Jim Morrison filmed Pamela Courson in a cemetery in Corsica, France in 1971.  It's beautiful footage.

Somebody left a disparaging comment on this video yesterday.  Some chick.  She maligned the song, but said that the film was up to her standards.  I deleted the comment immediately.  That spirit is everything I left the U.S. to get away from.

It also happens to be what the song is about.  Why are humility and self-awareness so hard to come by these days?

The song is a blow-by-blow account of a dream I had about a friend of mine and a girl he was sleeping with, but didn't care about.  In hindsight, I can see what he meant.  But because I was deceived into believing she was actually different, and not a joy-consuming byproduct of a prideful society, I pursued her.  Because my interest in her was engineered, forged in hell by demons with a plan to destroy everything, I "succeeded."  What a joke.

It wasn't worth it.

I had no idea who Russ Taff was before I watched this video, but I believe it is essential viewing for anyone who is a victim of verbal, emotional, and religious abuse, and who has found solace in excessive use of chemical intoxicants.  He is proof that the scenic route to Heaven does exist.  Which I find extremely encouraging.  

"The older I get, the more I cry," he says.  Be very, very careful what you say to people.  You never know who you're talking to.  That includes comment sections, which is perhaps the cheapest, most-worthless form of communication ever devised by man.  Be careful with your words.  We've all succumbed to the temptation to enlighten idiots in a comment section from time to time.  Don't do it.  Not only because, in all likelihood, they're not really idiots, but because you will be eating their joy.  Which is to say, you'll be blocking their progress toward healing, and maybe even the truth.  Nevermind any damage you'll be doing to your own soul, which will not be insignificant.  You will be making yourself into the antagonists in the song, the people who believe it is their Divine (read: infernal) Right to "destroy the peace of mind, and eat the joy" of people who may still be dumb enough to believe faith isn't wasted in you.  Because, if you believe you can enlighten, say, songwriters in the finer points of something about which you know less than nothing, not only is the song about you, but faith in you is, indeed, completely wasted.  You are like the soldiers in Dances With Wolves, who wipe their ass with love, poetry, and art, and who aren't worth talking to.

If you don't listen to people, don't expect them to ever speak to you again.

So be careful what you say.  If you believe you are enlightening people by tearing them down, it's possible that narco clowns are more desirable neighbors than you are.  Watch your mouth.  Eat your own joy, before you stick your fingers all up in someone else's.  You have no idea how tenuous their happiness is.  It may be held together by nothing more than exhaustion, or inertia.  Tread lightly.  I weep every day.  Not all day, but every day.

Be careful what you say to people.

And hey,

If the legalistic, sex-obsessed social-engineering projects in your miserable little consignment shelf of a culture are idiots, they're not going to listen to your hateful, transparently-narcissistic attempts to enlighten them anyway.  Here I am tearing you down.  Are you listening to me?  You do know that mirrors can be used for things that are more than merely cosmetic, right?  You are aware that the long-term effects of eating other people's joy is a lifetime of empty misery, followed by an eternity of hellfire, aren't you?

You do know why God called me out of the U.S., don't you?

Proverbs 16:18.  That's right.  The scenic route to Heaven is only scenic because of the mistakes of the people on it; reveling in the scenery (which is infernal by the way), rather than being tormented by it, is an indication that one is not on the path to Heaven.

As they say in Spanish, "To God."

Good luck.

Eat Your Joy

I walked into the coffee shop
my friend was standing there
he seemed happy to see me
it was like he didn't care

We talked awhile with open hearts
everything was clean
then he said, yawanna know the secret?
I said, whaddaya mean?
He said,

     You gotta learn to eat your joy
     you gotta learn to eat your joy
     if you love me, man,
     you'll let me destroy
     your peace of mind
     and eat your joy

We watched a video on his phone
of a girl and a song
I recognized you right away
and everything went wrong

You were sitting on a bed
covered in lyric sheets
rearranging the symbols like puzzle pieces
and then you looked at me
and said,

     All I wanna do is eat your joy
     all I wanna do is eat your joy
     if you love me, babe,
     you'll let me destroy
     your peace of mind
     and eat your joy

I snapped out of it and said goodbye
but my friend was nowhere in sight
in bewilderment I walked outside
into the inexplicable night

I tried to go home
but I lost my way
I could not make sense
of the vision of you
sitting on the bed
like a sexy consequence
singin',

     All I wanna do is eat your joy
     all I wanna do is eat your joy
     if you love me, babe,
     you'll let me destroy
     your peace of mind
     and eat your joy

©2014 Nathan Payne