#he reminds me of Jim Morrison

[samanthasgone]

Too bad I wasn’t alive back then because damn he was pretty. RIP Micheal

Michael performing with INXS at the Miami Arena in Florida, March 1988

© Paul Natkin

[the-labyrinth-of-me]

Watched an interview with Ilkka in which he said that one of the inspirations for Zane's look was Jim Morrison, so I looked up a few pictures of the legendary "The Doors" singer and decided to post them here, for art references and character studies :)

Because I know that I'm not the only one who's mesmerized by Tom Zane ...

The song that reminds me of him the most (wrong band though)

[brownskinnedwitch]

pls write smth short n smutty w jim morrison 🙏🏻🙏🏻

pairing: jim morrison x fem!reader

warnings: explicit content, smut, very little plot, d/s, spanking, choking, hair pulling, (brief) cnc and mean dom, daddy kink, unedited, ill add more later

wc: 257

a/n: back from the dead LMAO!! tldr: got caught up with school, semester is finally over, working through everybody’s requests (love them all btw), ty for ur guys patience!

You thought you were getting away with it, at least for a moment, until Jim’s hands were on your throat and your knees burned choking on his dick, until darkness crept in the edges of your vision and you told him “daddy, daddy, m' gonna pass out” and he said “you don't think I know that? you think I care? either way, I’m still going to fuck this throat” until, suddenly, you’re on the bed, face smothered into a pillow as one of his hands pulls your hair tight and another slaps your ass.

You babble your apologies into the bed, that you’re sorry, you’re so sorry, but Jim keeps going, faster and faster, each slap more painful than the last. When he finally stops you nearly sob in relief.

“Remind me,” he says flipping you over onto your back, “what do I do with bratty little girls?”

You look up at him through teary eyes. “You punish them Daddy.”

“I punish them.” He says. “Because they need to be reminded of their place, and it seems like my little girl has forgotten hers.” He caresses your hot, sticky face and you whimper at the feeling, the coolness of his touch. “Poor baby. Daddy will help you remember, don’t worry. Gonna fuck the brat right out of you until all that’s left is my good little girl. No matter how many times it takes. You just lay there and do whatever Daddy tells you, okay? Can you do that? Can you do that for Daddy?”

You nod your head, “Yes Daddy,” and he smiles. “Good. Because baby,” he leans down to kiss a tear on your cheek and you shudder as he whispers,

“You don’t have a choice.”

[do-it-for-the-fandom]

The Announcement. Christmas 2023.

Rick flopped down on the couch beside his wife, leant his head back against the soft cushions and closed his eyes.

"I don't think I'm going to make it to bed tonight," he mumbled. "Don't think I could pull myself off this couch even if it were on fire."

Kate laughed - just one short huff of air through her nose, she was too exhausted for anything more than that.

"If I have some sort of brain malfunction and offer to host Christmas Dinner next year, would you please be kind enough to remind me of this moment?"

"Happily." Kate leant against Rick's side, rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, taking a moment to soak up the silence.

After a minute, she spoke again. "It was nice, though."

"Good to have Alexis home again," Rick added.

Kate hummed in agreement. "And Sam's family is wonderful."

Alexis had married her boyfriend of two years, Samuel Morrison, in April and moved across the state just a few months later. She was just a few hours away - and made an effort to call her brothers and sister every night before bed - but the distance had been a big change for all of them to adjust to. Having her and Sam home for a few days was better than any gift they could have asked for.

In order to make the most of the few days they had been given, Rick had offered to host a joint Christmas dinner. Rick, Kate, Lilly, Reece and Jake were joined by Martha in the earlier hours of the day, soon followed by Jim. Alexis and Sam arrived later in the afternoon, bringing Sam's family (his parents, his sister and her husband, and their two kids) with them. It was a beautiful (albeit exhausting) blending of families - the first since the wedding - and even though Rick felt like he could probably sleep for a week after the day's festivities, he didn't actually regret a single thing and he would do it all again in a heartbeat.

"She picked a good one," he said sincerely.

"Thank you, Sir."

Rick and Kate peeled their eyes open and turned to look over the back of the couch. Sam and Alexis stood at the bottom of the stairs, hand-in-hand with bright smiles on their faces.

"The boys are fast asleep," Alexis informed them. "Lilly is finishing one more chapter of the book Jim got her but she has promised to turn the light off and go to sleep as soon as she does."

"So I'll sneak back up in about ten minutes to see how many chapters she's actually read," Sam laughed.

"Reminds me of someone else at that age," Rick said pointedly, looking at his eldest daughter.

"Thank you for putting them to bed." Kate pulled herself to her feet and walked toward the kitchen. "Do either of you want a tea or coffee? There's plenty of cocoa left."

"No thanks," Alexis answered on behalf of them both. "We were going to head back to the hotel, actually. We just wanted to give you both your gift first."

She looked at Sam and nodded, signalling for him to retrieve the gift from where she had hidden it in the office.

Rick rose from the couch. "You didn't have to get us a gift."

"I know you had to sacrifice some of your decorations to make room for everyone today," she said as she moved closer to her father. "Notably the tree. Kate mentioned that you were going to get a smaller one, but couldn't find one you liked."

"I may have been unnecessarily picky," Rick confessed.

"We found one that we thought you might like," Sam said as he stepped out of the office and placed a small flocked tree in the centre of the living room.

The tree was 4ft tall, adorned with bright white twinkle lights, gold ribbons and transparent baubles. As Kate and Rick both moved closer to inspect their gift, they realised that each bauble had a photograph inside of it.

"How did you manage to sneak this in without us seeing?" Kate asked.

"Lilly was more than happy to provide a distraction for me," Alexis said with a smirk.

Kate smiled. "Of course she was."

Rick drifted around the tree, studying each image carefully. It seemed that they were all from Christmases passed: he and Kate in front of the tree on their first Christmas together; Alexis at the ice rink as a child; Lilly, Jake and Reece's first Christmas photos; even Sam's first Christmas with the family. Each new photograph tugged at his heart-strings, brought tears to his eyes. He missed his girl; but he was eternally grateful that she was with someone who nurtured her softer sides, her thoughtful, kind heart.

Kate gasped. He looked up and met her sparkling, tear-filled eyes over the top of the tree. The smile that peeked out from behind the cover of her hand was more than enough to tell him he needed to see whatever it was that had caught her so off-guard. He hurried around the tree to stand by his wife's side.

He didn't know how he had missed it before. Right in the very centre of the tree, in a bauble just like the others, was a tiny print out of a sonogram. The words Baby Morrison, June 2024 were printed along the bottom edge of the image.

He turned to face his daughter. Her husband stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist and hands rested on her belly.

Despite the flurry of thoughts swirling through Rick's mind, not a single one managed to form into words.

"I can't tell if you're happy or not," Alexis said through a nervous chuckle.

Rick nodded and rushed toward his daughter. She stepped out of her husband's embrace and into the welcoming arms of her father.

"Over the moon," he whispered into her hair as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and squeezed her tight. "Congratulations."

[starlahuskyz]

Chances - Chapter 15

Summary: Jordan finally visits the boy's cave and they create plans to have some fun.

I really meant it when I said I'd try to stay consistent.

Chapter 14 <<< >>> Chapter 16

TW// None

-------------------------

After leaving the boardwalk and making a quick snack out of a poor unfortunate drunk guy, the boys decided to take Jordan back to their place. Upon arriving at the cliff that led to their place Jordan was confused, she was expecting a house, or some kind of structure with a roof. Instead she saw old wooden steps leading into a cave entrance on the side of the cliff.

“You guys live there?” She pointed to the cave and Marko nodded.

“It’s our wonderful abode, perfect for a bunch of vampires like us.” He headed for the steps and held out a hand for Jordan. She didn’t quite make a move, then she saw how Laddie and Paul were already happily bounding down the steps into the cave entrance. She steadied herself and thought “Okay, if a kid can go down then I should have no problem getting down.” She took Marko’s and as he helped guide her down the old rickety steps into their home. And upon finally making it inside, she was not prepared for what she saw.

The cave was full of all kinds of broken structures and a variety of objects, it looked like it used to be some kind of hotel of sorts. Some string lights hung upon the roof of the place and trash cans full of fire lit the place up. Other random things she noticed were, a large poster of Jim Morrison which reminded her of Michael, she also took note of the fountain and how there seemed to be some kind of sculpture made of bones and a little plastic skeleton most likely stolen from some poor grandma’s lawn on Halloween. She was pretty impressed by the display, but at the same time was curious as to how the hell they slept in a place like this. There were beds and couches but they looked old and like they could be housing diseases. Marko finally asked “So, what do you think? This place used to be an old resort before the earthquake of ‘06, it fell right into the earth cuz they built it on the fault. So we took it over.” 

“Wow…you guys live like this?” Jordan brushed some random dirt and dust that accumulated on her shoulder.

“Well vampires don’t tend to live in fancy houses like you do.” David poured himself a glass of wine while making the remark.

“I guess, but I mean look at all this crap laying around. You have a tool chest, an old wheelchair, and…” She pulled back a sheet covering an unknown object “A traffic light?” She looked at the boys incredulously. 

“You can thank Paul for that one.” Dwayne said as he got out the boombox. “He stole it during a car accident.

“Yep, I just slipped in and took it. Like a ghost.” He slapped it proudly.

“Wonderful, are there any other cool objects you wanna show me?” Jordan sat on the lip of the fountain and before she knew it, a pigeon came flying over to her lap. “A pigeon…it just keeps going doesn’t it?” She scratched at its head, surprised with how chill it was. Marko came over holding three more pigeons.

“That’s Polo, I have three more. Their names are Elio, Luca, and…Sir Paulington.” He looked at Paul when giving the last name and Paul swooped over and took Sir Paulington from him.

“Let me guess, he named that one?” Jordan pointed to Paul.

“Yes, I take great pride in Sir Paulington.” He stroked the pigeon’s head gently.

“I’m surprised you’re allowed to keep a pigeon…let alone any living creature.” Jordan continues looking around taking in her surroundings, when she notices a small alcove with two beds. “Who sleeps here?” She calls out to the boys before she’s interrupted by little Laddie who takes her hand dragging her to one of the beds.

