Jim Cherry's Blog, page 10

Words to the Ether

Words to the Ether

I

I wanted to give you the world you want.
I gave you words & worlds
To believe.
You returned those gifts
w/ gilded ignorance.

There is no faith
For the faithless.


II
I grew up in an ideal world,
I played in the grass,
The tree’s
& the streets.
I looked to the stars
& dreamed
Of the world to come.
I was brought magic.
This Eden was childhood
I want to return to that Eden,
But I can’t.

III
I was brought magic
By the words
Of my ancestors
& it changed me forever.
You know their names
Carved in your mind
Waiting for me to join them.

The Doors Examiner: The First Time!

I write The Doors Examiner (www.examiner.com/the-doors-in-nationa...), which I've written for the past 6 years, I was able to compile articles of the first 3 years for a book "The Doors Examined". In June of 2014 I made it to the top 10 most widely read writers for The Examiner, and in June 2015 I made it to the top 5 music writers. As of this morning (March 24, 2016) for the first time I was the #1 music writer for The Examiner!

I want to thank all those that have read The Doors Examiner and supported the column. If you're a Doors fan I hope you'll check it out and if you like it please subscribe. If you have friends that are into The Doors I hope you'll pass along the information to them and encourage them to check it out and subscribe. There are a lot of cool articles over there six years worth!

Again, thank you all who have read and supported The Doors Examiner, and I hope you'll check out my other writing.

Keep rocking!

Jim Cherry
Writing under the influence of Rock ‘n’ Roll!
www.jymsbooks.com

Work in Progress Excerpt: Strictly From Hunger!

This is an excerpt from a work-in-progress- "Strictly From Hunger" which is about John Morton and his band Hunger! which was one of the biggest bands on the Sunset Strip in 1968. In this excerpt Morton and a bandmate meet and go out with Pam Courson, Doors lead singer Jim Morrison's "Cosmic Mate".

A Night Out with Pam Courson

One of our songs, “Colors”, came about because we met Pam Courson at The Whisky. She came back stage and I just figured she was a groupie wanting a piece of the band. She said her name was Valerie Sunshine (this may not have been unusual for Pam in an article about her boutique, Themis, Pam used the pseudonym Pamela Roselilly). She told us she wasn't interested in sex but she had some LSD she wanted to share and go down to Santa Monica beach. Mike Lane and I said, "What the hell! Why not!" We were done with our set and it wasn't the first time we spent late hours with chicks getting high.

Me, Valerie, and Mike walked on the beach in Santa Monica. The night was perfect on the beach, full moon and turquoise ocean with beautiful waves rolling in. In the distance you could see the lights on the pier. Valerie was like a goddess in a white lace see through blouse and an airy short white skirt with long red hair. She was running and skipping on the sand like a carefree child. She just breezed through the air, floating like a leaf, a beautiful white leaf. Valerie had that magical quality that just drew you in, it was her night. We were all high on Blue Owsley one of the strongest mind altering acid you could take. Some people experienced peace and calm, others experienced wild and frantic abandonment. If we had been with anybody else it would probably have been the later. Valerie was just this innocent soul who wanted to share herself. At least that's how I was envisioning her as an angel passing through time that just so happened to catch the attention of two wiley musicians. She was magical. All of sudden the intensity of colors just emerged from nowhere. She smiled and said" can you see how fantastic the world is?" She looked at Mike and me and said, “Create me a song!” We looked over at the pier and flashed on the beautiful lights and colors and watched the waves roll in simultaneously from the turquoise sea under a bright moonlit sky and Mike Lane sang "lights flashing, images before my eyes, people turning finally/all the colors in the world have come from me.” How profound in that moment, I finished with “try and realize what life is worth if you don't have a disguise.” At that moment there was a full orchestra at my command and the music just flowed in, the violins and strings just resounded as if I was conducting the song. Valerie said "Bravo! You did not let me down!" Valerie Sunshine had made an unforgettable night! Who would have thought we would of experienced something greater than sex? It was as orgasmic as it gets. She then became the mad hatter and said “I'm late! I'm late for a very important date.” We drove back to The Whisky and Valerie said as she got out of the van, "in the real world my name is Pam---Pam Courson.” Then she disappeared into the crowd.

The next day as we were rehearsing we put together our new song “Colors.” It just came together seamlessly, guitars, keyboard and vocals. The song instantly became part of our set list. I didn't put two and two together till years later that Pam Courson was Jim Morrison's girlfriend. That night in 1968 I'll always remember her as Valerie Sunshine.

New Reviews

I've received a few new reviews for both The Last Stage and The Doors Examined. Let's start with The Last Stage since it's a bit older and doesn't get as much attention as it used to.

Adrienne G. from Portland, OR a rock writer herself posted this review on Amazon "What a Ride!" http://www.amazon.com/review/R7ZU1R9T...

A reader calling himself Jazz also posted this on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/gp/customer-rev...

Thank you Adrienne and Jazz for taking the time for reading my book and the reviews!

