apolla: (Smiler)
I'm both bored and really trying to avoid ironing, even though I know that doing ironing will allow me to wear my granddad's tie at some point in the future....

So I present to you, hereby and heretofore, an iTunes Shuffle Meme:


In unrelated news: if I were to remove every shred of Jim Morrison-related stuff from my life, do you think I might become a responsible and sane member of society?
apolla: (Smiler)
I'm both bored and really trying to avoid ironing, even though I know that doing ironing will allow me to wear my granddad's tie at some point in the future....

So I present to you, hereby and heretofore, an iTunes Shuffle Meme:


In unrelated news: if I were to remove every shred of Jim Morrison-related stuff from my life, do you think I might become a responsible and sane member of society?
apolla: (Percy)
Doing the Proust Questionnaire, because I can.

Clare, 5th August 2007.

What is your idea of perfect happiness?
There is no such thing, and I’m not made for anything approaching it. Great music makes me happy.

What is your greatest fear?
Mediocrity. Always mediocrity.

Which historical figure do you most identify with?
Alexander The Great, who never let anything trivial like people, nations or boundaries get in the way of a dream.

Which living person do you most admire?
Robert Plant, who sat astride the planet as a young man before being faced with awful tragedies... and came out of it as a real grown up who doesn’t give a shit what any of us thinks, who can see through the bullshit and laugh at it. And who is a stone fox.

Currently see also: Bob Dylan, Peter O’Toole

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
Listlessness, the lack of ambition and confidence that keeps me stuck in this room instead of conquering the world – the thing that separates me from Alexander The Great.

What is the trait you most deplore in others?
Bigotry and dishonesty, which technically is two things, but I find they’re not as separate as you might think. Dislike people by all means, but if you can’t find anything better than skin colour or religion or the ‘what’ of who a person is, you’re not looking hard enough.

What do you most value in your friends?
Loyalty and honesty, which is also two things, but I find the two generally come together. I require friends who are honest enough to point out my idiocy and nonsense, but who stick by me just the same.

Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
“Gag me with a spoon” used to be one of the big ones, but I find I use “for fuck’s sake” quite a lot along with variations on the word ‘scuff’.

What is your favourite journey?
Wandering through Dublin on foot when the sun is shining, stopping at the Liffey, Trinity College quad, up Grafton Street to O’Neill’s for lunch, then to see Philip and then ending in St Stephen’s Green before going to Gallagher’s Boxty House for dinner. That’s not just my favourite journey, but my idea of a great day.

What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
Modesty, which turned out not to be the same thing as humility. Be yourself, be honest and unapologetic about it.

On what occasion do you lie?
I try not to, which loses me fans, I’m sure. Generally I lie only to preserve a person’s feelings.

What do you dislike most about your appearance?
My own neglect of myself.

What is your greatest regret?
That I’ve already wasted twenty-five years observing... but more than that, I regret not really talking to my grandmother about herself and her life.

What or who is the greatest love of your life?
Rock and roll music, almost any old way you choose it. Boys and heroes come and go, crushes die and romance fizzles, but rock and roll is forever and ever.

When and where were you happiest?
In a past that wasn’t mine with people I never met that didn’t really happen.

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
Whatever it is that sent me to the outskirts of living, observing the rest of you but never quite participating fully. I like my life, but it’s not a way sane people would choose to live.

What do you consider your greatest achievement?
So far, not dying.

What is your most treasured possession?
I’m not sure, you know. Photographs of the people I love. Everything else can be replaced, more or less.

What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?

Feeling unloved. Been there, done that, got the fatalistic attitude.

Where would you like to live?
A house full of books and movies and photographs on an island in Lake Corrib, County Galway. A garden full of vegetables, chickens and maybe even a goat (called Paddy McGinty, naturally). A place where I can be alone when I need, and yet where people can come. Where I can lose myself in the rain and the dark earth.

Then again, I’d like to live in Florence for awhile.

What is your most marked characteristic?
Sarcasm, probably.

What is your greatest extravagance?
The musical instruments I buy and then don’t learn properly.