“This is where I sleep! Star sometimes sleeps on the other bed with Michael.” He looks happy, but Jordan can’t help but feel somewhat conflicted. He seems happy, but she couldn’t shake the thought of wondering why a kid would want to sleep in a place like this. Not to mention where the hell he came from, he surely doesn't look like any of the boys. She’s pulled from her thoughts when Laddie shows her a teddy bear, it’s about half his size and its poor fur looks a little dirty. “This is my bear, his name is Ted. Marko got it for me on the boardwalk.“ Jordan took the bear into her own hands and smiled. She had already taken note of its relatively dirty state, but she still felt a sense of love stored in the bear.

“That’s great bud.” She handed him his bear back and made her way towards Marko who had been staring the whole time. She stood in front of him while he stood from his spot on the lip of the fountain. “And here I thought you were a tough guy, you’re really just a big ole softie.” She grabbed a hold of his cheek and pinched it.

“The hell, I’m not! I do ONE nice thing and then you jump to calling me a softie?” He grabs her hand and pulls it from his face feigning a look of hurt. “You haven’t even seen my tough side, I could be so much worse for you….” He leaned into her face and whispered that last part, making her shiver. 

“I won’t believe it until I see it for myself.” She pulls away from him, and before he can give chase to her David calls for him. He gives Jordan a quick peck on the cheek before going to check on David. Jordan felt the flutter of butterflies in her stomach, she had a good feeling about him.

“You know, he’s right. He’s even rivaled me when it comes to causing chaos here in Santa Carla. I mean, they don’t call us the terror twins for no reason…” Paul suddenly says while nodding at her reassuringly. Jordan only looks at him puzzled.

“...What are you talking about?” Paul swings an arm over her shoulders pulling her in a different direction.

“I’m talking about your man being an anarchist! Causer of trouble, a real menace to society.” Jordan pushes his arm away.

“Okay that’s great and all, but what’s your point?” 

“Simple, you don’t believe he’s a tough guy? Then I’m gonna prove it to you…tonight! I’m taking you, Marko, and Dwayne with me to go have some fun.” He looks over at Dwayne who is braiding Laddie’s hair “Whaddya say Dwayne? You with us?” 

He looks up from his work and shrugs. Paul claps “I’ll take that as a yes!” Marko comes over to the others and whispers something into Paul’s ear and he nods giggling while looking at Jordan.

A bad feeling arose within her and she started getting worried. “Well, um to be honest, I don’t think I’m quite down to do whatever you guys consider fun.” She took a few steps back and was ready to run, that is until Dwayne popped up behind her and stopped her.

“What’s the matter with you Jordan? Stop being such a stick in the mud, it’ll be fun!” Paul pushes it.

“Well you guys are giving me a bad feeling, how do I know you’re not trying to set me up for some kind of humiliation?” Paul crosses his arms giving a look.

“Okay then…I guess Jordan is allergic to fun. Or she’s afraid, like a real chicken!” He starts making chicken noises and Jordan perks up.

“Now hold on, I never said I was afraid. I know how to have fun, I just know how to do it right!” She shoves Paul before and he laughs.

“There is no such thing as having fun the wrong way! What exactly do you think we plan on doing?” He raises an eyebrow and Jordan thinks for a moment.

“I don’t know, something involving jumping off of a bridge?” Jordan made a guess.

The boys gave each other a look and smirked, Jordan felt a sinking feeling which was only amplified as she could hear David cackling on the other side of the cave.

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Taglist (If you wanna be tagged, just ask ^ ^)

@blog4horror @ria-coolgirl @oceansrose2002 @hypocriticaltypwriter @deliciousfestsalad

[sweetdreamsjeff]

The Rebel: Patti Smith

--I bring Tim Buckley's unreleased demo of the old folk tune ‘Wayfaring Stranger’ for Patti, and she talks about how the singer/songwriter was a favourite of Robert Mapplethorpe’s back in the early Brooklyn days, and chuckles when she recalls how she and her first partner in artistic crime would neck like high school kids to the Goodbye And Hello album. She was delighted when Jeff Buckley stopped by the recording sessions and added a high, ghostly vocal part to ‘Beneath The Southern Cross’, and even more delighted when he raced home and returned to the studio with an essrage, an Egyptian instrument he used to texture the track ‘Fireflies’.--

---

Ben Edmonds, MOJO, August 1996

To R.E.M.’s Michael Stipe, she is "one of the premier artists of my lifetime – I’ve blindly stolen from her for years." To Bob Dylan, she is "still the best, you know." She is one of rock ‘n’ roll’s true originals, and on her return to the fray after eight years of joy and tragedy lived out of the public eye, Patti Smith grants Ben Edmonds the most revealing interview of her career.

PATTI SMITH IS IN FULL SWAGGER, WORKING THE ROXY Theatre stage in LA with relaxed authority. She takes the stage alone, wearing a shapeless warm-up jacket with hood tightly framing her face, to deliver a fiery reading of ‘Piss Factory’. With each succeeding song she adds band members until her musical complement is complete. Left-hand man Lenny Kaye and drummer Jay Dee Daugherty are Patti Smith Group confederates, while bassist Tony Shanahan has played with Kaye and John Cale (and backed Patti on some solo dates last autumn). This core trio is augmented by Patti’s 23-year-old poetry protege Oliver Ray on rhythm guitar and — seated stage left behind impenetrable shades and cradling his guitar like some old CBGB's bluesman — Tom Verlaine.

Smith has a couple of wild cards up her sleeve as well. She introduces Bob Neuwirth as "the person who encouraged me to sing and gave me my first start," after the legendary personage – Bob Dylan road companion, Jim Morrison babysitter, painter, filmmaker, composer of ‘Mercedes Benz’ for Janis Joplin – has sung a typically wonderful song called ‘I Don't Think Of Her’. "Bobby has a new CD out [Look Up on Watermelon Records] on which I appear," Patti announces. "It's available almost nowhere."

Her son Jackson, 13, appears plugged in and joins the troupe for a romp through – are you ready? – ‘Smoke On The Water’. Jack and guitar stand nose to nose with the amp, noodling noisily as Lenny Kaye sings Deep Purple's stirring lament for the tragic death by fire of recording equipment. Mom makes the most of her vocal cameo, belting out "Fire in the sky-eee" in the most godawful screech you've ever heard. It's a small glimpse of what the future might have held had Patti chosen to become the singer of Blue Oyster Cult (for whom she wrote songs) instead of setting off on her crusade to save the soul of rock'n'roll with The Patti Smith Group.

The band has a homemade, slightly ragtag quality that reminds this audience member of nothing so much as the earliest Patti Smith Group when it consisted of Patti, Lenny and Richard Sohl. That trio "toured" California in 1974 to "promote" ‘Piss Factory’, and you felt like you were watching something invent itself right before your eves. This mini "tour" follows almost exactly the same path, and once again you feel like you're watching something in the exhilarating process of becoming.

They attack a fair number of familiar songs – ‘Ghost Dance’, ‘Rock'N'Roll Nigger’, ‘Dancing Barefoot’ (although, curiously, nothing from Dream Of Life) – with gusto. The 10 shows opening for Bob Dylan last winter seem to have jump-started this aggregation's chemistry, and they're now also capable of moments of transcendence that rival anything Patti's bands have attained in the past. ‘About A Boy’, her meditation on the loss of Kurt Cobain, has grown from humble acoustic beginnings into an oceanic noisefield than tonight is staggering. And their ‘Wicked Messenger’ ranks with the great rock rearrangements of Dylan songs. It's a treat that such a thing remains possible in 1996.

The small acoustic shows and guest spots she's done sporadically over the past year have been tentative in tone and occasionally awkward. She is not – nor does she have the slightest inclination to be – the punk tornado who ripped through this room 20 years ago, when the Roxy was LA's premier showcase club, hosting legendary engagements by Neil Young, Bruce Springsteen and Bob Marley, and live recordings by Frank Zappa, Talking Heads, Warren Zevon and others. But she has certainly regained every bit of the belief that the space is hers to command.

The sold-out house is evenly divided between the older soldiers who served in the rock revolution Patti Smith heralded in the early '70s and those who wish they could have been there, having heard their own heroes like Michael Stipe say that were it not for Patti Smith he wouldn't exist. The R.E.M. singer has been all over MTV News this week, quoted as saying that Patti's show at the Wiltern Theatre a few days earlier had been not simply the greatest concert he'd ever seen, but one of the greatest emotional experiences of his life. *

THE PATTI SMITH RESUME: ARRIVED IN NEW YORK FROM New Jersey in 1967 and wrote herself a new identity in concert with photographer Robert Mapplethorpe; wrote plays like Cowboy Mouth with Pulitzer Prize winner Sam Shepard one line at a time, pushing a battered typewriter back and forth across a Chelsea Hotel tabletop in a game of attitude chess; published small press volumes of hallucinogenic verse inhabited by James Joyce, Johnny Ace, Jesus Christ, Harry Houdini, Joan of Arc, James Brown, Georgia O'Keefe, the Paragons and the Jesters, Picasso and Rimbaud and Bob Dylan's dog; wrote poems, profiles and record review reveries for Creem and Rolling Stone; put her big ideas into embryonic practice at her Rock'N'Rimbaud readings accompanied by guitarist Lenny Kaye at St Mark's Church, New York's new poetry nirvana; released ‘Piss Factory’ b/w ‘Hey Joe’ in 1974 on their own Mer Records, now regarded as one of the first shots fired in the punk/indie revolt (though at the time it was a shot barely heard in the next block); released in 1975 a debut album Horses, a parable in spoken word and song for the declaration of self that adolescents itchy to slip their skins will probably respond to for generations to come; sounded a clarion call with her amped-to-the-teeth Patti Smith Group that has been answered only in part by punk rockers, alterna-nerds and riot grrrls; fell from a Tampa, Florida stage in 1977 to a concrete floor 14 feet below, breaking her neck; came out of traction and back into action with ‘Because The Night’, a hit single co-written with Bruce Springsteen, yet always gave equal time to noisy improvisational epics like ‘Radio Ethiopia’ that were unplayable on any radio format (and guaranteed to scare the living piss out of anyone attracted by her Brucie ballad); announced her retirement from public life in the shadow of her biggest-selling album (Wave); and immediately following her biggest concert ever (85,000 in an Italian football stadium on September 10, 1979) quietly married former MC5 guitarist Fred 'Sonic' Smith in 1980, and moved to an unassuming Detroit suburb to raise a family. In the next decade she raised her head above the parapet only once, with her 1988 album Dream Of Life.

