The Doors - Peace Frog
Happy Birthday, Jim Morrison.
I was, at one point in my wayward youth, the Biggest Doors Fan Ever. I have since come to terms with the fact that Jim Morrison really didn’t speak to me from the poster on my wall. You can see how I was easily swayed into believing so, though. There he was, in glorious black and white, shirtless, arms outstretched like a scarecrow martyr. His eyes followed me around the room. He used to tell me things, whisper to me in the dead of night when the only light in the room was from the red-tinted bulb that pointed towards my Morrison shrine. When Jim whispered, he said things like You cannot petition the lord with prayer!
Back then, back when I was reading No One Here Gets Out Alive and holding bong-fueled seances for Morrison, I dreamed of visiting the places where he lived, where he wrote and played, where the Doors gathered.
I finally did that in 2012. I thought I would be pretty blasé about it considering all the years that had passed and having not dropped acid since 1981. But when I saw that mural on the wall, the 14 year old girl in me smiled pretty damn hard.