Status: Done!
Love Hides (in the Strangest Places)
1. Hello, I Love You, Won't You Tell Me Your Name?
As I stood in the crowd I watched Jim Morrison writhing on stage as he yelled "Fuck you!" in the song The End. It was my first Doors concert and I was excited as hell. Someone passed a joint around and I took a drag. This was gonna be a night to remember. I stayed still, swaying to the music, held captivated by Jim's deep, smooth voice. I listened to the poetry in the songs, and the meaning behind them. I kept my eyes closed, letting the music be the only thing in my mind. When The End was over I felt eyes on me and I opened mine, looking up at the stage, seeing Jim Morisson's deep and dark eyes set on me. I stared back. Jim Morisson was the man of my dreams, I'd known it ever since I'd seen him on the Ed Sullivan Show and he'd created havoc by saying the line "Girl we couldn't get much higher" after the producer told him he wasn't allowed. He was deep, and meaningful, and needed someone who understood him, not like his downer girl Pamela, all she ever did was yell at him.
After The End was over Jim spoke,
“Ah, ladies and gentlemen, I don't know if you realize it, but tonight you’re in for a special treat.” The crowd cheered, “No, no, no, not that, not that! You only get that treat on full moons.” Cheers, “Besides, I know there’s a lot of young people here, and I wouldn't want anybody to think that I want to screw them tonight.” Jim’s eyes flashed to me, “The last time it happened grown men were weeping. Policemen were turning in their badges.” The crowd cheered again, “Oh, I get, I get it. Everyone was intimidated tonight by all the security precautions an’ everything. Ah…” cheering, “well, just remember their motto is "Protect and Serve".”
The song began:
“I wanna get
Close to you, baby, like black on white.
Close to you, baby, like the coldest of ice.
Close to you, baby, like a siamese twin.
Close to you, baby, like I'm feeling alright.
I wanna get close to you, baby,
Well, close to you, baby.
Close to you, baby,
Till I don't know what to say or do.
I wanna get
Close to you, baby, like the sight of your eye,
Close to you, baby, like the heat is to fire,
Close to you, baby, close as I can get,
Close to you, baby, like water's wet.
I wanna get close to you, baby,
I said close to you, baby.
Close to you, baby.
Till I don't know what to say or do.
I wanna get
Close to you, baby, till I'm feeling alright.
Close to you, baby, gonna love you all night.
Close to you, baby, and to New York City.
I love you so much, woman, you know it's a pity.
I wanna get close to you, baby,
I said, close to you, baby.
I wanna get close to you, baby.
Don't know what to say or do. Well.
I gotta get closer and closer, baby.
Closer and closer, babe.
Closer and closer, baby.
Closer and closer, baby.
I gotta get close to you, baby.
Till I don't know what to say or do.
Well, closer and closer, baby.
Closer and closer, baby.
Closer and closer, baby.
Closer and closer, baby.
I wanna get close to you, baby.
You know, baby, we love you.
And I'll make him feel alright,
Make me feel alright,
Make Robbie feel alright,
And you make John feel alright,
And make Jim feel alright,
And we wanna love you so much too,
I don't know what to say or do
Alright!”
The whole song he was staring right at me, and I could only stare back. It felt as if I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. As if he was staring straight into my heart. After the show I saw Jim give a slight nod of his head in the direction of the backstage. When the crowd dissipated I took a deep breath and walked over to the backstage. The bodyguards let me in right away. I walked slowly down a long hallway, coming to the end where I heard music and girls giggling. The band was standing at the far wall and girls were surrounding them, mostly Jim. I walked in further and could feel my heart jumping in my chest. Oh my god, I thought to myself. I tried to blend in and took out a notepad from my shoulder bag and a pen and made my way over to John, Robby, and Ray. They looked kind of surprised when I walked up to them. I smiled nervously and asked them,
“Can I get your autographs?”
“Of course.” They all said happily in unison.
“You know,” Robby started, “it’s not very often that we get this much attention.”
He laughed.
“Ya, I guess not. I don’t know, I don’t listen to you guys because of Jim. I listen to you guys because you’re poetic musicians. No one has such talent as you in my eyes.” I said nervously.
“Wow. Thanks, man.” John smiled, handing me back the notepad.
“Umm, there’s still one other signature you need.” Ray said.
“Oh, no, that’s fine. You don’t have to.” I tried to say.
“It’s no problem. JIM! Come on over here.” Ray yelled.
Oh god, I screamed in my head.
