Post by TheWallsScreamedPoetry on Mar 5, 2010 13:59:28 GMT
A Tribute In Motion: A Poetry Tribute To Jim Morrison 4
Beat Diary by Darryl Read
The celebrations in Paris (July 3rd) for Jim Morrison this year; were wild as usual. It was a busy time for me - having gone to London from Germany to sign a record deal, and do an interview for a film Phil Strongman: who is putting together a piece together in homage to the late Dave Goodman. I then went on to Paris - round-route back on to Germany. On these trips; I found myself doin' a Jack Kerouac and forced - due to timings, to travel 'on the road' with coaches. The fist all-nighter from Hannover to London, was a big drag, resulting in practically the whole bus near-lynching the two German bus crew, who insisted on treating us all like prisoners, on our way to jail. The pot boiled when we were approaching London, and after several attempts from passengers to get the assholes to open up the coaches toilet; the multi raced travellers - including myself - took an almost rioting stance on our approach to Victoria, London, but the loudmouthed crew insisted that it was closed - permanently! and were generally looking for trouble; and what could we do with our bags locked in a holdall under
the bus!
I tore around London over the next two days doing lots of Biz, and hopped out of bed on July the 2nd to rush for the next coach going via Dover to Paris; only on this coach the British crew were cool, and I reached Paris in good shape for the celebrations. Straight off the bus and into La Renaissance bar nr Pere-Lachaise cemetery; I was greeted by Doors fans and my friend Jochen Maassen, Claire Stenning and Alex Patton from the Doors4scorpywag site.
I got dug into an immediate book signing of SET and Stardom Road.
The scene - in the now well accustomed - to the behaviour of Doors fans, bar - was jumping, and at midnight I was still signing books. Boris (The Spider), Jochen and mines friend and kind of security cat; was well gone on the 'ol hooch, and we found ourselves helping him to keep upright - inside the intense heat-wave and constant flow of alcohol.
But Doors celebrations are like that - a combination of losing yourself in their music and celebrating a great dead poet - so; I have come to expect a certain amount of 'getting-out-of-it'
I slumbered down late in preparation for the next days book signing - and Jims homage of July the 3rd. Music blasted at full volume from the La Renaissance speakers, and I hung with Alex, Jochen, Claire and Iain - surprised at the amount of copies of Stardom Road that were going - as it's a heavy hardcover and not lightweight to drag around. By 7:pm, I needed a break and shot back down to my hotel - the Hotel Royal Bastille in Rue De La Roquette - which I always go to - as they seem aquatinted by my style of life whilst living there.
The old night porter Cerald; failed to inform me of guests who were to meet me at 9:pm for a visit to Jims old abode at 17 Rue Beautreillis - jerk! So I missed a young American cat called Matt and his friends, with whom, I was going there with. At 9:30pm I decided to make my way over to Rue Beautreillis - except I wasn't sure of the route - all I knew was that everyone would eventually hang at the Lizard Lounge; so I found it, and hung there awhile: thinking to myself that I always seem to be walking around back streets of cities on my own, in a melancholic manner - attached to no-one - including myself. The lounge remained empty as I gazed at the giant lizards that adorned the walls, and it flashed through my brain; that everyone must have stayed on somewhere and indulged further into the delights of the 'ol hooch. I got directions to Jimbo's old pad and found myself walking serenely down the Rue; I passed a candle-lit restaurant; with faces romantically eyeing each other, I knew Jim had gone to this gaff, and dans la instant - imagined his good and bad times there. Further down the street I passed another new looking restaurant - the patrons laughed from their outside tables as I walked by: I carried on up the street - lost in Jimbo's old footsteps, and came to the house where he and Pamela had lived in their apartment. I stared up at the flats windows, as the evening moody sun dropped down - I was doing my own homage to Jim - solo. I made my way back towards the laughing cafe - thinking that perhaps I would run inside and upturn tables and pour wine on the smirking snobs heads, they must have caught my vibe - as all was silent stares; with lips tight-shut as I deliberately walked close to their seated ogling eyes.
was back in Rue De La Roquette after a lonely moody walk back to the Bastille, where the street was jammed. I ordered a fizzy bottle of water near my Hotel, the woman gave me a hard stare - on the order; it clicked straight-off she was going to pull a number on the dough - so I said: "Con Bien!" before she had a chance to open the bottle - yeah ... I was right! - she wanted 5 Euros for the mini bottle of water - I told her to forget it; and split. Crossing to my old haunt the Chinese late-night food store; grabbed a large bottle of ice-cold Perrier water for 1 Euro 20.
I made my way back to the hotel to crash, and as fate would have it - ran into Alex, Matt, Eressie, Rick and Kat on the street; amongst more of the Doors street gang. Cool luck! - so we all settled-in outside an Irish bar and whiled away an hour - then we were joined by an English cat who leapt out of a taxi, after just being released from jail (apparently some incident at the graveyard*), and another face called Dirty Cowboy. It amazed me that English geezers and all ensemble were 'diggin into the prose - 'kinda Clockwork Orange style - only instead of Beethoven as the kicks - it was poetry! We all went our ways later, and I hung with the young English chick called Kat and the cat called Matt, at an exuberantly expensive bar; talking books and poetry. Kat was very well-read, and filled she me in on some titles, I hadn't, but should have read: I gave her a few too! Kat not being satisfied of giving me her list; suddenly pulled out Ernest Hemingway's A Moveable Feast ... and gave it to me as a gift: this was a cool item to have and read for my next anarchists late-night coach trip.
