joe strummer, ladies and gentlemen. i've been having a hot fling with joe for most of the summer. thanks to the miracle of video sharing, i've been able to see great footage of him on stage with the clash. he's so hot, so intense... completley invested in his art, yet detached and locked in some private introspective rebellion. (mmm, what the hell am i talking about?) before i get too analytical (or recklessly poetic) i'll just say that i love the sound of his voice, i love his energy, i love his face, and i love to watch him work. and its a queer thing to discover someone after they're dead. i felt similar things as a child, reading my mother's thick cream canvas-bound copy of norman mailer's 'marilyn,' and becoming bewitched by her image, only to be told she was dead long before i was born. wooing a ghost is a tricky thing... how carnal do you let your thoughts get? something tells me mr. strummer wouldn't mind if he knew i was still down here, imagining him and myself in a torrid groupie situation. or maybe he liked boys? i don't know... i don't know him very well. but i like what i see, and perhaps more importantly, i like what i hear. sweet dreams, joe. god bless you.
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