Jim looked up from the crowd of girls and his eyes instantly lay on me. His eyes did that thing again where I felt I couldn’t move. He slowly walked through the crowd of girls and came to a halt in front of me. He took the notepad out of my hands and then the pen from over my ear, his knuckles lingering by my cheek, and scribbled on the page. After that he was gone. Jim, John, Ray, and Robby left the room, John, Ray, and Robby waving good bye to me. I looked down at the page which held the signatures of John Densmore, Ray Manzarek, and Robby Krieger. But where the name Jim Morisson was supposed to be I found a note. It said:
Meet me out back. – James
Oh my god, I thought again in my head and let out a large breath. Once again I walked down the long hallway, stumbling in my daze. I guess it didn’t really matter if I wanted to go out back or not, my car was in that direction. So when I stepped out into the cold night air I was startled by those dark, captivating eyes.
“Hello.” Jim said.
James is Jim Morisson’s real name. That’s what he wished people would call him, because that’s his poet name. That’s what he is, a poet, I thought.
“Hi.” I whispered, trying not to look in his eyes.
“You were the only one not going crazy in the crowd tonight, or ever. Why?” he questioned me.
“Because, you can’t fully hear the music when you’re yelling and jumping about. You can’t hear the poet behind the rocker. You have to listen carefully.”
“What makes you say I’m a poet?”
“Because, only a poet could put such words together and make them sound good. Every one of your songs has a hidden message in it, James.”
Jim looked at you, startled at the sound of his name.
“You call me James?”
“Of course, that’s your name, isn’t it, the name of a poet?”
“No one, not even Pam, calls me James.”
“That’s a shame. It’s a nice name.”
“Why do you actually care about the music? No one else does. Why aren’t you like everyone else?”
“Aren’t people allowed to just be themselves? You should know all about that James.”
“What’s your name? I want to say your name. You keep saying mine, I want to know yours.”
Oh my god, he wants to know my name, I thought. I want to hear him say my name.
“Elanor.” I said quietly, secretly hoping he hadn't heard it.
“Elanor.” He repeated and my heart jumped, “I like that.”
I couldn’t help but smile. I normally didn’t like my name but now I was okay with it.
We stood there talking for a while and I found out that he was 25, which I kind of already knew, and I told him I was 21, and in my 2nd year of university, training to become a journalist.
“Journalist, the musician’s worst enemy.” Jim laughed.
I laughed slightly, coming out of my shell a little.
“I really think I should be going, my roommate will be getting worried.” I lied.
My roommate would probably be in her boyfriend’s dorm, fucking his brains out like usual, but I needed an excuse to get out of the sight of those dark, piercing eyes.
“Could I see you again?”
“You may, if you ever come back to do another show.” I smiled my most seductive smile.
“Could I get your number?”
“I don’t think that would be the greatest idea.” I laughed.
“You’re killing me, woman.”
“Good, I like to keep my men on their feet.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes, really.” I said, before walking away, heading in the direction of my car. I turned around once more and saw Jim still standing there, mouth agape. I yelled back once more,
“See ya ‘round, James.” I said, putting emphasis on his name.
After The End was over Jim spoke,
“Ah, ladies and gentlemen, I don't know if you realize it, but tonight you’re in for a special treat.” The crowd cheered, “No, no, no, not that, not that! You only get that treat on full moons.” Cheers, “Besides, I know there’s a lot of young people here, and I wouldn't want anybody to think that I want to screw them tonight.” Jim’s eyes flashed to me, “The last time it happened grown men were weeping. Policemen were turning in their badges.” The crowd cheered again, “Oh, I get, I get it. Everyone was intimidated tonight by all the security precautions an’ everything. Ah…” cheering, “well, just remember their motto is "Protect and Serve".”
The song began:
“I wanna get
Close to you, baby, like black on white.
Close to you, baby, like the coldest of ice.
Close to you, baby, like a siamese twin.
Close to you, baby, like I'm feeling alright.
I wanna get close to you, baby,
Well, close to you, baby.
Close to you, baby,
Till I don't know what to say or do.
I wanna get
Close to you, baby, like the sight of your eye,
Close to you, baby, like the heat is to fire,
Close to you, baby, close as I can get,
Close to you, baby, like water's wet.
I wanna get close to you, baby,
I said close to you, baby.
Close to you, baby.
Till I don't know what to say or do.
I wanna get
Close to you, baby, till I'm feeling alright.
Close to you, baby, gonna love you all night.
Close to you, baby, and to New York City.
I love you so much, woman, you know it's a pity.
I wanna get close to you, baby,
I said, close to you, baby.
I wanna get close to you, baby.
Don't know what to say or do. Well.
I gotta get closer and closer, baby.
Closer and closer, babe.
Closer and closer, baby.
Closer and closer, baby.
I gotta get close to you, baby.
Till I don't know what to say or do.
Well, closer and closer, baby.
Closer and closer, baby.
Closer and closer, baby.