Next day (July 4th) I roused myself over midday coffee at La Renaissance, as the Doors gang of fans slowly trickled in - more books went, and Hadi the bar manager took some - before we all split and made our way over to the Shakespeare and Company book shop. Taxis wouldn't stop for us (those Doors T-shirts again) and we all got to a rank; where we practically forced our way into one: only to find that the black cat was doing a jive on not knowing where the book shop was - with the meter running and the wheels at standstill. "Fuck this!"
I said, and we all got out. Eventually we arrived late at the book shop for the reading: that is, three Taxi loads of Doors people.
I marvelled at the old antiquity of the shop, as we passed a sleeping customer on a bed with a book in his hand - apparently this is a tradition there - your allowed to sleep on the beds as long as you have a book in your hands. The small reading room was jammed-out, more than what we all expected. And I watched all the other poets do their thing - reading poems of Jims; hosted very well, by Stuart Henderson. I read one too, and a few from my SET poetry book, and did some that I had recorded with Ray on the Freshly Dug album.
I think Ray would have been 'diggin this scene with all the young Beats and poets and the decor of the old and famous shop. Out-of-the-blue; Hermine Phielix got up and read one of mine: 'A Lonely Way To Die', which is well-known amongst Doors fans who attend the Parisian do's, as I wrote the piece about a lady who died in La Renaissance, on the 3rd of July a few years back. The reading went cool, and we all filed out - into the streets and grabbed the nearest bar - and overtook it! I sat chatting with Kat, Imelda and others. Before getting Eressie (a Swedish poetess), Iain, Matt and Stuart Henderson to accompany me for a Chink meal back over at the Bastille - before I got onto another late-nighter bus back into Germany.
The miles unfolded before me as I reflected on the Paris trip - it had been cool to be back in London this time, and I saw loads of friends in-between the Biz. I am, today; as everyone is, shocked at the attack on innocent British people by these terrorist cowards. I threw my mind back into the cool poetry stuff back in Paris, and remembered Jimbo's prophetic lines he sprung-out at a concert the Doors gave in the late sixties: "I just wanna get my kicks! Before the whole shit house goes up in flames!"
Darryl Read 8th July 2005
Beat Diary by Darryl Read
The celebrations in Paris (July 3rd) for Jim Morrison this year; were wild as usual. It was a busy time for me - having gone to London from Germany to sign a record deal, and do an interview for a film Phil Strongman: who is putting together a piece together in homage to the late Dave Goodman. I then went on to Paris - round-route back on to Germany. On these trips; I found myself doin' a Jack Kerouac and forced - due to timings, to travel 'on the road' with coaches. The fist all-nighter from Hannover to London, was a big drag, resulting in practically the whole bus near-lynching the two German bus crew, who insisted on treating us all like prisoners, on our way to jail. The pot boiled when we were approaching London, and after several attempts from passengers to get the assholes to open up the coaches toilet; the multi raced travellers - including myself - took an almost rioting stance on our approach to Victoria, London, but the loudmouthed crew insisted that it was closed - permanently! and were generally looking for trouble; and what could we do with our bags locked in a holdall under
the bus!
I tore around London over the next two days doing lots of Biz, and hopped out of bed on July the 2nd to rush for the next coach going via Dover to Paris; only on this coach the British crew were cool, and I reached Paris in good shape for the celebrations. Straight off the bus and into La Renaissance bar nr Pere-Lachaise cemetery; I was greeted by Doors fans and my friend Jochen Maassen, Claire Stenning and Alex Patton from the Doors4scorpywag site.
I got dug into an immediate book signing of SET and Stardom Road.
The scene - in the now well accustomed - to the behaviour of Doors fans, bar - was jumping, and at midnight I was still signing books. Boris (The Spider), Jochen and mines friend and kind of security cat; was well gone on the 'ol hooch, and we found ourselves helping him to keep upright - inside the intense heat-wave and constant flow of alcohol.
But Doors celebrations are like that - a combination of losing yourself in their music and celebrating a great dead poet - so; I have come to expect a certain amount of 'getting-out-of-it'
I slumbered down late in preparation for the next days book signing - and Jims homage of July the 3rd. Music blasted at full volume from the La Renaissance speakers, and I hung with Alex, Jochen, Claire and Iain - surprised at the amount of copies of Stardom Road that were going - as it's a heavy hardcover and not lightweight to drag around. By 7:pm, I needed a break and shot back down to my hotel - the Hotel Royal Bastille in Rue De La Roquette - which I always go to - as they seem aquatinted by my style of life whilst living there.