What is the quality you most like in a man?
I only require two things: greatness, and the desire to love me entirely as I already am.

Who are your favourite writers?
Harper Lee, who blew the back of my head off with To Kill A Mockingbird, WB Yeats who makes my heart ache and soar at the same time. Also Philip Lynott, who could turn a phrase like no other person alive, whose bardic, romantic nature never got truly crushed by heavy metal.

Who is your favourite hero of fiction?
Atticus Finch and Robin Hood.

Who are your heroes in real life?
Jim Morrison and Errol Flynn, who lived their lives as they chose and without apology. Philip Lynott, who tried to do the same. Ava Gardner, who made being the most beautiful woman to ever live the least of her great qualities. Robert F Kennedy, who could’ve changed the world. Also John Lennon and George Harrison.

What is your motto?
Honour and Honesty. Everything else comes from these things.

Vanity Fair: The Proust Questionnaire

Clare, 5th August 2007.

What is your idea of perfect happiness?
There is no such thing, and I’m not made for anything approaching it. Great music makes me happy.

What is your greatest fear?
Mediocrity. Always mediocrity.

Which historical figure do you most identify with?
Alexander The Great, who never let anything trivial like people, nations or boundaries get in the way of a dream.

Which living person do you most admire?
Robert Plant, who sat astride the planet as a young man before being faced with awful tragedies... and came out of it as a real grown up who doesn’t give a shit what any of us thinks, who can see through the bullshit and laugh at it. And who is a stone fox.

Currently see also: Bob Dylan, Peter O’Toole

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
Listlessness, the lack of ambition and confidence that keeps me stuck in this room instead of conquering the world – the thing that separates me from Alexander The Great.

What is the trait you most deplore in others?
Bigotry and dishonesty, which technically is two things, but I find they’re not as separate as you might think. Dislike people by all means, but if you can’t find anything better than skin colour or religion or the ‘what’ of who a person is, you’re not looking hard enough.

What do you most value in your friends?
Loyalty and honesty, which is also two things, but I find the two generally come together. I require friends who are honest enough to point out my idiocy and nonsense, but who stick by me just the same.

Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
“Gag me with a spoon” used to be one of the big ones, but I find I use “for fuck’s sake” quite a lot along with variations on the word ‘scuff’.

What is your favourite journey?
Wandering through Dublin on foot when the sun is shining, stopping at the Liffey, Trinity College quad, up Grafton Street to O’Neill’s for lunch, then to see Philip and then ending in St Stephen’s Green before going to Gallagher’s Boxty House for dinner. That’s not just my favourite journey, but my idea of a great day.

What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
Modesty, which turned out not to be the same thing as humility. Be yourself, be honest and unapologetic about it.

On what occasion do you lie?
I try not to, which loses me fans, I’m sure. Generally I lie only to preserve a person’s feelings.

What do you dislike most about your appearance?
My own neglect of myself.

What is your greatest regret?
That I’ve already wasted twenty-five years observing... but more than that, I regret not really talking to my grandmother about herself and her life.

What or who is the greatest love of your life?
Rock and roll music, almost any old way you choose it. Boys and heroes come and go, crushes die and romance fizzles, but rock and roll is forever and ever.

When and where were you happiest?
In a past that wasn’t mine with people I never met that didn’t really happen.

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
Whatever it is that sent me to the outskirts of living, observing the rest of you but never quite participating fully. I like my life, but it’s not a way sane people would choose to live.

What do you consider your greatest achievement?
So far, not dying.

What is your most treasured possession?
I’m not sure, you know. Photographs of the people I love. Everything else can be replaced, more or less.

What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?

Feeling unloved. Been there, done that, got the fatalistic attitude.

Where would you like to live?
A house full of books and movies and photographs on an island in Lake Corrib, County Galway. A garden full of vegetables, chickens and maybe even a goat (called Paddy McGinty, naturally). A place where I can be alone when I need, and yet where people can come. Where I can lose myself in the rain and the dark earth.

Then again, I’d like to live in Florence for awhile.

What is your most marked characteristic?
Sarcasm, probably.

