Friday, July 13, 2007

What would I do with myself if I was my daughter?


When I was 15 I went to San Francisco to spend time with my uncle Micheal and my aunt Amy. When I got off the plane and we got to the car, my uncle said, "Wow! You must be tired. Here have some of this." and he handed me a joint.

Thus started my 2 week trip to San Fran. I never liked pot that much actually. It opened me up too much. I lost my boundaries. I felt like people could see what I felt and that I could feel what they felt. I got confused. I wonder if anyone else has ever had that experience with pot?

When I was out there, my uncle took me to a used record store. One of the albums I purchased was Horses by Patty Smith not to be confused with Patti Smith. She is a poet and a musician (and I emphasize the poet part of the equation). She is absolutely awesome. I recently purchased the CD. She is just as relevant now as she was in 1974 when she cut the album. (She has been inducted into the Rolling Stone's top 100 artists.)

Here are some of the lyrics to her song, Land.

The boy was in the hallway drinking a glass of tea.
From the other end of the hall a rhythm was generating
Another boy was sliding up the hallway
He merged perfectly with the hallway
He merged perfectly with the mirror in the hallway

The boy looked at Johnny
Johnny wanted to run
But the movie kept movie as planned
The boy took Johnny, he pushed him in the locker
He drove it in, he drove it home, he drove it deep in Johnny
The boy disappeared, Johnny fell on his knees
Started crashing his head against the locker
Started crashing his head against the locker
Started laughing hysterically.

When
Suddenly
Johnny
He gets the feeling,
He is surrounded by Horses, Horses, Horses, Horses
Coming in in all directions
White, shining, silver studs with their nose in flames
He saw Horses, Horses, Horses, Horses, Horses, Horses, Horses, Horses, Horses.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Life is filled with holes
Johnny laying here, his sperm coffin
Angel looks down and says, "Oh pretty boy, can't you show me nothin' but surrender?"
Johnny gets up, puts on his leather Jacket
Taped to his chest, there's the answer
You got pen knives and jack knives and switch blades preferred
Switch blades preferred
Then he cries, then he screams saying
Life is full of pain, I'm cruising through my brain
And I fill my nose with snow and go Rimbaud, go Rimbaud, go Rimbaud
And go Johnny go and do the watusi, yeah do the watusi

So, this is the stuff I was listening to at the age of 15. I guess was a creepy little kid. I bought a copy of the Satanic Bible by Alasteir Crowley. I didn't want to become a Satanist, I just wanted to know what it said. I read The Feminine Mystique and The Woman's Room. I read On the Road, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's nest and Catcher in the Rye. After I read On the Road, I started experimenting with drugs because they made it sound so necessary and almost killed myself one night huffing gas.

Did all of that stuff give me ideas that I was too young to understand? Yes, since I was a mixed-up kid it probably wasn't the best thing for me to read. If I was my mother, would I let myself read these things? Listen to these things? Would you let your daughter?

Personally, I would. If she wanted to know those things, I would let her know. But she wouldn't read it alone like I did. I would read it too and talk to her about it. I don't blame my parents for not doing that with me. I was a difficult kid. Not many people would have known how to deal with me. I would know how to deal with a kid like me, but a lot of people would not. And I think I was pretty cool, warts aside.

I'm going to put in the rest of the lyrics now. I know some of those with poetic inclinations will enjoy them. but I didn't want to put them in earlier because people who are not impressed with poetry may not like to read something this long.




There's a little place, a place called space.
It's a pretty little place, it's across the tracks,
Across the tracks and the name of the place is you like it like that,
You like it like that, like it like that, like it like that
And the name of the band is
The Twistilettes, Twistilettes, Twistelettes, Twistilettes
Twistilettes, Twistilettes, Twistilettes, Twistilettes

Baby calm down, better calm down,
In the night, in the eye of the forest,
There's a mare black and shining with yellow hair,
I put my fingers through her silken hair and found a stair
I didn't waste time, I just walked right up and saw that
up there--there is a sea
up there--there is a sea

The sea's the possibility
There is no land, but the land
(up there is just a sea of possibilities)
Except for one who seizes the possibilities
(up there)
There is no keeper but the key
(up there there are several walls of possibilities)
Except for one who seizes possibilities, one who seizes possibilities
(in the heart of man)
I seize the possibility, is the sea around me
I was standing there with my legs spread like a sailor
(in the sea of possibilities) I felt his hand on my knee
(on the screen)
And I looked at Johnny and handed him a branch of cold flame
(in the heart of man)
The waves were coming in like Arabian stallions
Gradually lapping into the sea horses
He picked up the blade and he pressed it against his smooth throat
(the spoon)
And let it deep in (the veins)
dip into the sea, the sea of possibilities
It started hardening
Dip into the sea, the sea of possibilities
It started hardening in my hand
And I felt the arrows of desire

