Jon Carroll, as usual, makes a 600-word casual on shopping something you want to read all the way to the end:
The in-store music is suddenly familiar. An electric organ. Good Lord, that’s the long middle section of “Light My Fire.” The Lizard King is not dead; he is merely in the stomach remedies section.
It’s a crash course in context. “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.” It used to be the tortured soul of the great doomed romantic, the orgasm of death. Now it seems like, “Let’s see how many words rhyme with ‘fire. ‘ ”
Oliver Stone, back in his “I can take drugs and make movies anyway” phase, turned the story of the Doors into an epic of self-destruction. Now it’s just Lawrence Welk for daytime shoppers. I’d love to take your LSD, sir, but I need to buy a package of Bean-O.
deb said on January 9, 2004 at 7:37 pm
that was delicious. i would LOVE to see what he’d have to say after a stroll through radio shack.
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Craig said on January 9, 2004 at 9:48 pm
>”…the tortured soul of the great doomed romantic, the orgasm of death.”
You are soooo right, that Jim Morrison is the greatest poet ever.
and you know what… when I look at my little finger, I wonder… what if there are whole worlds inside each atom of my fingernail? Galaxies? Maaaaan. And… oh, wow. “I am the Lizard King, I can do anything.” That’s really… I mean… gotta maintain, I have an eight-thirty lab tomorrow… it’s… don’t bogart that, man, give it here… it’s really… heavy.
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