What is your greatest extravagance?
The musical instruments I buy and then don’t learn properly.

What is the quality you most like in a man?
I only require two things: greatness, and the desire to love me entirely as I already am.

Who are your favourite writers?
Harper Lee, who blew the back of my head off with To Kill A Mockingbird, WB Yeats who makes my heart ache and soar at the same time. Also Philip Lynott, who could turn a phrase like no other person alive, whose bardic, romantic nature never got truly crushed by heavy metal.

Who is your favourite hero of fiction?
Atticus Finch and Robin Hood.

Who are your heroes in real life?
Jim Morrison and Errol Flynn, who lived their lives as they chose and without apology. Philip Lynott, who tried to do the same. Ava Gardner, who made being the most beautiful woman to ever live the least of her great qualities. Robert F Kennedy, who could’ve changed the world. Also John Lennon and George Harrison.

What is your motto?
Honour and Honesty. Everything else comes from these things.

apolla: (Percy)
Doing the Proust Questionnaire, because I can.

Clare, 5th August 2007.

What is your idea of perfect happiness?
There is no such thing, and I’m not made for anything approaching it. Great music makes me happy.

What is your greatest fear?
Mediocrity. Always mediocrity.

Which historical figure do you most identify with?
Alexander The Great, who never let anything trivial like people, nations or boundaries get in the way of a dream.

Which living person do you most admire?
Robert Plant, who sat astride the planet as a young man before being faced with awful tragedies... and came out of it as a real grown up who doesn’t give a shit what any of us thinks, who can see through the bullshit and laugh at it. And who is a stone fox.

Currently see also: Bob Dylan, Peter O’Toole

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
Listlessness, the lack of ambition and confidence that keeps me stuck in this room instead of conquering the world – the thing that separates me from Alexander The Great.

What is the trait you most deplore in others?
Bigotry and dishonesty, which technically is two things, but I find they’re not as separate as you might think. Dislike people by all means, but if you can’t find anything better than skin colour or religion or the ‘what’ of who a person is, you’re not looking hard enough.

What do you most value in your friends?
Loyalty and honesty, which is also two things, but I find the two generally come together. I require friends who are honest enough to point out my idiocy and nonsense, but who stick by me just the same.

Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
“Gag me with a spoon” used to be one of the big ones, but I find I use “for fuck’s sake” quite a lot along with variations on the word ‘scuff’.

What is your favourite journey?
Wandering through Dublin on foot when the sun is shining, stopping at the Liffey, Trinity College quad, up Grafton Street to O’Neill’s for lunch, then to see Philip and then ending in St Stephen’s Green before going to Gallagher’s Boxty House for dinner. That’s not just my favourite journey, but my idea of a great day.

What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
Modesty, which turned out not to be the same thing as humility. Be yourself, be honest and unapologetic about it.

On what occasion do you lie?
I try not to, which loses me fans, I’m sure. Generally I lie only to preserve a person’s feelings.

What do you dislike most about your appearance?
My own neglect of myself.

What is your greatest regret?
That I’ve already wasted twenty-five years observing... but more than that, I regret not really talking to my grandmother about herself and her life.

What or who is the greatest love of your life?
Rock and roll music, almost any old way you choose it. Boys and heroes come and go, crushes die and romance fizzles, but rock and roll is forever and ever.

When and where were you happiest?
In a past that wasn’t mine with people I never met that didn’t really happen.

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
Whatever it is that sent me to the outskirts of living, observing the rest of you but never quite participating fully. I like my life, but it’s not a way sane people would choose to live.

What do you consider your greatest achievement?
So far, not dying.

What is your most treasured possession?
I’m not sure, you know. Photographs of the people I love. Everything else can be replaced, more or less.

What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?

Feeling unloved. Been there, done that, got the fatalistic attitude.

Where would you like to live?
A house full of books and movies and photographs on an island in Lake Corrib, County Galway. A garden full of vegetables, chickens and maybe even a goat (called Paddy McGinty, naturally). A place where I can be alone when I need, and yet where people can come. Where I can lose myself in the rain and the dark earth.