Closer and closer, baby.
I wanna get close to you, baby.
You know, baby, we love you.
And I'll make him feel alright,
Make me feel alright,
Make Robbie feel alright,
And you make John feel alright,
And make Jim feel alright,
And we wanna love you so much too,
I don't know what to say or do
Alright!”
The whole song he was staring right at me, and I could only stare back. It felt as if I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. As if he was staring straight into my heart. After the show I saw Jim give a slight nod of his head in the direction of the backstage. When the crowd dissipated I took a deep breath and walked over to the backstage. The bodyguards let me in right away. I walked slowly down a long hallway, coming to the end where I heard music and girls giggling. The band was standing at the far wall and girls were surrounding them, mostly Jim. I walked in further and could feel my heart jumping in my chest. Oh my god, I thought to myself. I tried to blend in and took out a notepad from my shoulder bag and a pen and made my way over to John, Robby, and Ray. They looked kind of surprised when I walked up to them. I smiled nervously and asked them,
“Can I get your autographs?”
“Of course.” They all said happily in unison.
“You know,” Robby started, “it’s not very often that we get this much attention.”
He laughed.
“Ya, I guess not. I don’t know, I don’t listen to you guys because of Jim. I listen to you guys because you’re poetic musicians. No one has such talent as you in my eyes.” I said nervously.
“Wow. Thanks, man.” John smiled, handing me back the notepad.
“Umm, there’s still one other signature you need.” Ray said.
“Oh, no, that’s fine. You don’t have to.” I tried to say.
“It’s no problem. JIM! Come on over here.” Ray yelled.
Oh god, I screamed in my head.
Jim looked up from the crowd of girls and his eyes instantly lay on me. His eyes did that thing again where I felt I couldn’t move. He slowly walked through the crowd of girls and came to a halt in front of me. He took the notepad out of my hands and then the pen from over my ear, his knuckles lingering by my cheek, and scribbled on the page. After that he was gone. Jim, John, Ray, and Robby left the room, John, Ray, and Robby waving good bye to me. I looked down at the page which held the signatures of John Densmore, Ray Manzarek, and Robby Krieger. But where the name Jim Morisson was supposed to be I found a note. It said:
Meet me out back. – James
Oh my god, I thought again in my head and let out a large breath. Once again I walked down the long hallway, stumbling in my daze. I guess it didn’t really matter if I wanted to go out back or not, my car was in that direction. So when I stepped out into the cold night air I was startled by those dark, captivating eyes.
“Hello.” Jim said.
James is Jim Morisson’s real name. That’s what he wished people would call him, because that’s his poet name. That’s what he is, a poet, I thought.
“Hi.” I whispered, trying not to look in his eyes.
“You were the only one not going crazy in the crowd tonight, or ever. Why?” he questioned me.
“Because, you can’t fully hear the music when you’re yelling and jumping about. You can’t hear the poet behind the rocker. You have to listen carefully.”
“What makes you say I’m a poet?”
“Because, only a poet could put such words together and make them sound good. Every one of your songs has a hidden message in it, James.”
Jim looked at you, startled at the sound of his name.
“You call me James?”
“Of course, that’s your name, isn’t it, the name of a poet?”
“No one, not even Pam, calls me James.”
“That’s a shame. It’s a nice name.”
“Why do you actually care about the music? No one else does. Why aren’t you like everyone else?”
“Aren’t people allowed to just be themselves? You should know all about that James.”
“What’s your name? I want to say your name. You keep saying mine, I want to know yours.”
Oh my god, he wants to know my name, I thought. I want to hear him say my name.
“Elanor.” I said quietly, secretly hoping he hadn't heard it.
“Elanor.” He repeated and my heart jumped, “I like that.”
I couldn’t help but smile. I normally didn’t like my name but now I was okay with it.
We stood there talking for a while and I found out that he was 25, which I kind of already knew, and I told him I was 21, and in my 2nd year of university, training to become a journalist.
“Journalist, the musician’s worst enemy.” Jim laughed.
I laughed slightly, coming out of my shell a little.
“I really think I should be going, my roommate will be getting worried.” I lied.
My roommate would probably be in her boyfriend’s dorm, fucking his brains out like usual, but I needed an excuse to get out of the sight of those dark, piercing eyes.
“Could I see you again?”
“You may, if you ever come back to do another show.” I smiled my most seductive smile.
“Could I get your number?”
“I don’t think that would be the greatest idea.” I laughed.
“You’re killing me, woman.”
“Good, I like to keep my men on their feet.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes, really.” I said, before walking away, heading in the direction of my car. I turned around once more and saw Jim still standing there, mouth agape. I yelled back once more,
“See ya ‘round, James.” I said, putting emphasis on his name.