The Doors Introduction
Since I can’t find anything else to say about music I love–and I’ve left out a LOT of really good singers and songs–I’m running on empty (thank you, Jackson Browne) and I have to stop doing this. There must be other subjects to write about. But right now I can’t think of anything.
Just knowing that I’m going to write about what The Doors meant to me, in my life, produces the beginnings of certain physical signs of excitement AND dread. Why do I dread this? Morrison is dead, has been for decades. But just thinking that and writing that makes me know I’m lying to myself. He isn’t really and totally gone.
Jim Morrison and the three others found a place for themselves, right in the middle of the stage in my theater of the subconscious. If this sounds far-fetched I can’t help it. I had a friend in those days who felt the same way as I did about them, about Morrison, and she called him her “father/brother/lover.” He took us to a place where we had never been…
So I’m scared and maybe I shouldn’t do this. Go back to writing about mountains and owls and DH Lawrence.
But what I will do and I knew all the time I would do–is listen to some of their music, gather some facts, and write down what happens.
lgmwriting 