James Douglas Morrison (1943-71), poet, shaman, lead singer for dark psychedelic and blues group The Doors, and someone who really knew what material to use for trousers. Had talent and a half. Knew the writings of Huxley, Nietzsche, Artaud and William Blake. Had a rocking good life. If he hadn't swallowed so much of his own bullshit, not to mention such vast quantities of alcohol and at least one particular dose of opiate, he might have had a lot more of it. Buried at a modest site in Pere Lachaise, Paris. Since then his grave has become a Mecca for saprophytic potheads who have spread graffiti far and wide, desecrated his memory and pissed off the surviving relatives of those buried round about.
by Fearman April 13, 2008
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