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If I end it now I will just be a memory in a few weeks

I once promise you that i would stop but you ended up breaking your end of the deal. Now im here alone with the only thing that makes me feel anything

AS I LOOK BACK As I look back over my life I am struck by post cards Ruined Snap shots Faded posters Of a time, I can’t recall I am Scot, or so I’m told. Really The heir of mystery christians Snake in the Glen The child of a military family… I rebelled against church After phases of fervor I curried favor in school And attack’d the teachers. I was given a desk in the corner I was a fool & the smartest kid in class. Walks in D.C. in negro streets. The library & book stores. Orange brick in warm sun. The books & poets magic Then sex gives greater stimulation Than you’ve ever known and All peace & books lose their charm And you are thrown back on the eye of vision. History of Rock coinciding w/ my adolescence Came to LA to film School Venice Summer, drug Visions Roof top songs Early struggles and humiliations Thanks to the girls who fed me. Making Records Elvis had sex-wise mature voice at 19. Mine still retains the nasal whine of a repressed adolescent minor squeaks & furies An interesting singer at best a cream or a sick croon. Nothing in-between. Road days, fear of Plane death And night was what Night should be A girl, a bottle, & blessed sleep I have ploughed My seed thru the heart of the nation. Injected a germ in the psychic blood vein. Now I embrance the poetryof business & become - for a time - a “Prince of Industry” A natural leader, a poet a Shaman, w/ the soul of a clown. What am I doing in the Bull Ring Arena. Every public figure running for leader. Spectators at the Tomb- riot watchers Fear of Eyes Assassination Being drunk is a good disguise. I drink so I can talk to assholes. This includes me. The horror of business The Problem of Money guilt Do I deserve it? The Meeting Rid of Managers & agents After 4 yrs. I’m left w/a mind like a fuzzy hammer Regret for wasted nights and wasted years I pissed it all away american music End w/ fond good-bye and plans for future Not an actor writer-filmmaker Which of my cellves will be remember’d Good-bye America I loved you Money from home Good luck, stay out of trouble ~ Jim Morrison, 1971. Wilderness.(Poem written in Paris, France)

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Simone de Beauvoir, from a letter to Jean-Paul Sartre (Paris, 21 February 1941)

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