Then again, I’d like to live in Florence for awhile.

What is your most marked characteristic?
Sarcasm, probably.

What is your greatest extravagance?
The musical instruments I buy and then don’t learn properly.

What is the quality you most like in a man?
I only require two things: greatness, and the desire to love me entirely as I already am.

Who are your favourite writers?
Harper Lee, who blew the back of my head off with To Kill A Mockingbird, WB Yeats who makes my heart ache and soar at the same time. Also Philip Lynott, who could turn a phrase like no other person alive, whose bardic, romantic nature never got truly crushed by heavy metal.

Who is your favourite hero of fiction?
Atticus Finch and Robin Hood.

Who are your heroes in real life?
Jim Morrison and Errol Flynn, who lived their lives as they chose and without apology. Philip Lynott, who tried to do the same. Ava Gardner, who made being the most beautiful woman to ever live the least of her great qualities. Robert F Kennedy, who could’ve changed the world. Also John Lennon and George Harrison.

What is your motto?
Honour and Honesty. Everything else comes from these things.

Vanity Fair: The Proust Questionnaire

Clare, 5th August 2007.

What is your idea of perfect happiness?
There is no such thing, and I’m not made for anything approaching it. Great music makes me happy.

What is your greatest fear?
Mediocrity. Always mediocrity.

Which historical figure do you most identify with?
Alexander The Great, who never let anything trivial like people, nations or boundaries get in the way of a dream.

Which living person do you most admire?
Robert Plant, who sat astride the planet as a young man before being faced with awful tragedies... and came out of it as a real grown up who doesn’t give a shit what any of us thinks, who can see through the bullshit and laugh at it. And who is a stone fox.

Currently see also: Bob Dylan, Peter O’Toole

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
Listlessness, the lack of ambition and confidence that keeps me stuck in this room instead of conquering the world – the thing that separates me from Alexander The Great.

What is the trait you most deplore in others?
Bigotry and dishonesty, which technically is two things, but I find they’re not as separate as you might think. Dislike people by all means, but if you can’t find anything better than skin colour or religion or the ‘what’ of who a person is, you’re not looking hard enough.

What do you most value in your friends?
Loyalty and honesty, which is also two things, but I find the two generally come together. I require friends who are honest enough to point out my idiocy and nonsense, but who stick by me just the same.

Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
“Gag me with a spoon” used to be one of the big ones, but I find I use “for fuck’s sake” quite a lot along with variations on the word ‘scuff’.

What is your favourite journey?
Wandering through Dublin on foot when the sun is shining, stopping at the Liffey, Trinity College quad, up Grafton Street to O’Neill’s for lunch, then to see Philip and then ending in St Stephen’s Green before going to Gallagher’s Boxty House for dinner. That’s not just my favourite journey, but my idea of a great day.

What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
Modesty, which turned out not to be the same thing as humility. Be yourself, be honest and unapologetic about it.

On what occasion do you lie?
I try not to, which loses me fans, I’m sure. Generally I lie only to preserve a person’s feelings.

What do you dislike most about your appearance?
My own neglect of myself.

What is your greatest regret?
That I’ve already wasted twenty-five years observing... but more than that, I regret not really talking to my grandmother about herself and her life.

What or who is the greatest love of your life?
Rock and roll music, almost any old way you choose it. Boys and heroes come and go, crushes die and romance fizzles, but rock and roll is forever and ever.

When and where were you happiest?
In a past that wasn’t mine with people I never met that didn’t really happen.

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
Whatever it is that sent me to the outskirts of living, observing the rest of you but never quite participating fully. I like my life, but it’s not a way sane people would choose to live.

What do you consider your greatest achievement?
So far, not dying.

What is your most treasured possession?
I’m not sure, you know. Photographs of the people I love. Everything else can be replaced, more or less.

What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?

Feeling unloved. Been there, done that, got the fatalistic attitude.

Where would you like to live?
A house full of books and movies and photographs on an island in Lake Corrib, County Galway. A garden full of vegetables, chickens and maybe even a goat (called Paddy McGinty, naturally). A place where I can be alone when I need, and yet where people can come. Where I can lose myself in the rain and the dark earth.