Since 1990, Patti has suffered the loss of four of her closest comrades. Her best friend Robert Mapplethorpe was claimed by AIDS. Her piano player (and, after Lenny Kaye, longest-serving musical ally) Richard Sohl succumbed to heart failure. Then in late '94 her husband, soulmate, and hero of so many of her best songs (‘Because The Night’, ‘Frederick’, ‘Dream Of Life’), Fred 'Sonic' Smith, suddenly passed away, a shock compounded by the death of her brother and crew manager Todd Smith only a month later.

The release of a new album, Gone Again, and a limited return to live performance is part of a plan she and Fred had mapped out before his untimely passing. Yet there's no denying that these activities have now become, at least in part, a memorial to all her fallen comrades. This mission was launched in earnest last December when, at the personal invitation of Bob Dylan, she opened 10 of his shows on the East Coast, a pairing he dubbed The Paradise Lost Tour.

"A lot of girls have come along since Patti started," Dylan told a Boston audience the first of many times they duetted on his song ‘Dark Eyes’. "But Patti's still the best, you know." Then he kissed her. *

DRIVING TO PATTI'S HOUSE, I WAS THINKING ABOUT something she had told me recently. The subject was her desire to play only those places where she'd been treated well. I wondered, then, what places this might disqualify.

"Detroit," she said without hesitation. "They've never been that supportive of our work. I don't think Fred got the support from the music community that he was entitled to. The radio stations knew who he was and what he'd done, and they should've tipped their hat to him. I guess I feel somewhat bitter about that. Not for me. I don't care; but it hurt Fred deeply."

Patti will soon be moving back to New York. This move is not unexpected. Detroit was where she came to make her life with Fred. It was his town, his family, his roots, and there's probably no place she can turn here and not be confronted by a reminder of her late husband.

This has got to be especially true of their home, which they bought, furnished, and within which they created a family. Patti and Fred even saved it together, sandbagging the place when torrential rains and a rising lake very nearly flooded them out. Because the family was so reclusive, all sorts of rumours circulated about their domestic refuge. One had them living in a sumptuous lakefront estate, another pictured them in utter sub urban tract home anonymity. Neither turns out to be accurate.

They're not on the lake, though they could most certainly see it if there weren't so many other houses in the way. They live in a normal middle-class neighbourhood where many of the smallish homes sport obvious additions to accommodate expanding families, resulting in houses that are a little too big for their modest plots but never quite big enough to contain all the kids' stuff which litters the porches and short driveways. Yet there's no doubting which is the Smith residence. It's easy to spot, being the only castle on the block. A small castle, to be sure, really no bigger than most of the surrounding homes, but a towered and turreted castle all the same.

Seen from the insight, the tower contains the winding staircase that leads to the upper floor. The house is sparsely though comfortably furnished, in casual boho. The usual family stuff is posted on the fridge and scattered about; handmade birthday and Mother's Day cards, postcards, school meeting notices. If it weren't for the guitars and amplifiers in the living room, you'd never know this was the lair of musicians. Where you might expect to find a portrait of some revered family elder hangs a picture of honorary uncle Allen Ginsberg.

Once past the idea of amps in the living room, the closest we get to rock'n'roll excess is an extravagant selection of teas. Oliver Ray brews some camomile for Patti, whose stomach is acting up.

At 48, Patti Smith's hair is unashamedly lashed with gray and worn in simple braids. Her interview demeanour is pretty much as it's always been. She considers each query carefully and answers at length, not looking at her interviewer but staring at some private point beyond the opposite wall, a safe place she always returns to. Though Patti is never at a loss for a forcefully expressed thought or opinion, whenever the conversation touches on her late husband – which is frequently – her voice falters and she has to bear down hard on her words to get them out.

I bring Tim Buckley's unreleased demo of the old folk tune ‘Wayfaring Stranger’ for Patti, and she talks about how the singer/songwriter was a favourite of Robert Mapplethorpe’s back in the early Brooklyn days, and chuckles when she recalls how she and her first partner in artistic crime would neck like high school kids to the Goodbye And Hello album. She was delighted when Jeff Buckley stopped by the recording sessions and added a high, ghostly vocal part to ‘Beneath The Southern Cross’, and even more delighted when he raced home and returned to the studio with an essrage, an Egyptian instrument he used to texture the track ‘Fireflies’.

You find yourself wanting to somehow crack the fog and get her to smile. During the second of our two interviews, conducted at her Michigan home, it is her eight-year-old daughter who unintentionally provides the cue. Patti is expounding on the divine bliss of parenthood when Jesse, who's been yakking to a friend in the other room, suddenly calls out, "Mommy, can I have a cellular phone?"

"No," Patti immediately shoots back, rolling her eyes at the cosmic timing of this interruption, and then dissolving into the best laugh I'd heard from her in a very long time.

In the words of one of those Irish poets, "the healing has begun." *

This album is unique for you in that it has so many solo songwriting credits.

Fred was giving me guitar lessons. He had taught me some chords, basically so I could write songs. We studied song structure and things I didn't know a whole lot about. He taught me enough on the guitar that, after a lot of practice, I could write simple songs. When he passed away...I just…um… I used to spend a lot of time by myself at night with the acoustic guitar just making up little songs. A lot of the songs on the record – ‘Farewell Reel’, ‘About A Boy’, ‘Raven’, ‘Dead To The World’, ‘Wing’ – were written that way late at night. They're all in waltz-time, 3/4, which is the only time signature we worked on so it's the only one I know.

The version of ‘About A Boy’ you played at the Roxy is already far beyond the album version.

That song has really grown in performance. It's the closest thing to anarchy – controlled anarchy – that we have right now, because we let the song completely open up at the end. I always like having a piece where everyone goes out but then returns. That was the beauty of John Coltrane, and what separated him from the noisemakers and indulgent jerk-offs. He would go out there and stay out there as long as he could, but he always returned. That's what we strive for.

When Kurt Cobain took his life, Fred and I were extremely disturbed about that. Both of us liked his work. We thought it was good for young people. I was happy that there was a new band I could relate to, and looked forward to watching them grow. He had a future. As parents, we were deeply disturbed to see this young boy take his own life. The waste, and the emotional debris he left for others to clean up.

I was also concerned how it would affect young people who looked up to him, or looked to him for answers. I guess that's the danger of looking to anyone else for answers, but I perceived that he had a responsibility. To himself, to the origin of his gifts, to his family, to the younger generation.

So I wrote the song for two reasons. One was as a well wish, even after what he did, that his continuing journey be beautiful. But it was also written with a certain amount of bitterness. The chorus says "About a boy/beyond it all." One way of looking at it is that he's beyond this particular plane of existence. But it's also a wry statement, a frustrated refrain. It relates to my sorrow for the various boys we've lost. Whether it be Jim Morrison or Brian Jones; any of these young, gifted, driven people who do feel they're beyond it all, that they can completely ravage and ruin their bodies or have no sense of responsibility to their position and their gifts. We all were pioneering some kind of freedom, but I don't think what's been done with it is all that constructive.

When you were that age how did you deal with those feelings?

All young people feel sometimes that they can't take it, that they'd rather die than get up out of bed. But there was always something that reminded me, it could be anything. The handiwork of man. I could be feeling totally desolate and then look at a beautiful prayer rug or a Picasso, and that would be enough to make me want to live. That's what other people's work did for me. When I say that The Rolling Stones got me through this, or Bob Dylan got me through that, they did. That in itself is a motivation for working. The act of creation is a beautiful thing. That belongs to the artist; he's got that moment of illumination, when a kernel of an idea erupts and blooms. But after he creates it, it ceases to be his. It's really for other people.

What brought you back to New York to record?

I love Electric Lady, which is where we cut Horses; it's intimate but highly developed. It's right on 8th Street, so you can walk out at three in the morning and there are people on the streets. It's a good energy. I don't require privacy and silence when I'm recording. It's the first recording studio I was ever in. The first time I ever went there was also the first rock'n'roll party I'd ever been to. Jane Friedman invited me to this party for Jimi Hendrix because he'd just opened the studio up. I was so excited because I'd never been in a recording studio before. But when I got there I was too nervous to go in, so I sat on the steps. Then Jimi came up the stairs. He was incredibly beautiful; tall, very... he was Jimi Hendrix, y'know? A great-looking man. But really shy. He came up the stairs and I was sitting there so he sat down next to me and just talked. He asked me why I wasn't going down and I told him I was too nervous. He said, "Me too, I'm too nervous to stay." Then he told me some of the things about the studio, and how he wanted to work on a more global kind of music. He said that he was going to London, but that when he came back he was gonna go up to Woodstock with new musicians and then bring them into Electric Lady to record. But of course he never came back from London... That was a great moment for me. So when Robert Mapplethorpe gave us money to do ‘Piss Factory’, even though it was not much money I had to go to Electric Lady.

The equipment has been updated, but it's got a lot of the same things – the late '60s psychedelic paintings and bad murals of Jimi Hendrix playing right-handed. It didn't really occur to me how cyclic it was until I was in the middle of it. I was standing by myself in the hallway looking at those murals, when I remembered standing in that same spot in 1975 and Robert Mapplethorpe taking a picture of me and John Cale. Lenny came out and stood next to me and said, "Amazing, isn't it?" It was like he could feel what I was feeling. The first time we were back in the studio, just hearing those Lenny guitar tones and Jay on the drums, it was so... from the subconscious. It triggered so many memories.

How was this one as a recording experience?

This album was both joyous and heartbreaking to do. We were 80 per cent done with the record and I had to stop. I couldn't take it any more because... I just really missed Fred. It was so difficult, and I was so emotionally depleted. So we stopped for a while. When we did that little mini-tour with Bob Dylan I was supposed to be finishing the record, but I still couldn't face it. But I got a lot of energy and positive feelings from the Dylan experience, and then we went in and completed the album. Those dates gave me my confidence back.

Do you know what made Bob reach out to you?

What I gleaned from Bob is that he felt it would be good for me to come back out, that he thought people should see me. I wouldn't presume to speak for him, but he has been so highly influential that he knows probably what it tasted like to be influential and then get shuffled around somewhere. I guess he felt I could use some encouragement.

