Elliott Smith. Jesus, I wish he would put out something that sucks. He is too pure. Genius. I want to know that he is capable of bad musical judgement-calls. Please, come on Elliott, I love your music, I support you wholeheartedly. But my fragile little musical ego cannot handle how fucking gifted, talented, pure you are. A God. God in music. Ohhh...
We go out into the back yard and start watching this video, of Jim Morrison. He's all fucked up on whatever drugs.. (oh dear, now radiohead has set into the "I wanna be Jim Morrison" song [anyone can play guitar]) and Jim's in his molasses drawl, expounding slow wisdom on a small backyard picnic scene. All these 60's-bandmemberpeople there too (I wish it wuz the sixties... I can't help that I have cliche' dreams), and the backyard in the film is the same backyard we are sitting in to watch the film. And I am sitting exactly where Jim is/was. I'm staring at this film, totally transfixed. And everyone else wanders away. "What the hell is he talking about?"
...I woke up to Jim Morrison's voice on the radio saying "So... now there's going to be... a TRIAL.. And I'll... probably get ..a suit. A really nice suit... And.. a tie. Paisley..or uh..... not.. one of those skinny ones... I think, ..I'll get ..one of those, really wide ties..." And the DJ is snickering as he plays this sound bite... And I am feeling like a freak. And Texas radio and the big beat. And I fall back to sleep. And I can't swim in the water in the lake in the house anymore, it's no longer deep. It's not deep enough. Nothing is deep enough anymore. I wanna be Jim Morrison.
I think that pretty much sums things up right there.