Let's not leave out The Doors Examined, it's still popular with readers and has recently pulled in 4 new reviews. The first from Kerry in WI, http://www.amazon.com/review/R326WI96...

Julia from CA, wrote "A Man Who Knows His Stuff" http://www.amazon.com/gp/customer-rev...

And the aforementioned Jazz also reviewed The Doors Examined: http://www.amazon.com/review/R3EY8UT0...

And finally Tom from OK, posted "A Must Have" http://www.amazon.com/review/R17B37BI...

Again, a big THANK YOU! to all those who took the time to read and review the books. All my books are available on Amazon. More information on each book is available at my website www.jymsbooks.com and if you have friends, family or associates who may be interested in my books please pass this on to them!

Jim Cherry
Writing under the influence of Rock 'n' Roll!

Xmas

I don't have many stories that fit into seasonal themes. Here's one story that is in Stranger Souls, trying to adapt modern situations into a seasonal revelation. How'd I do?

XMAS
Merry and I were sitting around in her room listening to Rolling Stone’s and Marianne Faithfull albums. Merry was sitting on her bed with her legs tucked up under her, a magazine in her lap, her head bowed over it. She looked either as if she were praying or about to go off on the nod. Her anorexically thin arms were scarred over from where she had etched Nazca like lines. The Stones and Marianne Faithfull were two of her obessions. I could only guess at the others.

I was sitting on the floor, picking at the label on my beer, watching her not talk to me, wondering how I got myself into this. It had been my idea to get together. I wanted to tape some stuff off her albums, I’d finished that, but that was only the reason I got in, the excuse. I’d been trying to figure out what her trip was for a while. Was I her boyfriend? Did I want to be? I wasn’t sure. She alternately attracted and repelled me, and at the moment her personality was the diametric opposite of her name. But I didn’t really care about that or any of the other things. What I wanted to do was get up on the bed and fuck her, but she was never interested in sex, which had got me wondering about her in the first place. Then there were her parents, out there, looming somewhere beyond the closed door. In my imagination her mother was right outside the door ready to pounce at the first untoward sound.

My imagination was starting to get the better of me. It was beginning to feel as if time had stopped in here, you couldn’t tell it was Christmas Eve. I was intent on escaping a family gathering and the intrigue it included. I’d heard all my uncle’s stories and what they thought of each other, and it was starting to feel like the hypocrisy of the season. I took a final swallow of my now warm beer that I had been nursing for an hour, or at least what had felt like an hour.
“You should try Sushi,” she said, suddenly.
“What?” I asked, the words felt foreign, then I recognized what the words meant. “Oh, yeah, I’d like to…some time. Do you want to get another beer or something?” I asked, now not really concerned if her mother was right outside the door or not, I just needed to get out of that room to make sure the rest of the world still existed. It was beginning to feel like a matter of survival. She picked up her glass that had contained Jack Daniels and looked at it and made the major discovery it was empty.
“Yeah, sure let’s go.”

When she opened the door there was a moment of decompression, relief. In the living room, everything was as I left it when I had come in. The Christmas tree stood blinking and glittering in a far corner, with a nativity scene under it, the presents set around it with care. Manufactured frost limned the edges of a bay window. Facing the tree and the TV her father sitting in a brown recliner watching “It’s a Wonderful Life” for god knows how many times that night, a highball on an aluminum TV tray at his side.
‘The perfect Christmas scene,’ I thought to myself. It looked like he hadn’t moved since I’d gone into Merry’s room, or maybe it was a remnant of the time distortion I’d been feeling. He didn’t say anything as we walked by and into the kitchen.