We weren't prepared, but I wanted to do it so badly that we prepared ourselves practically on stage. I think we had about five hours of rehearsal. But all of us had pretty much played together, and we all pooled the things we could do. The first night was pretty shaky, but after that I felt like I was back in familiar territory. My mission on that small tour was to crack all the energy, crack the atmosphere and set the stage for him, to get the night as magic as possible, so that when he hit the stage – 'cos he hits a lot of them – that maybe it would feel a little more special. I think we did a pretty good job and I know that he was happy.

Had you been in touch with him over the years?

No, not really. I met him back in the '70s, before we even had a record deal. It was at the Other End on Bleecker Street in the Village. I was told he was in the audience, so I made a few obscure references that I knew the crowd wouldn't get, but would let him know that I knew he was there. It was kinda presumptuous, but that's the way I was then. I was thrilled that he was there, but I wasn't gonna let him know it. When he came backstage I was kinda snotty. "Any poets around here?" he said, so I said I wasn't into poetry anymore – Poetry sucks. Can you believe I said that? But he was very gracious, and even put his arm around me to have our picture taken. The next week it was in the Soho Weekly News, right on the cover, and seeing that was definitely one of my best moments ever. But it also made me kinda sad, 'cos I knew I hadn't treated him well and I felt like I'd kinda blown it, y'know?

A little while later, I was on 4th Street and I saw him walking toward me. I tried to shrink but he saw me anyway. And he was really nice. He pulled out that picture and said, "Who are these two people? Do you know them?" And he gave me this beautiful smile, just to let me know it was all right. So he's been incredibly generous and understanding toward me from the very beginning.

I've admired Bob Dylan since I was 15 years old; he's been an important part of my life for two-thirds of it now. So to have someone like that give you encouragement is... beyond words. [On the tour] we sang ‘Dark Eyes’ almost every night, and singing with him was just like being in heaven. I was so happy. I kept thinking…sometimes it made me think of Fred, because Fred really liked and admired Bob too. He often said that there were only two people that would be able to pull him out of his self-imposed retirement, Keith Richards and Bob Dylan. He'd say, "Now if Keith or Bob call and want me to play with 'em, I might have to come out." So how could I not answer the call? It was a great experience.

Do you still regard Bob with a fan's awe?

Meeting him again, I can't say I'm in awe of him. The way I relate to him at this point in my life is that he's a man that has a fine presence, a very noble presence. He's an extremely attractive man. When I talk to him I still feel sort of like a schoolgirl, but also like a friend and a colleague.

After Fred passed away, the record I most listened to for solace was Bob's album World Gone Wrong, which is all those great old blues and other songs from the trove of his knowledge. I listened to that almost continuously. Once again he helped me through a difficult time with his music. And then to have him reach out to me as a human being... I'll be forever grateful.

And this gave you the confidence to finish the record.

We'd pretty much recorded everything; most of the vocals on the record are the live vocals. It was just a question of pulling all the threads together and presenting the record. But I just... I just needed time to think about everything. We had pretty much everything cut except the title track ‘Gone Again’, which we did right before we came out here. That was Fred's last music and...um...I just wasn't able to...write the lyrics. And finally I…I marshalled my energies and did it. Lenny had a lot to do with making certain ‘Summer Cannibals’ and ‘Gone Again’ came to light. We had a lot of cassette tapes with Fred playing acoustic guitar or chanting or giving some direction...to me, 'cos he often made tapes like that so I could write lyrics. Lenny had to lovingly piece those songs together.

So many people haven't yet discovered Dream Of Life, which I think is your best album after Horses. People are going to be discovering that album for years.

I hope so, because it's the only real document we have of Fred's range, though it's still only a partial account. It's pretty much his album; I look at Dream Of Life as his gift to me. He wrote all the music, arranged everything, a lot of the song titles, the album title, the concept of the songs, especially ‘People Have The Power’, were all Fred's. I told him we should call it by both our names but he wouldn't. But he had promised me that on this album he would sing on it and we'd put both our names on it. So I was really looking forward... I thought this was going to be a great album because people would see his face, hear him sing, and he was getting interested in performing live again. But...ah...it didn't happen. Which has been the heartbreaking part of making this album for me.

There was one thing released under both your names: the atmospheric piece ‘It Takes Time’ that you did for the Wim Wenders film Until The End Of The World in 1990.

Thank you for remembering that one! I love to hear it, because Fred's reciting poetry. Again, that's almost entirely his piece. Not only did he write the music and some of the poetry, he actually dictated how he wanted me to read my parts. Oh yeah, we had some friction, some healthy friction, in the recording of that song. He was the suggester in the family. He was clearly the boss, although he liked to pretend that he wasn't...

How did you first meet him?

It was March 9, 1976, and we met in front of the radiator at that hot dog place, Lafayette Coney Island, in Detroit. The Sonic Rendezvous Band was opening for us, but I didn't know anything about him. Lenny introduced me to this guy. I heard that his name is Smith, and my name is Smith. We just looked at each other and I was completely taken by him. I had no idea who he was or anything about him until afterwards when Lenny told me. Lenny introduced me to him and said, "He's one of the great guitar players." I said, Perhaps you'll want to play with us tonight. And he said, "Maybe so." Then he left and I asked Lenny if he was really any good, and Lenny said, "The best". So I was playing with him that night, and I had a lot of bravado in those days. I didn't have respect for anybody. But I totally submitted to his reign. He came on the stage and started playing, and after a while I just set my guitar down and let it feed back. I just let him take over because I felt that I had met my match, that I had met the better man.

As I understand it, the original plan you'd developed with Fred called for you to begin re-emerging now anyway.

Yes. This would've happened. It was according to plan. A couple of years after Dream Of Life, Fred wanted us to go out with just a percussionist, Richard Sohl, him and I. It would have been more spoken art, more poetry with them doing interpretive things behind me. Fred really wanted to do that, but then Richard died suddenly. It really broke his heart, 'cos Fred was really close to Richard. So we withdrew from that idea.

Then, after a time he really felt it was time for me to walk back on stage. In his own way he had a somewhat competitive nature, and he was watching how the arena of female artists has really widened. The girls have done a great job. Now, I don't consider myself a female artist – I'm just an artist – but Fred had that bit of competitiveness. He wanted me to take a stand, I think. I actually was the one who was reticent. He felt it in me before I did.

We were gonna do pretty much what we're doing now: do a record, do dates in the summer, do things when we could. But he was... actually (her voice slows down)... looking forward to…that. So…

Are any of the songs from that period on this new album?

Two. I didn't do a lot of them, just because I couldn't. It was just too painful. Even doing those two... They're two rock songs. Fred really wanted me to do rock songs again. For all the knowledge and sophistication that Fred had acquired over the years as a musician, he always said there was always room for one more great rock song, and he never stopped trying to write it. It's just so happened to work out that the pivotal rock songs on the album are the two that Fred and I wrote together.

It's funny, but I really always wanted him to go back out. I would've been happy staying at home taking care of the kids. I really wanted the world to see him. I really loved his work, and I do regret that people didn't get to see his full range. But he was his own man, he did what he wanted. He wasn't a guy trapped in a family situation. He wanted a family deeply, and he committed himself to his family... to a fault, I think. He was a great father.

One of the main reasons that I'm able to feel no guilt, nothing but pride when I'm performing, is that I know he wanted me to do it. I never regretted my decision to stop performing. I spent the '80s studying and writing, and becoming a far more facile writer. I learned quite a bit about everything from sports to cooking, whatever I needed to learn at any given moment. And I really treasure those years. I didn't yearn for or regret the past. I didn't even think about it. I was too wrapped up in our present.

What I often did was to wake up early and write from five to seven or eight when the kids got up. I always allowed myself a time, and continued the work ethic that I had developed with Robert Mapplethorpe. No matter what was happening, even when we were sick, Robert and I always worked. Every day. It was sort of a pact we made, and I've kept to that.

I've learned that I don't need to smoke pot all night and then at three in the morning write my poem. I had to learn a whole different system of creation. If I have from five to seven to do my work, then that's when I'll do it. I've completely grasped the fact that it comes from within me, and I take it wherever I go. Whether I'm in a prison in French Guyana or in my laundry room. You don't have to be the victim of inspiration. I learned a lot of things from Fred...

The recent Mapplethorpe biography painted you as a prisoner of Fred's tyrannical whims.

Oh, please... I made a decision about the kind of life I wanted to live. I made it, and I have never even once – never! – regretted making it. I mean, I missed my friends, I missed the camaraderie of the band, I missed certain things. Even though sometimes it was difficult, to me it was a privilege to be with him. I only regret that he's gone. I don't regret nothing else.

It was a treat to see Bob Neuwirth at your Roxy show.

I met Bobby around 1969 at the Chelsea Hotel. I was still kinda hoping to be a painter at that time, but it was beginning to become clear to me that it wasn't my beat and so I was writing quite a bit. I was in the lobby of the Chelsea and I had a notebook. "Hey poet," I remember him saying. "Well, you look like a poet. Do you write like one?" Defiant, very challenging. I thought, Whoah, Bob Neuwirth! He was in Don't Look Back. That's his leg on the cover of Highway 61 Revisited! So I gave him my notebook, and he read it and actually thought about it. He took me under his wing. He was a bit older than me, and really like a brother. He was very kind to me, but tough too. He taught me a lot, and helped me start to develop some sense of myself as a writer. At the same time he introduced me to a world that I hadn't been privy to. He introduced me to all kinds of people – Janis Joplin, the Grateful Dead – and introduced me in a way that they treated me respectfully.

After that I met Sam Shepard and he was the same way. He really felt that I was a good writer. He encouraged me to the point of conceit, nearly. He really made me feel good about myself, and made it seem important that I keep writing. He and Bobby did a lot to instill in me not only the desire to keep writing, but they made me feel that I was a writer. That's an important step. I had always felt different from other people, a misfit and an alien, but I never really gleaned myself as being special. Other people seemed to pull it out of me, whether it was Robert Mapplethorpe, Sam Shepard or Bobby Neuwirth. I've been very lucky in my life to have people perceive something in me that I didn't always perceive in myself.

When I called your hotel in San Francisco, you were out and they told me that Todd Rundgren had come by with his kids to pick up yours. That seemed like another nice full circle.

