Today, the 30th anniversary of the death of Jim Morrison, is truly the day the music died. I was not destined to be alive at the same time as him, but he has touched my life nonetheless.
In the lyrics to his songs, I find whimsical musings, things that make me smile when they pop into my head. I hear cacaphonous, demonic celebrations, where good and evil collide in a twisted and frenzied dance. I see the love that I have never been able to achieve, but long to.
And yet, underneath your cocksure demeanor, you were shy, just as I am. Your thoughts were always hidden, just out of reach, obscured in your compositions, your expressions.
And yet you still had the strength to rally behind others, to fight, to have the courage of your convictions.
Somehow, though, you just couldn’t manage to stay away from the bottle. The drugs. The vices that consumed you. That took you away from us in the prime of your life.
In the short time you were alive, you accomplished much, and in death you accomplished much more. Your legend lives on, in the minds of people who wish to be shocked and horrified, yet pacified and soothed. Those who wish to get everything from life need go no further than your words.
I wish I could have known you in person the way I do in my mind. You are not forgotten.
“I will not go, prefer a feast of friends to the Giant Family”-James Douglas Morrison, Poet.