(photo by Bob Gruen)
The doctor says that I'm going to survive, but it's going to require some time to do so. He says, "It's gonna be close," meaning recovery and death are just about tied at this point. It's neck and neck, you could say. He gave me some mild explosives which are designed to assist in the process. He believes my condition to be somehow related to angina pectoris, a sort of southern angina, an anti-ischemia of sorts. He gave me pamphlets to better understand my cursed affliction. I found them to be confusing and misleading and do not see how they apply to me. There is a drawing of a vagina in one of them, which looked pretty.
I thought it better to use my own explanation here, for the purpose of clarity.
I thought it better to use my own explanation here, for the purpose of clarity.
When my old rocker friends are talking about the worst singers in rock history they all cite Bob Dylan, Neil Young (though quite wrongfully), Mick Jagger (also wrongfully... try doing what he does), Tom Petty, Lou Reed, et al. Nobody ever mentions Joe Strummer. I love him, but he was just terrible. He was capable of almost hitting 4 notes, that's it. On such a thin pedestal does a tremendous legend rest.
I played some of my favorite obscure Clash songs for Rachel last night, the hidden gems on Sandanista! and elsewhere... She was dazzled and awed, I think. It was too much for her, she went to bed. Overpowered By Funk, I guess... Rebel Waltz, Kingston Advice, One More Time, Bankrobber, and others.
My daddy was a bankrobber
But he never hurt nobody,
He just loved to live that way
And he loved to steal your money
- Joe Strummer and Mick Jones
(Title quote presumably by Joe Strummer, so says the internet)
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