Yes. He was very important to me in those early New York days too. I think it was Bobby Neuwirth who introduced me to Todd. And Todd had been so good to Jackson. He let Jack play this beautiful Gibson of his on stage, and then let him take it on the rest of the tour. Todd's another person who really encouraged me. Todd actually thought I had a future as a comedian. I did too.

You mean we almost had Patti Lee Smith in stand-up comedy?

I had that daydream for years. I used to pretend that I went on the Johnny Carson show. He really liked me, and then he got sick and asked me to take over the show until he got better. And I did so well that when Johnny retired he gave me his show. It was one of my favourite daydreams. I still make use of my Johnny Carson studies, as you've probably realised. All the sparring I do, being able to take what hecklers dish out and one-up them, is from years of studying Johnny.

I wasn't really a '60s person. I had lived a fairly sheltered life in South Jersey. I came to New York in 1967, but I lived with Robert Mapplethorpe in Brooklyn. I spent that time working to be an artist or supporting Robert, and I really didn't go through all those '60s changes. I wasn't really involved in the political scene. I was frightened by the '60s, really. The masses of people and all the assassinations and the drug culture and the war in Vietnam...I found all of this overwhelming.

The one positive thing is that I did get a sense of the collective, that there was some sort of unspoken unity thing happening. Even though I was chronologically the same age, I felt younger because I was a bit behind. So I observed it from a slightly different perspective. What I like about it was how it produced its own networking tools, whether publications like Crawdaddy, Creem and Rolling Stone, or underground radio. Number one, of course, was the music itself, which was something new. Generations before us went wild over Benny Goodman or Frank Sinatra, but they didn't necessarily say anything. But our music was in concert with who we were.

So I did learn some good lessons from the '60s. I looked at the best of it, and what I thought would happen is that the '70s would come along and be even better. But then what I saw was the people losing interest, becoming more self-oriented, and I was very concerned. I was sort of disappointed with my own people. I didn't like what I saw, and that inspired me to do the kind of work that I did.

I understand it was Lenny and your brother Todd who helped you through the desolate time after Fred passed away.

Between Lenny and my brother, they wouldn't let me get too deep down. The minute Fred passed away, my brother got on a plane and came out. He devoted the rest of his life – which only turned out to be one month – to getting me back on my feet. Todd was one of those workaholic types who work around the clock and never take vacations, but he left work immediately and came and stayed with me.

Then at Thanksgiving we all went back to my parents', and I was having an extremely difficult time. We always went back to New Jersey for Thanksgiving, and this was the first time without Fred in 16 years. I could hardly even rise in the morning. So Toddie came in and said, "C'mon babe, get dressed," and he made me get in the car. He rolled down the windows – he actually had a car where you had to roll down the windows! –and put on a cassette of the Natural Born Killers soundtrack. Our song ‘Rock'n'Roll Nigger’ is on that, and he turned it up as loud as he could get it, and we drove around to all our old hangouts and the places we used to play when we were kids.

Todd really loved that song, and he played it over and over, singing at the top of his lungs. He was going, "You're gonna be all right. You're gonna get back to work. Fred wanted you to and you're gonna do it and I'm gonna help you do it. Even if I have to quit my job to go on the road with ya, we're gonna pull everything up." He was so full of energy and love and enthusiasm that he made it difficult to disbelieve him. I wasn't familiar with that soundtrack, and he said, "There's another little song on it you'll like." So we parked in front of Hoedown Hall and Thomas's Field where we used to play, and this song came on. It was Bob Dylan singing "See the pyramids along the Nile..." [‘You Belong To Me’]. Fred used to sing that song to me, and I sat there and cried listening to Bob sing it. We had been talking about Dylan and how great he was; again, Toddie would have loved being a part of that tour.

We talked and talked, and he stayed for another couple of days. He wouldn't let me not feel good; it was his mission. He said, "We're gonna spend Christmas together and we're gonna get back on our feet." Todd went back to Virginia, and right after that he suffered a stroke and passed away. Which isn't at all uncommon on my side of the family. It was really terrible, but after the shock of losing him I found that he had made me feel so good, and had brought up my spirits so much, that I made a decision. Since his last mission in life had been to get me feeling good, I wasn't going to have his mission be in vain. So even now when I feel... you know... I just think about that.

You have to let your loved ones go, even as you cherish their spirit as you move forward. Which is difficult, but very important. Then, because of the kind of person I am, I also feel it is my mission to do something in their honour. Like I keep working and collaborating with Robert. [The Coral Sea, her tribute to Mapplethorpe featuring many of his photographs, will soon be published by W.W. Norton.] I have many things to do for Fred, not only in terms of work but of course the lifelong mission of watching over our children. With my brother, my mission is to feel good, be happy and do my work. So in those ways…as deeply as I miss all of their earthly presences, they're still around. Very much around.

"Jesus died for somebody's sins but not mine" is a line that will forever be associated with you. How do you view it now?

I wrote that line when I was 20 years old. A lot of people misinterpreted it as the statement of an atheist, somebody who doesn't believe in anything. I happen to believe in Jesus. I never said he didn't exist. I only said that I didn't want him to take responsibility for my actions. Because I was young, I perceived myself as an artist, and the artist as a sort of cerebral criminal. I wanted the freedom to pursue all the things I imagined. Things within my art, not in life. In my art, I wanted the right to be misguided, misdirected, slightly criminal, utterly promiscuous, even a murderer. Within the realm of my work. I didn't want to be weighed down with such a conscience that I couldn't trample the earth, every junkyard and every cloud. I wanted to be free of conscience. I wanted free rein.

Over the years I got into studying Christ, reconsidering Him in Pasolini terms: Christ as revolutionary, a person who felt akin to our people. I found, as I got older and studied deeper, His roles, His ideals, His philosophies a lot more interesting. To the point that at our last show in Florence in '79, which was the last time I did that version of ‘Gloria’, I sang, "Jesus died for somebody's sins, why not mine?" I probably would not sing that original line now. Not because I think there's anything wrong with it, just because I don't identify with it now.

You always operated from the belief that rock'n'roll was a force for good. With all that's happened in the culture, do you still think that? Or has this belief in some way been perverted?

Well... I think everything gets perverted. But I'm not really concerned with how it gets perverted up in the mainstream, because that's business. I don't have the time or energy to pioneer against big business at this point in my life. Young people can do that.

I like the way young people are interacting globally. I like the alternative networking they're doing. I'd like to see them develop that, and start seeing what they can do collectively to better our situation on the planet. This planet is in deep trouble. What are we seeing? A resurgence of communicable diseases like tuberculosis, we have AIDS; the whole planet is becoming very viral. I'm not saying we can stop it, but only we can reduce all of these things.

Is music the same energy source for kids today that it was for us, or is it even possible that it can be?

I think there's so much stuff now. Look when we grew up. When I was a kid TV was black and white and there were three stations. They only had cartoons on Saturday morning. The records would come out, it's a big album, you have a big record player, you go home and put it on the record player, you sit and listen to it and really digest what the music’s saying. It was its own experience.

Music is still a powerful force – if you have a powerful individual – but I think it's a lot more convoluted now, if that's the right word.

You and Fred talked about not doing anything for personal gain, that it would have to benefit someone else. How do you reconcile that with everything that's happening now?

With this little tour we're not making any money; we're pretty much breaking even. We did a benefit for an AIDS hospice in San Francisco, and benefits will continue to be a big part of our agenda. I have to get back on my feet, truthfully. If it starts building and things go well, I look forward to a time where I never have to take a cent for hitting the stage. I'm watching people in rock'n'roll make millions and millions of dollars. I see a lot of my friends who've gotten extremely prosperous, and I think they should be doing a lot more. I don't mean giving an autographed guitar to charity. I mean, if you already have $20 million in the bank, take 10 million and find the people that are doing the strongest AIDS research and just give it to 'em. I would encourage performers to take the money they make on stage and give it to the people who need it.

When you first came around the mission was to keep alive and free a certain rock'n'roll spirit. Is the mission this time about this different, though related, spirit? The responsibility that comes with freedom?

I think so. A lot of the things we attempted to do in the '70s were accomplished. Like T.S. Eliot said, each generation translates for itself. I done what I was supposed to do when I done it. It's not my place to do it now. I wouldn't even know how to. All I know is that the planet is full of hands needing to be helped, and I'm trying to see what I can do to get things motivated in a new way. I still think it has to be revolutionary. We still need to redesign stuff.

People are making comeback tours and farewell tours, they're going on Unplugged and they're picking up their lifetime achievement awards. But what are they really doing? I think we've gotten way too cute with all these tons of awards we're giving to each other. Too much bullshit, too much cute stuff. The Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame. It's another money machine. I did appear at one of those to induct the Velvet Underground. I did that out of respect to the Velvets, and because that recognition meant something to them. But I feel about the Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame pretty much the way Fred did: that we should be ashamed. The spirit should be the museum.

‘Piss Factory’ is still one of your more resonant works. But those women you described with such disdain – "these bitches are just too lame to understand/too God damn grateful to get this job to know they're getting screwed up the ass" –with all you've lived since, I'm wondering how you'd regard them now?

Oh, I'd be a lot more compassionate now. Not necessarily for their stupidity, because some of their rules and codes I would still rail against. But being hard-working women... maybe their husband's dead, or their husband took off and they've got six kids to look after. So yes, much more empathy, compassion. Much more respect.

When I was younger, I really felt completely there for the misfit, the person outside society. Artists, and people on the fringes, whether because of their philosophies or sexual persuasion or politics. And I still feel akin to those people, 'cos I'm still one of them. But I've been through so much... life – being a mother, being a widow, being a laundress, all the things I do – that I definitely feel more empathy, a more common bond with people. When I was younger I had so much intensity that it got to the point where I felt I was in a whole other realm. I don't feel that so much – I feel a lot more human these days.

© Ben Edmonds 1996

Michael Stipe on Patti

UNLIKE THE OTHER GUYS IN THE BAND, WHEN WE started I didn't have any particular understanding of the standard history of the pop format, so I pretty much learned as I went along. I had virtually no musical background. I pretty much ignored music until I was about 15 years old, and at the high school that I went to – which was in Illinois in the very heart of middle America – heavy metal ruled. My parents listened to Gershwin, Mancini, Wanda Jackson and the soundtrack to Dr Zhivago. That's all I heard.