I put my hand inside his cranium, oh we had such a braniac-armour
But no more, no more, I gotta move from my mind to the area
(go Rimbaud, go Rimbaud, go Rimbaud)
And Johnny go down and do the watusi,
do the watusi
shined open coiled snake, white and shiny twirling and encircling
Our lives are now entwined, we will fall, yes we're together twining
Your nerves, your mane of black shining horses
And my fingers all entwined through the air,
And I could feel it, it was the hair going through my fingers
(I could feel it, I could feel it, I could feel it)
The hairs were like wires going through my body
I, that's how I
That's how I
I died
(at that Tower of Babel they knew what they were after)
(Everything on the current)moved up
I tried to stop it, but it was too warm, too unbelievable smooth,
Like playing in the sea, in the sea of possibility, the possibility
Was a blade, a shiny blade, I hold the key to the sea of possibilities
There's no land but the land

Looked at my hands and there's a red stream
That went streaming through the sands like fingers
Like arteries, like fingers
(how much fits between the eyes of a horse?)
He lay, pressing it against his throat, (your eyes)
His vocal cords starting shooting like (of a horse)mad pituitary glands
The scream he made (and my heart) was so high (my heart)pitched that nobody heard,
No one heard that cry
No one heard (Johnny)the butterfly flapping in his throat
(his fingers)
Nobody heard, he was on that bed, it was like a sea of jelly
And so he seized the first
(his vocal cords shot up)
(Possibility)
(like mad pituitary glands)
It was a black tube, he felt himself disintegrate
(there is nothing happening at all)
and go inside the black tube, so when he looked out into the steep
Saw this sweet young thing, fender one
Humping on the parking meter, leaning on the parking meter
In the sheets
There was a man
dancing around
to the simple
Rock and Roll
Sound

15 comments:

X. Dell said...

(1) Oh, the thoughts I have at this moment. You'd slap me if I wrote half of them.

(2) Your uncle seemed to have really good stuff if that's what it did to you. (Slap!)

(3) The goal of drug usage was to expand consciousness, to induce a new way of thinking outside of the gray flannel body and the button-down mind (forgive the 60isms). Were drugs necesary for epiphany? Probably not. Oee could receive them in other ways--endurance, trauma, group therapy, aceticism; in other words, all the other stuff tried during the 60s.

BTW, each of those entails some risk. In fact, the more you want to understand anything, the more you put yourself in harm's way. A frined of mine's brother died from inhaling gas when we were in high school. Didn't diminish our drugging one whit, though. Like took care of that all on its own.

In your case, it came with the opening of (literally) new books of alien thought. It's not that you needed to become Jack Keroac or Aleister Crowley, but they would probably be easier to understand if you'd seen or experienced some of the things they did.

(4) You ask, "What would I do with myself if I was my daughter?"

I can't answer that, obviously. I could, however, tell you what I would do were you my daughter. First of all, I'd laugh at you. Secondly, I would talk to you about your experience. I'd ask you to tell me what you saw, what you felt. I'd ask if life looks differently in some way.

I'd also tell you about my own experimentation with weird thoughts, music, experiences, etc. I wouldn't lie about what I like, nor would I sugar-coat the destructive side.

I'd tell you that it's not something that you should take slowly. Music's fine. Books are fine, although there always needs to be intellectual counterweights. The pot I don't worry about so much, but there are really dangerous drugs that didn't exist when I was a teenybopper, and alcohol has always been a reliable kilelr.

(5) I like the Mapplethorpe (first) photo of Smith the best. He really captured Smith's handsomest features, something photographers haven't really been able to do since.

eric1313 said...

I liked her celebration of freedom. It's just like my post, weird enough; the horses and freedom associated with them as a symbol. Or how the second one celebrates art and the everyday ability to loose one's self in something like Rimaud, or just rock out to the music on the radio.
--
You know? The JW's do raise some terribly polite people. I'm corse next to many of them! You are right, though, about the difficulty to be cool and different when you stand out so much. I'm not one anymore, I disagree with some of their basics, and lots of them don't like diccension, even if they try to keep it polite. I don't believe in their practice of disfellowshipping, oe basically, ex-communicating them. They will have famillies not talk to familly members over percieved or real sins. They take it too far. Or their issue over accepting blood transfusions, even at the cost of life. They are grossly misinterpreting the order not to drink human blood, which was much more relevent and pressing an issue at the time in history in which the bible was written. Nobody forsaw that life should be seen as the goal, and God would not want us to hobble our abilities to save our selves. It does say in the book that God helps those who help themselves; prayers alone are not enough.

You know me; I'll probably talk more later. Good post, BBE. I hope you have a great weekend.

Behind Blue Eyes said...

x-I was so surprised when I listened to the album again after all these years and saw what I'd been listening to when I was only 15 and I was innocent, even if I didn't think I was. I'm glad that I tried some of the drugs I tried though I would never encourage anyone else to do it. And no, I don't think they are necessary.

The more you want to understand something, the more you put yourself in harms way. My entire life has been a perfect example of that. that's why I would not discourage my daughter from reading these things etc...because I know that if you have the drive to do this, nothing can make it go away, especially parental restrictions. That's how my parents tried to handle me and it only made me want it more.