The old night porter Cerald; failed to inform me of guests who were to meet me at 9:pm for a visit to Jims old abode at 17 Rue Beautreillis - jerk! So I missed a young American cat called Matt and his friends, with whom, I was going there with. At 9:30pm I decided to make my way over to Rue Beautreillis - except I wasn't sure of the route - all I knew was that everyone would eventually hang at the Lizard Lounge; so I found it, and hung there awhile: thinking to myself that I always seem to be walking around back streets of cities on my own, in a melancholic manner - attached to no-one - including myself. The lounge remained empty as I gazed at the giant lizards that adorned the walls, and it flashed through my brain; that everyone must have stayed on somewhere and indulged further into the delights of the 'ol hooch. I got directions to Jimbo's old pad and found myself walking serenely down the Rue; I passed a candle-lit restaurant; with faces romantically eyeing each other, I knew Jim had gone to this gaff, and dans la instant - imagined his good and bad times there. Further down the street I passed another new looking restaurant - the patrons laughed from their outside tables as I walked by: I carried on up the street - lost in Jimbo's old footsteps, and came to the house where he and Pamela had lived in their apartment. I stared up at the flats windows, as the evening moody sun dropped down - I was doing my own homage to Jim - solo. I made my way back towards the laughing cafe - thinking that perhaps I would run inside and upturn tables and pour wine on the smirking snobs heads, they must have caught my vibe - as all was silent stares; with lips tight-shut as I deliberately walked close to their seated ogling eyes.
was back in Rue De La Roquette after a lonely moody walk back to the Bastille, where the street was jammed. I ordered a fizzy bottle of water near my Hotel, the woman gave me a hard stare - on the order; it clicked straight-off she was going to pull a number on the dough - so I said: "Con Bien!" before she had a chance to open the bottle - yeah ... I was right! - she wanted 5 Euros for the mini bottle of water - I told her to forget it; and split. Crossing to my old haunt the Chinese late-night food store; grabbed a large bottle of ice-cold Perrier water for 1 Euro 20.
I made my way back to the hotel to crash, and as fate would have it - ran into Alex, Matt, Eressie, Rick and Kat on the street; amongst more of the Doors street gang. Cool luck! - so we all settled-in outside an Irish bar and whiled away an hour - then we were joined by an English cat who leapt out of a taxi, after just being released from jail (apparently some incident at the graveyard*), and another face called Dirty Cowboy. It amazed me that English geezers and all ensemble were 'diggin into the prose - 'kinda Clockwork Orange style - only instead of Beethoven as the kicks - it was poetry! We all went our ways later, and I hung with the young English chick called Kat and the cat called Matt, at an exuberantly expensive bar; talking books and poetry. Kat was very well-read, and filled she me in on some titles, I hadn't, but should have read: I gave her a few too! Kat not being satisfied of giving me her list; suddenly pulled out Ernest Hemingway's A Moveable Feast ... and gave it to me as a gift: this was a cool item to have and read for my next anarchists late-night coach trip.
Next day (July 4th) I roused myself over midday coffee at La Renaissance, as the Doors gang of fans slowly trickled in - more books went, and Hadi the bar manager took some - before we all split and made our way over to the Shakespeare and Company book shop. Taxis wouldn't stop for us (those Doors T-shirts again) and we all got to a rank; where we practically forced our way into one: only to find that the black cat was doing a jive on not knowing where the book shop was - with the meter running and the wheels at standstill. "Fuck this!"
I said, and we all got out. Eventually we arrived late at the book shop for the reading: that is, three Taxi loads of Doors people.
I marvelled at the old antiquity of the shop, as we passed a sleeping customer on a bed with a book in his hand - apparently this is a tradition there - your allowed to sleep on the beds as long as you have a book in your hands. The small reading room was jammed-out, more than what we all expected. And I watched all the other poets do their thing - reading poems of Jims; hosted very well, by Stuart Henderson. I read one too, and a few from my SET poetry book, and did some that I had recorded with Ray on the Freshly Dug album.
I think Ray would have been 'diggin this scene with all the young Beats and poets and the decor of the old and famous shop. Out-of-the-blue; Hermine Phielix got up and read one of mine: 'A Lonely Way To Die', which is well-known amongst Doors fans who attend the Parisian do's, as I wrote the piece about a lady who died in La Renaissance, on the 3rd of July a few years back. The reading went cool, and we all filed out - into the streets and grabbed the nearest bar - and overtook it! I sat chatting with Kat, Imelda and others. Before getting Eressie (a Swedish poetess), Iain, Matt and Stuart Henderson to accompany me for a Chink meal back over at the Bastille - before I got onto another late-nighter bus back into Germany.
The miles unfolded before me as I reflected on the Paris trip - it had been cool to be back in London this time, and I saw loads of friends in-between the Biz. I am, today; as everyone is, shocked at the attack on innocent British people by these terrorist cowards. I threw my mind back into the cool poetry stuff back in Paris, and remembered Jimbo's prophetic lines he sprung-out at a concert the Doors gave in the late sixties: "I just wanna get my kicks! Before the whole shit house goes up in flames!"
Darryl Read 8th July 2005