During a stage performance, Jim as the Dionysian reveler sang the modern myths and as the shaman he invoked a sensuous panic to
make the words of the myths meaningful. He acted as if a concert were a ritual, a ceremony, a seance, and he was the medium
communicating with the supernatural. He tried to shock people out of their seats, out of their ruts, out of their minds so they could view
the other side of reality, if even for just a brief glimpse. His message was: break through anyway you can, but do it now. Often the
message was unfocused and so it got lost in the music, the myths, the magic and the mania.
For many years, Jim was like a living mirror, reflecting whatever stood in front of him. If you looked forward to meeting Satan or a wild
man, Jim could give you a good rendition of either one. If you expected Prince Charming, he could be chivalrous and dashing. Intelligent
folk saw him as smart; bozos figured he was one of the bunch. Nice people knew Jim as pleasant and clowns asked him to join their
circus.
Jim always gave you back at least as much as you gave him. He always gave a good count and never short-weighted anyone. But in the
last years of his incredible life, he ceased being other people's image of him. He changed, he developed new skills, he put on weight,
grew a beard, shaved it off and grew it back again. He began to dislike performing in large halls and finally decided not to do it anymore.
He became himself. His personality and his physical appearance were not transformed for the same purpose that a chameleon changes
colors to blend into the environ- ment. Jim changed on the outside because his mind was evolving into new levels of awareness.
It was the final transition into James Douglas Morrison, Poet, that most confused and alienated his fans. They wanted him to stand still,
to be forever the leather-limbed dark angel. For Jim that would have been as intolerable as wearing a mask to a fete and never again
being able to remove it.
Almost all of his friends, and most of the journalists who chronicled his actions, saw Jim's lifestyle as self-destructive. But looking at it in
the light of the ancient oracle/poet tradition, his lifestyle could be called self-instructive: a way of learning about the nature of things by
risking the derangement of the senses. It was his occupation and vocation. He did it the way he did everything, without reservation and
to the extreme limit of his abilities.
Frank Lisciandro 1982
An Hour For Magic
During a stage performance, Jim as the Dionysian reveler sang the modern myths and as the shaman he invoked a sensuous panic to make the words of the myths meaningful. He acted as if a concert were a ritual, a ceremony, a seance, and he was the medium communicating with the supernatural. He tried to shock people out of their seats, out of their ruts, out of their minds so they could view the other side of reality, if even for just a brief glimpse. His message was: break through anyway you can, but do it now. Often the message was unfocused and so it got lost in the music, the myths, the magic and the mania. For many years, Jim was like a living mirror, reflecting whatever stood in front of him. If you looked forward to meeting Satan or a wild man, Jim could give you a good rendition of either one. If you expected Prince Charming, he could be chivalrous and dashing. Intelligent folk saw him as smart; bozos figured he was one of the bunch. Nice people knew Jim as pleasant and clowns asked him to join their circus. Jim always gave you back at least as much as you gave him. He always gave a good count and never short-weighted anyone. But in the last years of his incredible life, he ceased being other people's image of him. He changed, he developed new skills, he put on weight, grew a beard, shaved it off and grew it back again. He began to dislike performing in large halls and finally decided not to do it anymore. He became himself. His personality and his physical appearance were not transformed for the same purpose that a chameleon changes colors to blend into the environ- ment. Jim changed on the outside because his mind was evolving into new levels of awareness. It was the final transition into James Douglas Morrison, Poet, that most confused and alienated his fans. They wanted him to stand still, to be forever the leather-limbed dark angel. For Jim that would have been as intolerable as wearing a mask to a fete and never again being able to remove it. Almost all of his friends, and most of the journalists who chronicled his actions, saw Jim's lifestyle as self-destructive. But looking at it in the light of the ancient oracle/poet tradition, his lifestyle could be called self-instructive: a way of learning about the nature of things by risking the derangement of the senses. It was his occupation and vocation. He did it the way he did everything, without reservation and to the extreme limit of his abilities.
Frank Lisciandro 1982
An Hour For Magic
