Before we get to an indepth book review, a little bit about my weekend: we didn't do too much. Headed to Danna and Rick's place in White Plains on Friday night. We ended up getting there pretty late, and I was dead tired. I pretty much was driving by memory after we left Hartford, I was so dead tired.
Saturday, we just hung out. That's the cool thing about going to their place, we don't do much, but it's nice to get out of Boston and to relax and just unwind. At night we ended up going out to dinner with their friend Tim Zanni and his fiance Kristen. Tim is quite a few years older than me, but he seemed cool. A little bit arrogant, which I guess comes from pulling down $2 million a year in salary, but he was a cool guy.
Kristen was about my age and she was really cool. Aside from being a Yankee fan, he really knows his baseball, so it was interesting talking to him about how his team is going to do and his perspective on the Sox. He (like Rick) aren't typical Yankee braggerts, they love their team, but keep it cool. BTW, Tim's father was a pitcher in the major leagues, here's his baseball-reference page:
Looks like he was pretty much a middle-relief guy who didn't get into a lot of games.
Sunday, we did even less and were on the road by 2:00 pm. We were home by about 5:00. The one thing that sticks out about Sunday is that I finally saw "Rosemary's Baby". Yeah, I know, where the hell have I been for the last 30 years, but it's not like it's run ad naseum by HBO. Aly and I caught it on AMC. Very cool flick, sort of hokey in some parts, but Mia Farrow did a tremendous job acting and Roman Polanski did an awesome job directing.
Much like "On the Road", I'm sure this movie had a bigger impact in the time it was released. A lot of the "twists" could be seen coming a mile away, but in 1966, I'm sure it was revolutionary and unexpected. Should there be a remake of this flick? I think it would be cooler with the same story but with a bit more suspense and less of an emphesis on the cartoonishness of the next door neighbors.
I don't normally do this, but I had the same dream two days in a row and it's sort of bugging me. Actually, it's not the same exact dream, but it has the same theme. On Thursday I dreamed that I was a member of the 1979 Baltimore Orioles and it was the seventh game of the World Series against the Pirates. I get called in to keep a late inning lead and I can not find the plate. The ball is going everywhere. I throw as hard as I can and it bounces ten feet in front of the plate. Then I'm trying to aim it into the mitt. I wake up feeling completely freaked out.
Friday night, I was asleep and I found myself in a New York Mets uniform. It's the present day and I'm in Spring Training trying to make the team. Again, I'm a pitcher and I'm trying to show the squad my stuff but I'm bouncing everything and I start resorting to aiming the ball, which results in the opposing hitters crushing everything. Again, I wake up concerned.
Why I am dreaming about this? One of two things: on Wednesday I read an article about Rick Ankiel, who completely melted down in a playoff game and was never the same pitcher since. That day he announced he is going to try and become an outfielder. The only other thing I can think of is that I'm worried that I'm going to fuck something up.
On Saturday I finished my latest book, "Jim Morrison: Life, Death, Legend" by Stephen Davis. Aly gave this to me for Valentine's Day, and it was probably the best present I've received in a while. Just a tremendous book that actually left me sad that it was done. Usually, when I am under 100 pages left I start reading quicker so that I can get to the next one. Here, I actually read slower because I didn't want it to end.
I'm not sure how the rest of the band like it, I would bet that Ray Manzereck didn't like it too much, but Davis did a fantastic job piecing Morrison's life together in a way that wasn't too boring (which is hard to do) or over the top. He seemed to tell it the way it was, without any appologies. He did bring up the possibility that Morrison was a homosexual and also brought up that everyone in the band hated him and that Jim hated them. Previously, I thought that only John Densmore despised Morrison, but it turns out Robby Kreiger didn't particularly care for him as well.
This book rekindled a sort of Doors renassiance with me. There are six bands that I have been completely obsessed with: Living Colour, Public Enemy, the Doors, the Beastie Boys, Led Zeppelin and Pearl Jam. Each time I hear a song from one of these groups, I instantly go back to where I was when I was really into them. But of all six, the Doors were MY band.
There was a time in college where Jim Morrison was my idol so much that I would try and lead a debaucherous life like him. It didn't work, I never had the balls to really go all out like he did. Which is both good and bad. Bad, because I've never lost complete control of myself for a long period of time. Good, because I didn't end my 27th year as a fat, bloated, drug-addled corpse.
While there was more than one side of Morrison, most people only saw the drunk asshole that was more pitied than glorified at the end of his life. It was quite a sad existence actually. And while I still have a great deal of respect of the man and his work, his life is not something that I would want to lead. Morrison always talked about "A feast of friends", but often times at his banquet table he was joined by sicophants and hangers on. The dregs of society.
The book managed to inspire me a bit more in my writing and hopefully within the next few entries I will try to be a bit more creative and less factual, I did this, this and this sort of log.