Friday, August 5, 2011

My Room

I came up here to my writing room (that's how I think of it) with absolutely nothing on my mind. Or maybe too much on my mind. Some times I confuse the two. I hate it when I feel that way because I am a passionate man and I like to write passionately. I don't like to force it.
I am feeling a little spiritual because I just started reading George Carlin's autobiography. I didn't even know he had one until I stumbled upon it recently. He had been working on it for years and it was unfinished when he died; his collaborator finished it. I worship Carlin so I am reading it reverently.
Any way I came up here feeling empty/full and wondering what the hell to say. Started looking around the room. My room. I obsess about decorating the room to reflect the true me; I'm gonna buy this, hang that up, add this, do that. Of course I never have the money. As I looked around it hit me that the room is already decorated in True Joe.
Piles of CD's and lots of books. Magazines. A dusty boombox. A plastic bag with The Allman Brothers logo on it. A shot of a French cafe, believe it or not.
On the wall: stuff that inspires the hell out of me. A picture of Keith Richards, sitting, hands up, cigarette smoke partially obscuring his face. He has that look on his face. Looking right at me. I fantasize that he is saying "I've done something big with my life, when are you going to do something with yours." Because he would say that to me, challenge me like that if we were friends.
I have a small picture in my bookcase of Janis Joplin laughing, really laughing, and pointing her finger at me. I fantasize that she is laughing good naturedly at my efforts to make something of myself while simultaneously encouraging me to do so. Or maybe just laughing at my hangups and twisted thoughts. Who knows.
There is an Allman Brothers poster I bought AT THE BEACON THEATRE IN NYC. The first time I went there. I'm not going to get into it deeply,but for an Allman Brothers fan, seeing them there is like going to church, to a holy place, it is a musical pilgrimage of immense proportions. I have been lucky enough to do that twice. Most recently this past March. I have goosebumps as I write this.
I have one album cover on the wall. Delaney and Bonnie and Friends ON TOUR with Eric Clapton. One of my favorite rock pictures. It's a Rolls Royce parked in the desert; someone is lying casually across the front seat, their boots hanging out the passenger side window. It's a place I want to be and may never get to see.
I have another album cover that fell and shamefully I have not hung back up. Yet. It's The Allman Brothers first album. 1969. The album that had such a huge impact on my life. It's an iconic picture and I shall raise it again soon.
Jim Morrison sitting bleary eyed in a diner, one eye closed, bottle of beer, bottle of ketchup in front of him, couple of rocks glasses, long flowing hair and a full, dark beard. The tortured poet.
A framed picture of George Harrison on the cover of Guitar World magazine. A beautiful spirit snuffed out too early, and frustrated early on when he was not allowed full expression on Beatles albums. He remedied that with a vengeance when he released All Things Must Pass.
A sketch of John Lennon, the arms crossed iconic NYC wearing the shades one. Very cool. Another sketch that I absolutely love of all four Beatles leaning into the wind, their hair blowing behind them.
A huge plastic Crown Royal bottle in a huge Crown Royal Christmas stocking, hanging on the wall. 'Nough said. Doc gave that to me. Thanks Doc.
A picture of Bob Dylan and George Harrison on stage side by side, ripped jeans, denim jackets, amplified acoustic guitars. Way cool.
In the bookcase again, essentially side by side, a framed Playboy cover with a picture of a gorgeous playmate, shirtless with her arms crossed in front of her, next to a framed Rolling Stone cover with a picture of Keith Richards, shirtless (frightening) with his arms crossed in front of him, holding his guitar. The poses are similar, which of course is what amused me. I call that shelf beauty and the beast.
A Rolling Stones poster nailed to the door from their 1989 Steel Wheels tour. A guy I worked with at the time had it hanging on the door to his office and I used to constantly admire it. One day he just took it down, handed it to me and said "It's yours." How cool is that. Thank you Bob.
A miniature Patriots flag commemorating Super Bowl XXXVIII, saying World Champions 2003.
An acoustic and an electric guitar, both collecting dust. For now.
Point of reference - the pile of books is heavily populated with those written by Hunter S. Thompson, and Charles Bukowski. Look them up - if you know me you will understand.
On the windowsill - plastic skulls, a Keith Richards bobble head doll and an empty Jack Daniel's bottle that made the trip with me and back to that first Allman Brothers at The Beacon trip.
I haven't covered everything in the room and I'm sure I bored you completely with the list. But remember, it's my blog and I can do whatever I want with it.
The point is I obsess about "making this room" mine, decorating it just right, when the truth is it is already done. It has been decorated by my life, by my living, by absent mindedly collecting and admiring the things that inspire me and define me and make me feel and make me think. My personality and my true nature is captured in this room.
John Lennon said "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans."
I will add more cool things to this room when I have some money. But I love the vibe right now. This room is my life happening.

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