I accidentally got a subscription to the Village Voice when I was 15. Right about that time – middle to late 1975 – they were talking about this thing that was going on in New York with Television and Patti Smith and the Ramones and CBGB's. I distinctly remember the November 1975 issue of Creem magazine. Someone had left a copy in study hall under a chair. It had a picture of Patti Smith, and she was terrifying looking. She looked like Morticia Addams. And I think it was Lester Bangs or Lisa Robinson writing about punk rock in New York and how all the other music was like watching colour movies, but this is like watching static-y black and white TV. And that made incredible sense to me. I read about those bands before I ever heard them, and it just sounded so amazing.

Horses, the first Patti Smith album, came out soon afterwards and it pretty much tore my limbs off and put them back on in a different way. I was 15 when I heard it, and that's pretty strong stuff for a 15-year-old American middle-class white boy, sitting in his parents' living room with the headphones on so they wouldn't hear it. It was like the first time you went into the ocean and got knocked down by a wave. It killed. It was so completely liberating. I had my parents' crappy headphones and I sat up all night with a huge bowl of cherries listening to Patti Smith, eating those cherries and going. Oh, my God!... Holy shit!... Fuck!... Then I was sick.

© Michael Stipe 1996

[noel-fielding-web-page]

Can you name any celebs that you just can't include in the tops?

It's not because I don't like them. It's just something between top 20 and outtops, so it's just impossible to include them anywhere. But I still luv them :)

+ David Tennant

This dude won me over when he was the host of the NMTB Doctor Who Special. He was very funny, plus handsome. He didn't become my favourite, but I still respect him :)

+ Bobcat Goldthwait

American comedian, very interesting person. I've never knew him. But when I watched some videos with Noel's conversation with him, I found him so hillarious. They could be wonderful tandem with Noel together. I would be happy :)

+ Robert Downey JR

Great actor and so lovely person. He playing serious brutal characters that very different from him in real life. In real life he's so smiling and adorable that's why I like him :)

+Joan Jett

Thank Noel for letting me find out about this woman :D He's actually remind her in youth. I like her as character. But the music - not quite my style :)

+ Roger Taylor (Queen)

Many people love Freddy Mercury. So, I'm one of the bastards who never liked him :D But Roger is wonderful. Look at this blonde. How not to love him :)

+David Bowie

Very insperetional person. Sadly that he passed away. He was one of the style icons

+ Jim Morrison

The Doors! One of my favourites! That means Jim is favourite singer! Classic never dies!

+ Jared Leto

Stunning actor and singer! 30 Seconds To Mars is amazing band! :)

+ John Cooper Clarke

I've never knew him before Never Mind The Buzzcocks! He's just genius guy! He's humour is better than of any typical stand up comic. True punk poetry! It's great respect :)

+ Joe Lynn Turner

Great singer! I like Rainbow! Eternal classic!

+ Yungblud

Young rock singer. I like him as a person. He strongly reminds Noel, I wasn't surprised at all that they become good friends :)

+Ben Kowalewicz

It's a frontman of Billy Talent. He's a Polish born in Canada. I can't say that I'm big fan of this band, but still find this guys interesting and hilarious :)

+ James Gunn

Maybe, not the best actor, but the great director :)

+ Brandon Flowers

Beautiful singer from The Killers. I think, many people will agree with me that this band is cool :)

+ Amanda Somerville

It's a symphonoc metal singer. I love her voice! Just awesome! :)

+ Sergio Pizzorno

Kasabian and Loose Tapesties singer and just a good mate :)

Thanks for asking :)

[tragantia]

You guys know how Bill himself said that he was living his own Lizard King fantasy when playing Severen? The other day I was reading a Jenette Goldstein interview (I would link it but I'm messy and can't find it now) - she also said he put a lot of Jim Morrison into playing Severen. Part of this is simply aesthetic and physical I presume, but I wonder if there's something else in there, maybe on that self destructive impulse that Severen's got, he's basically a thrill seeker. I mean despite this we all agree Severen is a rock'n'roll god and he doesn't even need musical abilities or a band to be one 😂

But mayyyybe some of those dark impulses that Morrison had could be not so dissimilar to Severen's own antics - although he is mostly an outlaw who simply enjoys violence because he thinks it's fun.

Whiiiiich makes me wonder about his psychological traits and his peculiar relationship with Jesse (we know that Jesse turned him because he reminded him of his kid brother who died in the war... But I think Severen probably has daddy issues as well, hence his closeness to Jesse and ultimate need to have an authority figure he actually respects... Maybe I'm wrong but it's interesting to consider how their family dynamic works).

Amyway, it would have been so interesting to watch Bill playing Jim Morrison, a shame we never got to see that but ahhh we can dream

[incorrectklavekatz]

what is your favorite song scene in the umbrella academy in each season and overall

In season one it’s got to be Soul Kitchen by The Doors, not only is it by my favourite band but it’s got the klave scene, the whole thing was just gorgeous in my opinion. The longing stares, the dancing, the shots while linking arms (a traditional tying off for couples at weddings in multiple cultures), and the kiss on the beat drop??? Perfection. Soul kitchen is about Jim Morrison not wanting to leave a diner he loved, but having to anyway when it closes, and the song over any kind of relationship set in Vietnam is always heartbreaking, Klaus and Dave found a home and a safe space together and ended up losing it in the end.

Season two has to be the whole Klaus cult scene with Sunny by Boney M. Not so much any deep reason for this one like the last one, I just love the song and the colouring for all of it, and how floaty and happy klaus looks for most of it, also the cult leader outfits were>>>

Season three again has to be a Klaus scene, Cats in the Cradle by Ugly Kid Joe. First of all, I love that this song is backing Klaus getting hit by traffic over and over again, second of all, it scares me a little. The whole song is talking about how the speakers son turned out to be just like him, even though he was flawed and not there for his son, who does that remind you of? Klaus and Reggie, the similarities between the two of them specifically in this season, although I’ve seen them all the way through the show, are scaring me for Klaus’s problem child era next season, and I’m just hoping and praying that they don’t ruin him tbh.

I can go into Klaus and Reggies similarities in another rant if anybody is interested, thank you for the ask!! <333

[the-labyrinth-of-me]

Watched an interview with Ilkka in which he said that one of the inspirations for Zane's look was Jim Morrison, so I looked up a few pictures of the legendary "The Doors" singer and decided to post them here, for art references and character studies :)

Because I know that I'm not the only one who's mesmerized by Tom Zane ...

The song that reminds me of him the most (wrong band though)

[dancing-to-architecture]

29 - The Doors - L.A. Woman (1971)

Not even a full month in and we've got a band repetition, and it's a band i didn't like before, so...

Wait, actually, i kinda like two of the songs on this album. Fingers crossed.

•The Changeling-

The keyboard is back and they have it set to something other than "clown rock"! In fact, it actually kinda kicks some ass here.

Jim's kinda singing like Tom Waits on this one.

"But I've never been so broke i couldn't leave town." So... Not broke, then? Or maybe moving didn't cost so goddamn much back in the day?

All in all, meh.

•Love Her Madly-

The anthem of the Wife Guy, and one of the few Doors songs i genuinely liked before this musical odyssey.

And you bet i love her when she's walking out the door, because when that happens, i often get to see a nice booty as she goes.

Also, I'm fairly certain that she's gonna walk *back in* the door again, because that's generally how doors (and healthy relationships) work.

•Been down so Long-

TOM WAITS RETURNS! to sing about how he should be released from prison so he can go and get his dick sucked.

Honestly had me in the first half, but then the second half starts and I've begun rolling my eyes so hard that i can check out *my own* ass at this point.

•Cars Hiss by My Window-

I like the first lines. Very evocative.

Then the next lines instantly reminds me *why* Jim was so worried about women walking out on him.

Why was it so hard to just... *not* fuck everyone around you at all times, man?

I feel like if Jim Morrison ever did even one second's worth of introspection, he'd have written a song called "I'm the cause of all of my problems".

Shame he died not long after this album released and never got the chance.

•L.A. Woman-

This song is legitimately really good. Everybody's nicely working together musically, the lyrics are not immediately problematic as hell, and even the needless Mr Mojo Rising bridge can't bring it down.

A bit long but it's The Doors, so i was expecting that, and at least this one keeps it moving and doesn't drag on for two full minutes of random noises like The End did.

•L'America-

Cool guitar work in the intro. With the keys coming in, it sounds nice and creepy. Sinister.

Garbage lyrics, though i like the misdirection in the middle.

Okay wait, what the fuck is the tone of this song supposed to be? It's all over the place.

•Hyacinth House-

"I need new friends!" No, you need *better* friends.

•Crawling King Snake-

Kinda bluesy, but there's a heavy vibe of: "The snake is my dick, get it? Do you get it? DO YOU GET IT?!

PLEASE UNDERSTAND THAT THE SNAKE IS REFERRING TO MY HOG. I NEED YOU TO UNDERSTAND THIS."

•The Wasp (Texas Radio and the Big Beat)

I don't care if it was '71, by then you should have known that "negroes" isn't fuckin cool to say.

It's even less cool to a modern ear, and everything else is mostly rambly talk-singing trying to sound clever.

•Riders on the Storm-

I love *the music* in this song, and the storm noises throughout are a great touch.

But, as usual for Morrison, the lyrics are the kind of quasi-insightful, rhyming dictionary-ass nonsense that only feel deep if you're so baked that "getting off of a couch" is a Sisyphean task.

Overall, i liked it better than the debut, but that isn't saying much. Still not a Doors fan.

Favorite Track: Love Her Madly. It just makes me think of my wife, because it me for real for real.

Least Favorite Track: a tie between The Wasp and Crawling King Snake.

Casual racism vs "4 more minutes about Jim's dick". Both lose.

[brightlotusmoon]

Earth And Oxygen: The Underestimated - BrightLotusMoon - Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012) [Archive of Our Own]

Not only did I forget that I wrote this forever ago, I forgot I used these quotes. Thank you anonymous commenter, for reminding me.

...

