Thursday, January 3, 2008

Sorry, NYE and Elevators (the good kind)

A few things...
As is obvious here and to all my friends and family, I'm a gigantic flake about getting pictures I've taken out into the world. I apologize. I'm an a-hole. But as Tupac says, "that's just the way it is..." or wait was that Bruce Hornsby?

This NYE was a hugemungous, lame time. I'm sure you will agree. There have been better. I spent the whole night driving Miami -north to south and back, mostly- and not appropriately drinking. I hoarded a bottle of expensive champagne, sucking it down at midnight, but ended up sharing it, recognizing that it might intoxicate me into the "Champagne French Zone," where I think I'm fluent and try to speak to everyone in French. Not a cute or coherent sight. I'm glad it's over and we've entered this exciting new year. Let's just pray that 2008 brings liberal politics into power. Maybe we could reelect Jimmy Carter?

Last night I saw the documentary, You're Gonna Miss Me, about Roky Erickson of the 13th Floor Elevators. It's hard to explain how I feel about the actual story here. I thought the movie was great, the editing interesting, the cinematography was intense... Two thumbs up.
I just thought the Ericksons were such a disturbing, yet familiar, group. Roky was sentenced for like 4 years to a high security mental hospital with rapists and killers for possession of a small amount of marijuana. Which proves that although Austin is cool, and Hill Country is beautiful, Texas can be a really demented place (Waco, Bushes, etc.). What really intrigued me was the commentary about pharmaceutical psychotropic drugs. I mean, he's nuts, they won't medicate him, then they give him meds, he's functioning, then they take him OFF the meds and THEN grant him independence, criticizing the medication of crazies (this part was in the post script). His brother (a highly functioning crazy) declares that there is no such thing as mental illness... and then the director shows poor Roky, whose nerves are clearly racked, twitchy as hell, in the courtroom, neurotically biting or licking his lips, blinking hard. I mean, I guess my point is that I just think that his family could recognize that the meds helped him and were necessary at some point (and probably still are).
Anyway, he's a brilliant performer and what a voice-- I love the Elevators. I wish I could see him at Coachella, but it's sold out. I love psychedelic rock, man. Peace.

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