Then again, I’d like to live in Florence for awhile.

What is your most marked characteristic?
Sarcasm, probably.

What is your greatest extravagance?
The musical instruments I buy and then don’t learn properly.

What is the quality you most like in a man?
I only require two things: greatness, and the desire to love me entirely as I already am.

Who are your favourite writers?
Harper Lee, who blew the back of my head off with To Kill A Mockingbird, WB Yeats who makes my heart ache and soar at the same time. Also Philip Lynott, who could turn a phrase like no other person alive, whose bardic, romantic nature never got truly crushed by heavy metal.

Who is your favourite hero of fiction?
Atticus Finch and Robin Hood.

Who are your heroes in real life?
Jim Morrison and Errol Flynn, who lived their lives as they chose and without apology. Philip Lynott, who tried to do the same. Ava Gardner, who made being the most beautiful woman to ever live the least of her great qualities. Robert F Kennedy, who could’ve changed the world. Also John Lennon and George Harrison.

What is your motto?
Honour and Honesty. Everything else comes from these things.

apolla: (Default)
First things first:

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next 4-7 sentences on your LJ along with these instructions.
5. Don't you dare dig for that "cool" or "intellectual" book in your closet! I know you were thinking about it! Just pick up whatever is closest (unless it's too troublesome to reach and is really heavy. Then go back to step 1).
My books are all over the place at the moment due to decoration, so I went to them and held a hand out for the nearest. I ended up picking up two:

From The Celtic Book Of Living And Dying:

"One day, the bards of Ireland realized that they had forgotten the Tain Bo Cuailgne, the poem about the great cattle raid which pitted the men of Ulster against the men of Connacht. The saints of Ireland join with the poets to ask for God's help. So he revived one of the ancient heroes, who one last time recited the adventures of the men of Ulster, the fight betwen two magic bulls, the deeds of Cuhulainn and the wiles of Queen Maeve of Connacht."

From Philip Lynott, which is a collection of Philo's lyrics and poems and doesn't go as far as page 123:

"Don't believe me if I tell you
Not a word of this is true
Don't believe me if I tell you
Especially if I tell you that
I'm in love with you.

Don't believe me if I tell you
That I wrote this song for you
There might be some other, silly pretty girl
I'm singing it too [sic]

Don't believe a word
For words are only spoken
Your heart is like a promise
Made to be broken

Don't believe a word
Words can tell lies
And lies are no comfort
When there's tears in your eyes.

Don't believe me if I tell you
Not a word of this is true
Don't believe me if I tell you
Especially if I tell you
I'm in love with you."

and just because I can, from 'Fighting My Way Back':

"I'm tough, rough, ready and able
To pick myself up from under this table
Don't stick no sign on me
I got no label
I'm a little sick, unsure, unsound and unstable
But I'm fighting my way back

I'm busting out and I'm going in
Im' kickin up about the state I'm in
Looking to my future, not my pas
I want to be a good boy but how long can it last
Fighting my way back

This kid is going to wreck and ruin
I'm not quite sure of what I'm doing, you see
It all happened a little too soon
But it's all here in this here tune
Fighting my way back"

This surely proves that lying to oneself is a far great, deadlier crime than lying to everyone else. If only.... never mind.

Other Items of Disinterest:

The Doors are on the cover of Classic Rock this month. Last time the Old Bastard graced a magazine cover, the stupid fools at the magazine had used a black and white photo and added blue eyes for effect. Which is perfectly fine, but for one minor detail:

His eyes were brown.

I haven't read the entire article (OMG new interviews with Manzarek, Krieger, Densmore and Botnick, they say!) but I anticipate it being much the same as ever- Father Ray bigs up the Morrison Legend while trying to appear like he isn't, Krieger just doesn't disagree and Drummer John is rather more scathing about the whole thing. In fact, so far, the word 'normal' has been invoked so many times that clearly the current Doors trend is to Paint Jim, Normal.

