Anyways, here’s something I was in the middle of writing when the site crashed…
The brilliance of his films aside, Twin Peaks came along for me at a perfect time - had just started art school and met a lanky, curly haired kid named Dave aka Young Cone who become my partner in crime and ally in pushing against the art school rhetoric (mainly by getting sideways stoned and skipping classes and lectures).
I had to travel almost 2 hours to college each way each day to attend but Dave would often invite me to crash at his apartment. It was here that I was introduced to 2 things that changed my life forever, Cone’s gigantic bucket bong that took pride of place in his living room, and Twin Peaks every Tuesday night.
It was these nights completely blitzed and inhabiting the world of David Lynch’s imagination that I will remember most about my time in college. It was such a treat - a surrealist gift that spoke to us in ways that we assumed many wouldn’t understand (despite millions watching the show ha).
I was asleep this morning when my wife came into the room (she always gets up first) and she announced “your friend died today”. Of course that panicked me as I thought she was being literal. When she told my it was Lynch I wasn’t too sad because I pictured him laying serene and at rest, much like the states he often inhabited during his beloved meditations and I knew he had left the world in a better place upon his leaving it than it was before he arrived.
It’s been a week of mourning here. It’s hard to calculate the influence of Lynch on my life, and didn’t expect to be hit so hard by his passing - old dudes dies every day after all.
Been watching lots of Lynchian stuff over the last few days. This scene and music is imprinted on my brain and is perfect!
“Groupies don’t come up to me because I’m the old man,” said Hudson (who ranged from three to six years older than the rest of the group). “It’s usually too much hassle. Unless, of course, it’s a day of spring in the middle of winter, but those chicks—it’s just not real. God bless them just the same.”
On hundred percent. I just said the same thing. The most honest autobiography I think I’ve read. She had to choose between Mick Jagger - the countries biggest pop singer - and heroin. She went for the drugs. She really did it properly.
They say ‘Why D’ya Do It’ was the record that turned the cogs in Blackwell’s mind on what to do with Grace Jones and the sound he was trying to achieve.
I remember reading in Paolo Hewitt’s Small Faces book - The Young Mods forgotten Story - the time Steve Marriott and Ronnie Lane met Marianne Faithful whilst tripping on LSD. I think they were in a lift or something and Marianne entered and she freaked them both out because of her ‘mad Jam Tart red lips’