I passed out with my nose in the gas can. My mom and dad started calling me and it woke me up. Good thing I didn't try to light a cigarette. bwahaha.

I would definitely talk to a girl like me. I might even suggest some books.

I knew nothing about Patty Smith when I bought the album, the cover photo is what made me buy it.

Eric-This album is a perfect album. Oh, I'm sure some critic could go through and pick out little instances of imperfection but I don't like everything to be perfectly polished. Her poetry is set to music and the music is perfect. It's very minimalistic, you can hear each instrument seperately, when you are listening with headphones you feel like you can get a take on where they may have been standing. The poetry is great, I'm not sure if she wrote all of the songs though, I don't think so. One of them is Free Money. I know Sammy Hagar did that one later (what a letdown!)

Eric-You have a great weekend yourself. It sounds like your family must have been some of the more reasonable ones because you don't sound all 'damaged and traumatized'. And you remain close to your family. My mom goes to the Unitarian church. I guess you know what that is? You can believe whatever you want? You could be Wiccan, Jewish, Muslim...whatever. That's probably the only kind of church I could ever handle. But I think that churches were invented by man therefore imperfect.

I checked out your blog last night and did not comment. I will go back and comment sometime this weekend.

Dr.Alistair said...

once you trip out you can never trip back in again.

your head is too big.

for suburbia.

or anywhere else for that matter.

but it doesn`t.

just know there are others to relate to.

terence mckenna.

robert anton wilson.

all of us poets and musicians and mystics who have seen something else other than wal-mart and cnn and concrete and asphalt stretching on for miles like they are the only thing.

Princess Banter said...

I would've wanted to be your friend when you were a kid ;) Your curiousity was endless and your quest to fulfill them were even more marvelous. We all find ways to live life... and most of them are unique. I have always wanted to know what the Satanic Bible said as well but customs and traditions bound me. My curiousity was still massive but greatly impounded.

eric1313 said...

Hope your weekend was grand and you found some time for yourself and your daughter. I've been writing, so it was like average for me. See you soon, friend.

Anonymous said...

Hmm, I like to smoke every now and then. My experience with it has been mostly positive. Made me sick a few times when I'd been drinking as well, though. I don't think I would mind if I had kids that smoked it.

Horses is a pretty good album. Creepy kid? I think it was my G/F at age 16 who introduced me to Patty Smith, and I didn't think she was creepy.

Satanic Bible I thought was pretty lame, self-centered I guess - didn't buy it just read some of it online. Never read The Feminine Mystique or The Woman's Room. Feminist books right? That explains that.

On the Road is overrated I think, but I don't think it really glorifys drugs so much.

One Flew Over the Cuckoo's nest and Catcher in the Rye are good books. I would encourage my kids to read them. I think that Salinger is a good writer, and I would want my kids to read his other stories too, especially Franny and Zooey. However the message of Catcher in the Rye, I think, is often confused. So maybe I would want to talk with my kids about it.

Anonymous said...

I said "I think" far too many times.

Behind Blue Eyes said...

Dr.-Thanks for dropping by. Sorry it took me so long to respond, I havent's been on my computer this weekend.
I liked your comment. Your absolutely right. Once you see, you can't unsee again.

Princess Banter-That's one thing that I can say for my mom is that she didn't prohibit me in anyway from wanting to know whatever I wanted. However, I wish that I would have recieved a little guidance of some kind, but I think that they just didn't understand me.

Trevor-You know, I didn't really like On The Road that much either, but I read it way back in highschool. So, maybe I'm not remembering it exactly correctly. But I do know that a lot of the things that I read made me very curious about experimenting with drugs.

There is a lot of difference between my generation and your generation. We were raised by much more conservative parents, my mom encouraged reading and stuff, but she was still conservative in lots of ways. And I lived in a very small town. So, they all thought I was creepy. I think they were creepy. Oh, and if you look back on the previous entry to this one, I finally did another Tragedy chapter.

Eric-I did have a nice weekend thank you. Hope you did as well.

Chris Benjamin said...

great lyrics.

i read 1984 when i was 12, which probably explains the paranoia.

eric1313 said...

BBE
Be-be well, my friend!

Behind Blue Eyes said...

Benji-1984 was a creepy book. I read it when I was 15 and I have never forgotten it. I especially have always remembered the part about them dumbing down language because if you didn't have subtlteys of language, you couldn't have subtleties of thought.

ERic-Thanks friend. I'm trying to get some stuff done so I haven't been around much.

eric1313 said...

LOL
stop it, bbe.
You are too funny.

eric1313 said...

Hope everything's cool, BBE

Thanks for the ribbing,
I feel even more welcome in a strange way.

I hope that's welcome I feel, anyway. I've been wrong about things before.

Behind Blue Eyes said...

I'm not sure what your talking about. Did I say something wrong? If I did, I didn't mean to. Are you talking about what I said on your blog? Well anyway, don't worry.

I've gotten upset before too because I thought that people were mad at me. It's hard to have converstaions through the computer sometimes. You can't see peoples faces, hear the inflections of their voice, see their body language so misunderstandings occur easily.