris and his eventual bloated death in a bathtub….or the case maybe, perhaps actually dying in some Parisian version of the Whiskey A Go Go, heroin overdose and then dumped back in his hotel room tub. Long live the Lizard King! The Lizard King is dead! Long live the drunken fool….

Last night I dreamt of Jim. Absolutely my fault, I was playing LA Woman until the small hours, my monitor headphones bringing Jim in loud and clear, I might as well have called him up…”Jim…hey Jim…wanna hang out tonight?” As it was, I dreamt I was in a twisted David Lynchian night club, all red velvet, and dark wood, girls danced in cages suspended from the ceiling while men smoked hookahs and women tapped ash from joints held in long elegant cigarette holders, while Jim, chained to the stage by his ankle, at his Lizard King peak, grabbed hold of the microphone and crooned “I’ve never been so broke that I couldn’t leave toooown.” As Ray broke into an organ solo, and Jim shouted “see me change,” his face melted off his skull and he stood there, bones and leather, hair and red flaming eyes. It could have been a better night.

I’m trying to work out what to do today. I have a free day, some time to do as I please. I might walk to the Marina, I might go to the Japanese Tea Garden in Golden Gate Park. If anyone has any requests for San Franciscan places for me to go and photograph, write in the comments and I’ll see if I can get there and take a few snaps.

Meanwhile…a reminder of what became of our clean cut boy, who complained that his parents should have looked ahead so he could go to Florida U…still tied to that same damn song in 1970….poor Jim.


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