It was, yes, a Jim fanatic who led me to visit the grave. We had parted ways in volatile fashion before my trip. He’d expressed a lifelong desire to visit Jim’s grave. I wasn’t sure whether a casual photo of it would be a peace offering, or a taunt. I was, truth be told, quite fine either way.
His closest friends at the time were those people who excel at throwing those parties that spill out of an artist's canvas of a house and should only exist as an amphetamine slideshow held together by ragged descriptions in Brett Easton Ellis novels.
In the space of thirty seconds I’ve gone from being bored to horny to a tragic figure whose only true love is dead.
Riders On The Storm was the only Doors song 7BU ever played. My mental image of the singer was someone like the Marlboro Man crossed with the God of the Old Testament. All-seeing, all-knowing, powerful but not necessarily prepared to intervene.