Please. The man was normal like I'm normal. Which is you know, not all that much, but still more normal than people assumed. He was an chronically shy alcoholic and taker of many drugs (quantity and variety both). He was actually a total Cuddly Uncle Ned's Trio at his worst and a genius at his best. I wish they'd stop trying to analyse him, as if working out the root of Jimmy's problems is what would bring him back.

Nothing brings him back. If dreams could do it, if wishes could do it, if shouting, screaming and sobbing could do it, I'd be drinking tea with the Old Bastard about, oh say, now-ish.

There's nothing to be done. Nothing, that is, that doesn't involve high-level witchcraft, satanism or heavenly bribery. So let's stop trying to understand that which cannot be understood. I have learned one thing more than anything else in my study: The more you learn about Jim Morrison, the more you realise you don't know him at all.

*
Snoreworthy decorating stuff:

I now have carpet in the front room. In fact, both the front room and the bedroom are painted, they're newly carpeted and shiny white Venetian blinds are coming to be fitted very soon.

Very soon, it'll all be sorted out, and it will seem as if Granddad was never here. The chair will go soon, to Uncle Fred who needs a funky electric chair far more than me. A new sofa will come along, then my desk will come in and I'll get a chair for that. I'll get a new wardrobe and stuff....

And it'll be as if Granddad was never here. My dad even broke something off the mirror when he was moving it, so he wants me to chuck that out (regardless of whether it can be fixed, I haven't looked yet). That mirror's been in the hallway as long as I can remember through the course of my life. This morning I stared right at the wall to see if I'd brushed my hair. It took me much longer than it should've done to realise it was wall, not myself.

I don't have to be told that this place was in desperately dire need of redecorating - I'm the one that's been living here for nearly two years. I don't have to be told that this is my home now, because I've been here on my own since February. But see the thing is, I have no particular desire to erase everything from the place that was his. See, I like old things, everyone knows this, so why am I being told to 'go modern' and all that nonsense?

This place isn't really Clare's, it's Granddad's, you see. It's been Granddad's for twenty-five years, and five months does not change that. Another twenty-five years might not change that. Perhaps the new paint and the new stuff don't really make a difference at all, but one of these days I'm going to look around, and it won't bear any resemblance to the place he knew, or I knew.
apolla: (Default)
First things first:

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next 4-7 sentences on your LJ along with these instructions.
5. Don't you dare dig for that "cool" or "intellectual" book in your closet! I know you were thinking about it! Just pick up whatever is closest (unless it's too troublesome to reach and is really heavy. Then go back to step 1).
My books are all over the place at the moment due to decoration, so I went to them and held a hand out for the nearest. I ended up picking up two:

From The Celtic Book Of Living And Dying:

"One day, the bards of Ireland realized that they had forgotten the Tain Bo Cuailgne, the poem about the great cattle raid which pitted the men of Ulster against the men of Connacht. The saints of Ireland join with the poets to ask for God's help. So he revived one of the ancient heroes, who one last time recited the adventures of the men of Ulster, the fight betwen two magic bulls, the deeds of Cuhulainn and the wiles of Queen Maeve of Connacht."

From Philip Lynott, which is a collection of Philo's lyrics and poems and doesn't go as far as page 123:

"Don't believe me if I tell you
Not a word of this is true
Don't believe me if I tell you
Especially if I tell you that
I'm in love with you.

Don't believe me if I tell you
That I wrote this song for you
There might be some other, silly pretty girl
I'm singing it too [sic]

Don't believe a word
For words are only spoken
Your heart is like a promise
Made to be broken

Don't believe a word
Words can tell lies
And lies are no comfort
When there's tears in your eyes.

Don't believe me if I tell you
Not a word of this is true
Don't believe me if I tell you
Especially if I tell you
I'm in love with you."

and just because I can, from 'Fighting My Way Back':

"I'm tough, rough, ready and able
To pick myself up from under this table
Don't stick no sign on me
I got no label
I'm a little sick, unsure, unsound and unstable
But I'm fighting my way back

I'm busting out and I'm going in
Im' kickin up about the state I'm in
Looking to my future, not my pas
I want to be a good boy but how long can it last
Fighting my way back

This kid is going to wreck and ruin
I'm not quite sure of what I'm doing, you see
It all happened a little too soon
But it's all here in this here tune
Fighting my way back"

This surely proves that lying to oneself is a far great, deadlier crime than lying to everyone else. If only.... never mind.

