The Magic 27
Tuesday, 24 March 2009 20:28![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
apollaI'm twenty-seven years old tomorrow. In twelve hours, actually, if you go by birth time. It's not a big deal for most people but...
Twenty-seven... do you know how many important people in my world died at twenty-seven? Hendrix, man. That Joplin girl, although she's never been my thing. Brian 'The Bastard' Jones. Kurt. Robert 'Devil at the Crossroads' Johnson. There are more - wiki for 27 Club.
And then there is the man it always comes back to. The adored Jim.
I haven't spoken about him here for awhile, although maybe I have and it just doesn't feel like it. It was ten years ago or thereabouts that I really discovered what it was he meant to me and would come to mean to me, and I'm about to outlive the weak-willed bastard. I have loved him for such a long old time that I only remember how it is not to love him in theory. I know there was a time that I didn't love him, but I don't feel it.
I don't want to outlive Jim, I really don't... but to achieve even a sliver of what he did, I will have to. I'm not on the same special fasttrack as him. To outlive my great hero, to surpass him even only chronologically, feels so wrong. I can argue of course, that as he'd be sixty-five if he'd bothered to live, I still haven't caught up. I'm STILL playing catch-up, still! I still feel this ridiculous tugging towards that undeserving old bastard... and reaching 27 hasn't changed that.
*
I'm actually healthier now than ever before. I keep relatively fit by going to the work gym (sometimes i even manage to go twice a week!) and I don't eat even a fraction of the rubbish I used to. Crisps are gone. Most chocolate is gone. Cookies during work remain a vice, because Sainsbury's cookies are such manna from heaven. I don't drink Coke anymore, diet or otherwise, though my dependence on tonic water is worrying it's nothing in comparison to the bad, bad old days.
I don't get much more sleep than I used to, but at least now I think "Ah, half twelve, I should think about sleep" rather than "Ah, half three." Maybe I'm just on my way to the middle like everyone else, I don't know.
I don't have to battle the demon drink like I might once have done, although I'm drinking Marsala right now. I've fought and partly-won against my own lesser demons. I don't pretend to have won completely, or forever. Maybe listening to Jimmy right now is enough to send me back to the depths, or to the bottom of a bottle.
I'm not really much different to the person I was two, five, ten years ago. But that person has fought the right battles enough times to have just a little control over those lesser demons, just a little. I'm still the Unhappy Girl from Strange Days, but I know why I am and I increasingly choose it.
Ten years ago I was a rock music obsessive who watched way too many movies. My dreams are still more or less the same as they were then, but maybe at least with a couple of roots in reality. I'm the same person. I don't change.
*
Anyway, I won't outlive Jim Morrison until 20 Oct 2009. I won't have to really worry until then, right? I still hope that when I die, he'll be the one to come collect me, and I won't know whether he's from heaven or from hell. Except that it can't be heaven without him and the others...
Twenty-seven... do you know how many important people in my world died at twenty-seven? Hendrix, man. That Joplin girl, although she's never been my thing. Brian 'The Bastard' Jones. Kurt. Robert 'Devil at the Crossroads' Johnson. There are more - wiki for 27 Club.
And then there is the man it always comes back to. The adored Jim.
I haven't spoken about him here for awhile, although maybe I have and it just doesn't feel like it. It was ten years ago or thereabouts that I really discovered what it was he meant to me and would come to mean to me, and I'm about to outlive the weak-willed bastard. I have loved him for such a long old time that I only remember how it is not to love him in theory. I know there was a time that I didn't love him, but I don't feel it.
I don't want to outlive Jim, I really don't... but to achieve even a sliver of what he did, I will have to. I'm not on the same special fasttrack as him. To outlive my great hero, to surpass him even only chronologically, feels so wrong. I can argue of course, that as he'd be sixty-five if he'd bothered to live, I still haven't caught up. I'm STILL playing catch-up, still! I still feel this ridiculous tugging towards that undeserving old bastard... and reaching 27 hasn't changed that.
*
I'm actually healthier now than ever before. I keep relatively fit by going to the work gym (sometimes i even manage to go twice a week!) and I don't eat even a fraction of the rubbish I used to. Crisps are gone. Most chocolate is gone. Cookies during work remain a vice, because Sainsbury's cookies are such manna from heaven. I don't drink Coke anymore, diet or otherwise, though my dependence on tonic water is worrying it's nothing in comparison to the bad, bad old days.
I don't get much more sleep than I used to, but at least now I think "Ah, half twelve, I should think about sleep" rather than "Ah, half three." Maybe I'm just on my way to the middle like everyone else, I don't know.
I don't have to battle the demon drink like I might once have done, although I'm drinking Marsala right now. I've fought and partly-won against my own lesser demons. I don't pretend to have won completely, or forever. Maybe listening to Jimmy right now is enough to send me back to the depths, or to the bottom of a bottle.
I'm not really much different to the person I was two, five, ten years ago. But that person has fought the right battles enough times to have just a little control over those lesser demons, just a little. I'm still the Unhappy Girl from Strange Days, but I know why I am and I increasingly choose it.
Ten years ago I was a rock music obsessive who watched way too many movies. My dreams are still more or less the same as they were then, but maybe at least with a couple of roots in reality. I'm the same person. I don't change.
*
Anyway, I won't outlive Jim Morrison until 20 Oct 2009. I won't have to really worry until then, right? I still hope that when I die, he'll be the one to come collect me, and I won't know whether he's from heaven or from hell. Except that it can't be heaven without him and the others...
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no subject
Date: 2009-03-24 22:05 (UTC)The way I read it, Jimbo (for it was he) attempted to (or outright did) sexually assault her and she hit back with some Southern Comfort.
Thing I've learned: our Jim could be a total bastard and we have to accept that if we are to move past it.
Moreover: there are only obnoxious drunks. As the song goes: whiskey is the devil in liquid form. This I know from bitter, terrible experience.
no subject
Date: 2009-03-24 22:19 (UTC)Yeah, he wanted sex outright to the point where he grabbed her hair, she knocked him out with it. Theres also a different take on it where she taunted him and knocked him out jokingly, haha. Dunno which one to belive, the first take is the story as most know it though.
Yes, I definitely accept that, though he was human afterall. The way I know it, he was mainly that bastard when he was under the influence. Though, he was so witty and smart that in situations he would just get his way by prvoking people and making them uncomfortable, haha. He liked to test people and situations. He was a bit unsettling and even terrrible to be around in some cases, but hilarious and widely misunderstood at times.
Sorry about that, yeah i can imagine that it can become a real problem and a killer of ones spirit during alchoholism.
no subject
Date: 2009-03-24 22:22 (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-25 00:11 (UTC)Pam Courson tried to set him straight in some ways, she looked out for him. There are some loving, hilarious stories about them in 'Angels Dance and Angels Die'... it's a good read and it brought me closer to him/them. He seemed like a generally caring, thoughtful person and boyfriend in the opinions in that. It also shows their harder moments and his trails too. I found it to be a very honest read, not fairytale like too.
There's also this bit that suggests that Jim was one of the people who couldnt metabolise alchohol properly... which would explain him going crazy on people while others who drank were just 'drunk.'