I had to laugh this morning at the lunacy of being on the human treadmill. Get up and execute the same routine day after day. I did have the thought what if I didn’t wake up this morning which made me realise that my big assumption is that I will wake up in the morning.
“Only poets and thieves can exercise free will, and most of them die young. For the rest of us, it’s back to the job. Long hours, plenty of bullshit, steady pay – then die and make room for somebody else. What else can I say?”
“Send lawyers, guns and money the revolution has begun.”
– Half Warren Zevon; half me
“Once the game is over, the King and the pawn go back in the same box.”
– Italian Proverb
I have to fight the werewolf in me tonight. There is no time for prowling the streets, half-drunk, with a bellyful of madness.
America’s Perfect Teen, Anyzha Panesar, is indeed British, Welsh to be specific. We can’t even win our own contests anymore. How the might have fallen?!
(unconditional love is beautiful and rare)
The Wind Cries Mary
(Absolutely beautiful song)
The anniversary of Jimi Hendrix’s death is coming up next Saturday (18 September), which I guess accounts for the recent surge of Jimi Hendrix articles in the music press.
Brad Schreiber’ On Becoming Jimi Hendrix has hit the shelves. I have not read a Hendrix biography to date, but David Dean’s article in ShortList has inspired me to explore the Hendrix body of knowledge. I’ll see if I can order Schreiber’s book in the next day or two.
Music wise I only have two Hendrix CD’s. My favorite Hendrix tunes can be found on the Smash Hits CD. My favorite tracks include: The Wind Cries Mary (with it’s haunting images of loneliness), Hey Joe (the dangers of messing with another man’s woman), All Along the Watchtower (whenever I listen to it I imagine it being a conversation between God and Satan), Manic Depression (haunts me with the line ‘I know what I want/but i just don’t know how to go about getting it), and Red House (which I spent the summer of ‘96 singing with a German rock band called Frank the Tank Meets Speedball).
Here’s the thing about the Hendrix story that has me transfixed. He dared to be an individual, a free-thinker who refused to accept someone else’s story as his own. The other attraction, which is mildly dark, is Hendrix’s death. He died at 28, locking himself in time as a legendary Sixties icon who will forever embody what the sixties purported to be about – sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Perhaps proving that it is indeed better to burn out than to fade away.