Drugs Are A Bet With Your Mind…

I have joined a fantastic group of ladies, who are involved in a weekly blog project. Every Thursday, we will dazzle you with our insight on various topics. And each week, we take turns coming up with the idea for the blog topic. Please check out their blogs as well, listed under my Blogroll section. Just click on:

Froggie (Tracey): An experiment in knitting, writing- and life

Merry Land Girl (Melissa): Tales of a suburban mom who likes to talk about pop culture, books, Judaism, family, friendship and anything else that comes to mind.

Mom Of Many (Susanna): One Mom’s perspective on life, raising kids, knitting and other unrelated topics.

Melissa’s topic this week: “If you could travel back in time to meet a past celebrity crush, what time period would you travel to and who would you want to meet? Describe how you would meet them and share something you would say to them.”

We all feel at one time or another, as though we belong in another era. Maybe it’s the roarin’ 20’s. Or the dapper 40’s. For me, it’s the 60’s. I would have been a flower child. I would have been at Woodstock. When I’ve watched footage from the 60’s, I imagine myself there, traveling in a Volkswagon bus, flashing a peace sign with a crown of flowers criss- crossed into my hair.

I was in middle school when a friend introduced me to Jim Morrison, and The Doors. She had an old record some relative of hers lent out, and we listened, and I was deeply engrossed and intoxicated. We listened to “Touch Me”, and I felt the stirrings of youth gone mad. I felt naughty.

From what I’ve read, he was brilliant. It seems many times, those that are brilliant burn out fast, as was the case for Mr. James Douglas Morrison.

It would be so easy for me to say that I’d like to travel back in time and meet him at a concert. I’m not discounting that. However, if I were given the opportunity, we would meet over poetry, and we would discuss the world and come up with something amazing. It would have been incredible to write with him. I picture some remote coffee house where the beatniks would chill out, and we’d be seated somewhere in the corner, amidst other free thinkers.

I am sure his life was dirty, and rough. I have read about his indiscretions. But who was he really?
 

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