"Friends can help each other. A true friend is someone who lets you have total freedom to be yourself - and especially to feel. Or, not feel. Whatever you happen to be feeling at the moment is fine with them. That's what real love amounts to - letting a person be what he really is." - Jim Morrison

"Kindness in words creates confidence. Kindness in thinking creates profoundness. Kindness in giving creates love." -Lao Tzu

[threecheers-forsweetrevenge]

okay i'm back writing about things that are constantly on my mind.. Today's topic: Life and death, and a little of philosophy

i was reading some things Einstein said about a friends death: Now he has departed from this strange world a little ahead of me. That means nothing. People like us, who believes in physics, know that the distinction between past, present and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion.

This immediately remind me of the words of Facundo Cabral ¨You didn't lose anyone: the one who died simply got ahead of us, because that's where we're all going¨

Sometimes we see death with fear and we don't like to talk about it which is totally understandable, humans fear the unknown.. for some of us is so difficult to accept our mortality, we don't like not being in control of things, and we may not control death but destiny is within our hands

Epicurus said that our fear of death was the one thing holding us back from living lives of fulfillment and that we owed it to ourselves to seek as much sensation as possible, living up our moments while alive, before hitting the proverbial blank wall and oh boy he was so right

it isn't necessary to turn away from thoughts of death but neither is necessary to give these thoughts too much time (not that time is a real thing but let's not talk about that rn). we sometimes put so much pressure on ourselves trying to achieve something to feel good about our lives.. (and that can led us to incredible things of course) but what i want to say is that we don't need to achieve something in order to feel happy or had lived a good life, and sometimes we forget that hehehe choosing happiness with what you have right now rather than gatekeeping your happiness behind constantly moving goalposts of ¨success¨

as the great Jim Morrison said: we live, we die and death not ends it

so yeah it doesn't matter if you believe in past lives, just black wall after death or hell and heaven, bc all that matters now is the present baby so relax your shoulders and be mindful

[andreabaideas]

Djats review of non fans aka my Dad part II

Dad reviewing things: Daisy Jones and the Six part II 

Warning : my father lacks of filter and takes no bullshit, so brace yourselves for hard truths said by an older man almost at his sixties , sorry 59 XD 

Context : My mom and me forced my dad into reading and watching Djats....

AN = Authors note. // ?! = What?!! i dont agree.

Let's continue with the series rating : 7/10. 

*AN : I was surprised he liked It way better than the book tbh. 

He liked : 

- Faster pace than the book, It doesn't get boring.

- The interviews are far less used, "thank God for that."

- This story works better as a show cause IS very visual and sound centered. 

- The music , "Songs are total bangers not like that shitty urban music heard everywhere". 

- The songs are great, unlike their book counterparts, they felt like "Fleetwood Mac songs right?" XD. 

- The photography, the clothes and the vibe felt aunthentic (He remembers most of It, he was a kid). 

- Daisy's Cast. He said that she looked just how he imagined Daisy in the book. Very pretty and very talented as actress. Also her voice IS angelical. 

- He found Daisy to be very cheeky funny and likeable, even more than in the book, even if he liked her a lot in the book too, he said she was a "show not tell" type of character and she is imposible to stop watching in the show. 

- Billy's Cast. He said Finnick's (as my father knows Sam Claflin XD) singing is wonderfull and he looked like the 70's rock stars. Like a mix between Jim Morrison and Lindsey Buckingham!! XD. 

- Billy IS worse than the book (affectionately), he said that he seems to be portrayed the way he probably truly IS when unseen by her daughter. 

"Only reedeming qualities are that he IS played by Finnick , his singing voice and that awesome chemistry with Daisy" *AN: Dad his name is Sam Claflin " That surname Its too difficult he keeps the Finnick name" *AN : I tried. Daniel Radcliffe keeps being Harry Potter and Robert Pattinson Edward (Cullen) so XD. 

- Daisy's and Billy's chemistry. "They seemed to either want to fuck or strangle each other all the time" and were "entertaining to watch". 

- Daisy and Billy's relationship IS "physical which IS more realistic, I like It". 

- Simone Cast and her story changes , that "she IS more than just Daisy's friend" , "she is very pretty" , that "she IS lesbian and her story with Bernie Its just the cutest". Also her singing was very good and the disco music story and New York Gay context was cool to watch. 

- Bernie , he liked her a lot.

- Camila , he liked her better here (?!) because she IS "less saintly and IS far more realistic". Seemed "less fake and more angry ,and rightfully so!!" Though she kept having a "Golddigger vibe like Bianca Jagger" (*An : I dont know what he has against her But anyways...) But "at least she was likeable,  unlike the book" (?!)

- Camila Cast. "She is also way prettier and taller than I imagined her" , she is very pretty and reminds him to a "mix between Dua Lipa and that pretty Instagram girl thats always naked =*AN: "After asking him Who He talked about I discovered He meant Emily Ratajkowski XD". She IS a good actress... Wasn't she DiCaprios girlfriend or something? Yeah, they broke Up "Good for her, she deserves someone younger and better that DiCaprio, he IS too old for the girls he dates, looks like her dad, Its creepy" XD. 

- Graham Its likeable here, which IS better, cause in the book he was a "cunt". 

- Warren keps being Warren and IS latino, I like It. 

- Teddy being Alive more time. 

- Billy punching Nicky , he cheered at him, and said "Finnick punch him harder!!!" XD

- Daisy's overdose scene was very well done and very emotional, "they both should win something for It"... I told him they were Golden Globes nominated but didn't win. He said It was unfair.  

- Daisy's story changes, that she keeps singing and that she gets a daughter of her own. 

-Series ending, he loved It. Daisy and Billy got the Happy ending they deserved. 

- Eddie IS a loser at the end as he deserved. 

- That Billy relapses. 

- Karen Cast , "she is just way too pretty for what I imagined, but I like her vibes, prettier is better right?" "she looks 70's cool rock girl and i like her acting...Wait, Isn't she Edward's girlfriend? The one he got a baby with??" Yes, she is... "Lucky bastard got finally a good one? Good for him." 

What he didn't like : 

- That they didn't show Rods sexuality. 

- Daisy's parents are the worst.

- Eddie IS even more of a cunt. He IS annoying. 

- Camila and Eddie's affair 

- Camila IS less saintly and IS far more realistic but keeps being slightly boring to him. (?!)

- That the drugs use was slightly glosed over and glamorized. 

- Nicky Fitzpatrick IS the worst. 

- The age change and makeup aging that "fool no one" Graham keeps looking (as a 40) more like he just ended highschool XD

- Billy's straight hair, "It looks like a wig" (?!) He looks better and more rock with curly hair.

- That Billy was body shaved in the 70's? No sir, everyone was hairy Chebwacca style XD 

- Daisy's haircut missing in action. 

- He felt that Camila babytrapped Billy with the shotgun wedding and the guilttripped him into staying in their failed marriage. *AN: (??!!) A harsh one Dad!!!

- "She was the love of my Life"... He said It was bullshit, (?!) that then "why he talks about Daisy all the time" and "then runs back inmediately to Daisy the moment his wife died??" Then : "A man totally in love wouldn't do that, he stayed with Camila due to moral obligation after getting her pregnant with a baby (?!) not for LOVE (?!) which happened a lot in the 70's-80's , too puritans they were,sigh" ..."Hadn't she gotten pregnant , they wouldn't have been together (?!) he would have left her for Daisy, I got that in the book already, but here in the show Its 1000 times worse". *AN : I don't agree with him on everything. I agree on the puritanism thing, but the rest...Some yes some Noooo. Life's like that🤷‍♀️.

*AN: He said that Daisy and Karen shoulve just ran away together to the sunset and create a girlband with Simone and Bernie. (I kinda agree) The men didn't deserve any of them. (Agree)

He hoped that older!Billy would treat Daisy right though. 

Thats It!! Review ended!!!

I can't wait to do the Twilight and the hunger games ones!!! XD

[the-firebird69]

Adventures in PARIS | Visiting the Grave of Jim Morrison

My people have a copy of the list they know who was from my clan and who is from Hera her clan they know how many of my race and really it was s there who were genetically altered due to them being fairly powerful mutants and they were very dangerous to my kind more dangerous than the Max and the Max turned on them after they had them run the realm for a while to steal information and on their technique and to see if they can find us the using a different technique and finally to the computer. I want someone to secretly volunteer to simply inscribe on Stone and to hang it below their lists who actually died there that means you'll know what Max escaped and went to their ships to begin building for hundreds of years. This place gives me the creeps I don't like these cemeteries but it is a powerful reminder to me and Hera and mine of what happens if we fail. And this is a reminder to the morlock and to others who are resistance rebels or different races what can happen if you don't succeed. These are all like little houses and there's nobody there except sad memories that someone else has or happy but now they're sad they go there and my osmosis you start to feel very sad but with me it's different I can feel what they're feeling briefly and it's a nightmare people feel lost and alone and scared just not as much anger and hatred as she would think but they should be because that's going to help save us and this plaque will do that it's an empty hollow feeling and cold and people who built this place were bitter and angry with the entire human race except for their own race and they're very mean these Max built this place to do this to people

Zues Hera

It's all about them feeding their fat face and we're going to stop them this is an extremely powerful statement and I'm going to tell I'm going to tell Allison I'm going to make a presentation and he says we should make a museum in a replica and make sure they know it's a replica and put Jim Morrison there and show them what they think of his race we're going to put this up because it was mostly his race to die they're not his people and they had to hide and work and they had to kill a lot of Max they know a lot about it and and Apollo and got his wife are going to them to talk about them speaking and he agreed now and she did

Thor Freya

Olympus

We have to say this he's a very brave boy for saying this he wants to post it now so we're going to have him Frank Castle hardcastle it brings her tear to the eye but these people are very dangerous to us and the max were careless and doing what they did they have a program though it's very big it's vast all encompassing and it's very dangerous to us still because of their number Blockbuster we must cut them down now and we must continuously do so and we must begin now more so in our foreign counterparts have to get off their fat asses Apollo and goddess wife and I mean it right now we have to

We must be ready to take the reins of complete power and be ready for the foreigners to be useless or worse we need to raise our army to that level and right now

Zues

Hera

I would hear to this policy and I'm going to sound the alarm we're going to have a meeting of Olympus right now and we're going to sound the alarm

Thor Freya

[grantgoddard]

Give them a foot and they’ll take a metre : 1972 : Bill Beaver, Camberley & Alicante

It was the summer of rock’n’roll. Bill Haley. Buddy Holly. Chuck Berry. Fats Domino. The Big Bopper. Now, every time I hear one of their songs, I am reminded of a summer vacation never to be forgotten … for all the wrong reasons! Certainly, much of it had been spent lazing on a lounger beside a swimming pool, immersed in an interesting book I had brought along. However, my ears had been battered for days by continuous rock’n’roll, blasted at maximum volume from a tinny cassette machine leant against the wall of a Spanish villa’s veranda. This was not the preferred soundtrack of my teenage years.

