My life is pretty amazing you know. I am not bragging. I am AWED. Seriously. I am up a mountain in LA making songs, for Skygod's sake. Danny's got a fucking ton of vinyl and noise making machines and wooden things, so when we're done with these three I made previously, we shall make a BRAND NEW ONE. I love new best, always did. So Dr Saber gave me a big ol' pile of circular plastic ealier to listen at. I found this amazing Charlie Manson song and a recording of four groupies from the 60s, talking about their lives. There's this amazing quote from one, seventeen years old, about how these supposedly anti establishment types just made a new establishment, with new leaders, a new elite. New groupies. NOTHING CHANGES!
Really rotten things is, these are all super smart girls. Yet they still felt love and acceptance came in being cum receptacles for assholes. They all got beat up, mangled, and torn. They were all thrown away when the tour ended. I wonder where they are now.
I got an email off a girl I used to go to primary school with today. Way back in the day, in Llangoed, a pretty little village on Anglesey.
"Dunno if you remember me and the sisters Jones," she wrote. "I'd hope you do, as a many a long hour was whiled away at your house playing lego and such like.... those were the days. One distinct memory is when Meredydd broke your arm in Primary, you were on his shoulders swinging from the goalpost (you always were a short arse!) and you fell."
I don't remember her being involved in my youthful Lego. But I remember the goalpost. And I remember her being sweet when everyone else was mean. So big up Anna. Love to Llangoed. I could burst into tears just thinking about the place sometimes, for some good, but mainly ill. Those were the days. The horrorful, wishful, dumb failed-romantic days when I used to walk for miles to wander past Ellie's house on the weekends and got beat up every weekday.
Danny's awesome wife met Hunter at a Fear And Loathing set-party, she told me. She freaked him out, and he called her answerphone. How ace is that?
I fucking miss Hunter and I never met him. But I can't imagine I'd be up here without him.
Bravecapatin, in one of the best and most beautiful emails I ever got (which I shall take proper time to respond to in the morning) wrote: "i was wanting to write something about the uk today and all the wonderfully terrifying that are going on, i think that chaos is the only bed that man will ever lie in. you must embrace it and maybe even start to enjoy it because if not, if you think that one day everyone will walk around free and equal in empathetic harmony, you are wasting your life and everybody else's time. hunter believed that, as did nelson algren. i truly believe that and yet i fight for harmony and empathy every day; as they did. as you do. i'm not sure what kind of confused idiot that makes us."
Me neither. But I am glad I am that kind of idiot. It is a nicer life than the Other. Those freaks sob themselves to sleep every night on cancerous pillows. Their muscles creak with cysts. Their daughters loathe them, and their poor mothers die new and painful deaths every day. And their eyes - I am seeing this every day on Fox "news" panel discussions - are glazed and empty. They are dead already. The walking dead. And that is their lot, for there is nothing else. No hell, no heaven. Just one life, one life they lived dead.
It is all in the eyes, brothers and sisters. Find some eyes you can swim in. That is what it is all about. That and being up mountains making things that bring you joy.