Other Items of Disinterest:

The Doors are on the cover of Classic Rock this month. Last time the Old Bastard graced a magazine cover, the stupid fools at the magazine had used a black and white photo and added blue eyes for effect. Which is perfectly fine, but for one minor detail:

His eyes were brown.

I haven't read the entire article (OMG new interviews with Manzarek, Krieger, Densmore and Botnick, they say!) but I anticipate it being much the same as ever- Father Ray bigs up the Morrison Legend while trying to appear like he isn't, Krieger just doesn't disagree and Drummer John is rather more scathing about the whole thing. In fact, so far, the word 'normal' has been invoked so many times that clearly the current Doors trend is to Paint Jim, Normal.

Please. The man was normal like I'm normal. Which is you know, not all that much, but still more normal than people assumed. He was an chronically shy alcoholic and taker of many drugs (quantity and variety both). He was actually a total Cuddly Uncle Ned's Trio at his worst and a genius at his best. I wish they'd stop trying to analyse him, as if working out the root of Jimmy's problems is what would bring him back.

Nothing brings him back. If dreams could do it, if wishes could do it, if shouting, screaming and sobbing could do it, I'd be drinking tea with the Old Bastard about, oh say, now-ish.

There's nothing to be done. Nothing, that is, that doesn't involve high-level witchcraft, satanism or heavenly bribery. So let's stop trying to understand that which cannot be understood. I have learned one thing more than anything else in my study: The more you learn about Jim Morrison, the more you realise you don't know him at all.

*
Snoreworthy decorating stuff:

I now have carpet in the front room. In fact, both the front room and the bedroom are painted, they're newly carpeted and shiny white Venetian blinds are coming to be fitted very soon.

Very soon, it'll all be sorted out, and it will seem as if Granddad was never here. The chair will go soon, to Uncle Fred who needs a funky electric chair far more than me. A new sofa will come along, then my desk will come in and I'll get a chair for that. I'll get a new wardrobe and stuff....

And it'll be as if Granddad was never here. My dad even broke something off the mirror when he was moving it, so he wants me to chuck that out (regardless of whether it can be fixed, I haven't looked yet). That mirror's been in the hallway as long as I can remember through the course of my life. This morning I stared right at the wall to see if I'd brushed my hair. It took me much longer than it should've done to realise it was wall, not myself.

I don't have to be told that this place was in desperately dire need of redecorating - I'm the one that's been living here for nearly two years. I don't have to be told that this is my home now, because I've been here on my own since February. But see the thing is, I have no particular desire to erase everything from the place that was his. See, I like old things, everyone knows this, so why am I being told to 'go modern' and all that nonsense?

This place isn't really Clare's, it's Granddad's, you see. It's been Granddad's for twenty-five years, and five months does not change that. Another twenty-five years might not change that. Perhaps the new paint and the new stuff don't really make a difference at all, but one of these days I'm going to look around, and it won't bear any resemblance to the place he knew, or I knew.
apolla: (Queen Maeve)

Seriously, the latest Snap Cup is up with [livejournal.com profile] ceilidh and it's going really well. Why not stop by and tell me how fabulous I am, then find your other pals and do the same for them?

And OMG! The Errol Flynn Signature Collection was released today on DVD! SIX WHOLE DVDS OF GLORY!

Six Errol Flynn movies!!!

Star Wars what?

apolla: (Queen Maeve)

Seriously, the latest Snap Cup is up with [livejournal.com profile] ceilidh and it's going really well. Why not stop by and tell me how fabulous I am, then find your other pals and do the same for them?

And OMG! The Errol Flynn Signature Collection was released today on DVD! SIX WHOLE DVDS OF GLORY!

Six Errol Flynn movies!!!

Star Wars what?

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apolla: (Default)
apolla

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