At age fourteen, ‘oldies’ from a decade earlier already belonged to a bygone generation. I was obsessed with contemporary pop music and, since the occasion Jim Morrison had dropped his leather pants onstage, every Thursday a slice of my pocket money crossed the counter of a Frimley High Street newsagent for ‘Disc & Music Echo’, ‘Record Mirror’, ‘Sounds’, ‘NME’, ‘Melody Maker’ and ‘Blues & Soul’. I devoured their every word cover-to-cover, as well as teen magazine ‘Fab 208’ that my grandparents bought for older cousin Lynn but offered me a sneaked read. These publications’ preoccupation with the newest music (aligning perfectly with their most lucrative advertisers, the major record companies) reinforced my youthful music snobbery, as dismissive of rock’n’roll as I was of The Andrews Sisters.

Our family’s summer sojourn read like a rejected script for ‘Benidorm’. Following his impulsive visit to a Camberley travel agent to book a package holiday to Spain for the five of us, my father had handed me a pocket guide to Spanish, anticipating my fluency by the time we arrived. Although I shouldered the mantle of family administrator, this expectation proved unrealistic considering my recent struggle at school to learn French, where I had come bottom of the class during my first two years. As the teacher insisted on seating us in his classroom in rank order of our most recent termly exam result, I was placed in the front row due to my consistently dismal performances. By the time our charter flight touched down in Alicante, I had just about mastered Spanish numbers, greetings, shopping etiquette and the ordering of ‘steak and chips’.

Arrived at our hotel in the Albufereta district, the receptionist confessed that the promised restaurant and swimming pool were still ‘under construction’. Our two adjacent bedrooms on an upper floor lacked air conditioning and offered a view of only the hotel’s ongoing noisy building works. Daily pills my father took for high blood pressure had insufficient efficacy to stop him raising hell with the hotel’s management, to no avail, tipping his mood into a very un-holiday rage. To escape the confines of our half-finished accommodation, one hot afternoon we all trooped down to the beach, only for my months-old sister to put a handful of sand in her mouth. She cried, my mother panicked, my father shouted, screaming that he would never take his family to a beach again … a threat he kept.

After that incident, my father decided to hire a small Seat car so that we could explore Spain beyond the coast. One day he drove us inland to a random small village where we disembarked and wandered around in the heat of the blazing sun. It resembled a sand-blown ghost town from a television Western where everything was closed up, my parents having no knowledge of Spain’s daily siesta. The odd elderly person we encountered stopped what they were doing to stare pointedly at us, as if we resembled aliens arrived from another galaxy. They understood that only mad Brits and package holiday families came out in the midday sun. Feeling somewhat intimidated and having found nothing to do there, we retreated to the hire car to return to the ‘civilisation’ of our hotel.

My father tried to rescue our totally unedifying village visit by driving back along the picturesque Alicante seafront. Confronted by a small roundabout, he drove around it at his usual excessive speed in the wrong direction and collided with a car headed towards us. Nobody was hurt but the encounter caused visible damage to the front of both cars. The Spanish driver jumped out and understandably raged at my father, whose short fuse had been smouldering since the hour of our arrival. My translation skills were demanded, unrealistically as the pocket guide lacked a chapter on Spanish expletives. While the two drivers locked in verbal combat, the four of us sat on the low wall along the edge of the brightly tiled Alicante promenade. Passers-by stared. My baby sister was screaming. My mother was crying. The sun was baking us.

After a while, a police car arrived. My father was offered two choices. Either he could be arrested and taken to the police station to face a charge of dangerous driving, or he could pay the other driver to repair his car. While we remained sat on the promenade, my father accompanied a policeman to the nearest money exchange bureau to swap our remaining British ‘Travellers’ Cheques’ for Spanish pesetas. In the heat, it seemed like an eternity until he returned, paid the driver and we could all depart the scene of the crime. Our hire car was damaged but fortunately driveable, though there remained the problem of what to explain to the hire company at the end of our holiday from hell.

Our more immediate problem was how to survive the remainder of our fortnight now that almost all our money had been used to pay the angry driver. British credit cards might have launched in 1966 but had not been offered to families like ours. Debit cards would not exist until 1987. The limited amount of cash or Travellers’ Cheques you were permitted to take abroad had to be inscribed on the last page of your passport. Transferring funds from a British bank account to Spain, while you were in Spain, was an impossibility. During the following days, I escaped the worsening parental arguments at our hotel by finding a nearby newsagent where I would sit cross-legged on the floor for hours, looking through piles of imported DC comic titles never seen at home. I also found a record shop where I used pocket-money I had secreted to buy a Spanish 1971 James Brown picture-sleeve single (‘I Cried’) unreleased in the UK.

That summer’s rock’n’roll soundtrack was a consequence of my father’s solution to our predicament. While we would continue to sleep in our package holiday’s half-finished hotel, he had hustled an invitation to spend our remaining vacation daytimes at the nearby villa of one of his business associates. We lounged beside an Olympic-size outdoor swimming pool whose shallow end was bizarrely three times my height. The towering villa’s doorways were big enough to drive through a truck. Its rooms were the height of a church and the living room resembled a ballroom. We had traded our building-site hotel for a newly built mansion that could have easily served as a set for ‘Land of The Giants’ or the inspiration for a new ‘The Borrowers Abroad’ sequel.

The owner had purchased the plot of land, ordered a custom plan for a villa from an architect in Britain, brought the designs on paper to Spain and given them to local builders to construct during his absence. Returning only once it had been finished, he was astonished to realise that his plan’s dimensions in ‘feet’ had been misinterpreted as ‘metres’, resulting in the building and pool being three times their intended size. It was too late to remedy the error and too expensive to demolish it and rebuild. Planning regulations? What were they? The accidentally gigantic villa was there to stay … and we were now its guests.

It was the owner’s two sons, around a decade older than me, who had wired up a cassette machine outdoors to play their favoured rock’n’roll music. Though our three hosts hung around the villa and pool all day, they mostly ignored me quietly reading my book in the shade. Even the pool’s shallow end was too scary for a non-swimmer like me, however much they tried to persuade me to dive in. They were plainly enjoying their lazy, hazy days of summer on the ‘Costa del Dodgy’. I must have appeared quite a joyless nerd to them.

Our ebullient host Bill Beaver owned a successful car and truck dealership in Camberley, located on an expansive near-derelict triangle of land at the town’s western extreme. He lived in an old-style mansion named ‘Badgers’ Sett’ opposite ‘The Cricketers’ pub on Bracknell Road in nearby Bagshot. His accent was ‘Eastenders’ and his patter was pure Del Boy. My father had lately begun to forge local property redevelopment deals for which Beaver provided the cash, while he ensured local council planning approval for architectural schemes he drafted. My parents had uncharacteristically started hosting dinner parties for Beaver and his wife, despite my mother not warming to the couple’s brash ostentatiousness. My father probably hoped Beaver’s wealth would rub off on him … and, for a while, some of it did.

I had been pressganged into their joint enterprise to calculate the potential ‘return on investment’ of their projects, using my O-level maths studies to amortise the costs over varying numbers of years. One such development site was an anachronistic one-pump petrol station and car repair workshop that occupied a valuable rectangular plot on the busy London Road at Maultway North between Camberley and Bagshot. Owner John Sparks had inherited the business in 1966 upon the death of his father Arthur, though neither had updated its blue corrugated iron shack since 1926 when Arthur’s mother had purchased this large corner plot from the adjacent secondary school sportsground for her son to launch his one-man business.

Once I had calculated the viability of replacing the ramshackle building with flats, including the cost of removing the underground petrol tank and cleansing the polluted soil, the project was determined a ‘go’. However, we had not reckoned on Sparks’ stubborn refusal to sell. Beaver visited him. My father visited him. The Beaver sons visited him. Sparks remained intransigent. Their ‘persuasion’ techniques were evidently not working. Beaver purchased the Jolly Farmer pub on the roundabout opposite the Sparks site. One night it suffered a large unexplained fire. Sparks still refused to sell. In the end, the project had to be abandoned.

Like my mother, I was less in thrall of Beaver’s ‘entrepreneurship’ style than was my wide-eyed father, so the end of our disastrous two-week holiday in Spain and our farewells to his oversized villa came as a welcomed relief. On the flight home, I was seated next to larger-than-life Trinidadian bandleader Edmundo Ross. Despite already loving reggae and Brazilian music, my youthful snobbery regarded Ross as old-school due to his regularity on ‘BBC Radio 2’. Unaware of his fascinating life, I now regret not having chatted with him more.

A short time after our return to Britain, my father left us permanently to set up a new home with a teenage girl only a few years older than me. Our Spanish holiday seemed to have proven his last straw playing ‘happy families’. Children just got in his way. I had no further contact with the Beaver family … and I disowned my father.

In 1986, Tesco and Marks & Spencer jointly purchased a huge 76-acre site on the western fringe of Camberley to build two massive superstores (‘The Meadows’). The adjacent four-acre site, bounded by the London Road, Laundry Lane and Tank Road housed Bill Beaver’s open-air vehicle sales operation and was necessary to developers for a revised traffic flow system that included a new Sainsbury’s Homebase superstore. This plot on the far edge of town had suddenly become Camberley’s most valuable piece of land … to the benefit of its wily owner.

In 1990, John Sparks applied to Surrey Heath council for permission to build a bungalow (for his retirement?) on empty land at the back of his one-man garage. It was granted but never built. In 2014, seventy-eight-year-old Sparks retired, closed his business and sold the land to developer North Maultway Limited which demolished the workshop to build ten flats, for which planning permission was approved the following year. By 2017, the land had been sold to Seville Developments Limited which reapplied for planning permission to build nine flats. Two years later, this permission expired … leaving the former ‘Sparks Garage’ site derelict to this day.