The kitchen was warm and filled with the smell of golden baking breads. I had brief flash of my mother baking for a Christmas past, the smell of cinnamon and yeast in the air, her hands dusted with flour and the sticking remains of dough. Merry’s mother was preparing their Christmas dinner. I quickly sat down at the kitchen table not wanting to take a chance that Merry may want to beat a hasty retreat back to her room. She took the bottle of Jack Daniels off the top of the refrigerator.
“You want some?” She asked me.
“No, just a beer would be cool.” She handed me one of the beers I had brought with me, put some ice in her glass and poured herself another Jack Daniels. I had planned on being drunk by now, but thanks to Merry’s preoccupation with whatever magazine she had been reading I fell behind. I took a couple big swallows of the beer not only to catch up but to relieve some of the tension, or at least something that felt like action.
“So, John,” Merry’s mother said, “what are you doing for Christmas? Are you having any relatives over?” I wondered if she was just being conversational, or was it a subtle motherly hint that I should be leaving soon?
“No,” I said, starting to pull nervously at the edge of the beer’s label, “on Christmas Eve we all go to my grandmother’s, all my aunts and uncles are there, we have dinner.”
“Oh, what do you have?”
“Uh, usually roast, shrimp, lots of baked things.”
“That sounds nice. Merry’s aunt Susie is coming tonight.” Merry finished her drink and got up to get another.
“You want another beer?” She asked from the refrigerator.
“No.” I said, tilting up the half filled beer I had left. Her mother looked concerned.
“Merry, shouldn’t you go easy on that, you’re starting to get drunk, what’ll John think?”
“Mother, it’s Christmas, and this is only my third one.”
“And the two before John got here.” I felt the room pressurizing.
“Haven’t I given up everything else?” My ears perked up, I was pretty sure the “everything else” was heroin. Merry had always talked about heroin like she had some personal experience with it. She’d get this faraway mystical look in her eye like she was recalling some long lost love. When I’d ask Merry about it specifically, she’d become elusive. “This is the only thing I have left.”
“Yes, honey, I know and we’re all proud of you, but it’s not polite to get drunk in front of your company. And you don’t want to be drunk when your aunt arrives, do you?” Her mother looked more concerned than angry, but Merry was glaring at her mother. Was this a last stand, or just another clash in a continuing war between them? When had it started? When Merry was a child? When her main armament became heroin? I tried to fathom what pain had caused Merry to try and numb it out with heroin. Her family didn’t seem that much different from mine, a comfortable home, and nice things, and her mother seemed caring. The room was quiet as they stared at each other in concern and defiance. I was afraid to move for fear the chair might squeak, and their attention and stares would focus on me. I was starting to feel trapped again, with a door in plain sight, but so far away. If I could make a break for it could I get through the door before they wrestled me back into the chair? I downed the rest of my beer so I would have a reason to get out of there. I realized I didn’t want to know the answers. Better my family, and skirmishes I understood. My family seemed downright functional to me.

I put the empty beer down HARD. “Well,” I said, awkwardly, “I better go.”
“Are you sure? You don’t have to go.” Her mother said, “you’re welcome to stay, Merry will get out of this mood.” Merry stood there defiantly.
“No, really, I have to go,” I said, “to my grandmother’s, they’re expecting me.”
“Here take the rest of your beer,” she said, opening the refrigerator.
“No, that’s all right,” I said, just wanting to beat a hasty retreat.
“Well, have a Merry Christmas, John.”
“You too. Merry Christmas.” As an after thought I added “I’ll see you later Merry.”

I walked out into the yard. The world was different now, it was snowing hard and had been for a while everything was covered with the first snow of the year. I tilted my head up and watched the snow falling out of the void of the night, it was dizzying. I felt the cool flakes as they landed and dissolved on my skin. There was preternatural silence as if nature itself realized the solemnity of the night. I felt warm, I wanted to run, make snow angels, build snowforts, have snowball fights, the pressure that was inside had lifted. It felt like the moment existed outside of time, if I just stayed here time would stand still and the moment would exist forever, but I realized it couldn’t, sooner or later reality, time, life would reassert itself. I walked to my car, and stopped wanting the moment to last just a bit longer. I listened to the silence of the falling snow. It was Christmas.

Fiction

Here's a short story I ran across looking for a different one. I had forgotten I'd written it (it seems I wrote it about 6 years ago) but I thought it kind of cool.

Fiction
By Jim Cherry

One of Jim’s students raised their hand.
“Yes?”
“Mr. Cherry, why aren’t you a writer?” The student was talking about the stories he read in class, stories of his youth, stories he’d written when he did have literary ambitions, and he’d had adventures to make into stories. Once he had opened the sluice gates of his imagination where he wrote so hotly that he had to carry notebooks around with him so the words wouldn’t get away from him. Stories all his friends told him were great and that he should write a book. He did write a book, a novel, and now it sat in his “files,” an affectation he picked up from his literary hero’s. But he didn’t work on it any more. He hadn’t read it in a long time, he didn’t even think about it much any more.
“I did write a little,” he said, answering the girl’s question. “But I discovered as a writer I was a much better teacher, and that it was more rewarding teaching you guys about Hemingway and Fitzgerald.” He wondered if the answer satisfied them. He wondered if the answer satisfied him.

He closed the door of his apartment behind him and he turned on the TV. Some people sat in bars nursing their broken dreams drinking, trying to forget the promises of their youth, their promises to themselves. Others drowned that misery in a sea of possessions, a big house, all the best cars, stereos, Blu-Ray players, iPods all that money can buy. But television was his drug of choice, it numbed him. Numbed him against the flood of images from his subconscious, quieted the riot of voices that sought release through him.

The television flickered vacant images against the wall of the next room, Jim fell across his bed like a sailor washed ashore on a desolate beach. He stared up into the milky blankness of the ceiling. He closed his eyes and hoped for sleep. The lives of his literary hero’s their shadows cut deeply across his life and imagination, he lived their adventures, attended their parties, loved with them, he could see the far off life he dreamt of for himself. His new book being released by a major publisher to critical and popular acclaim, being interviewed by the major newspapers and magazines, the interviewer hanging off his every word. Book signings with a line of people trailing through the store, all waiting for him. The movie deals for his books sitting on his desk waiting for him to sign. The lunches with agents and attorneys and when his cell phone rang excusing himself and taking the call.

He could also imagine the fantasy of the writer. When he had a few minutes to himself to think, he imagined for himself a life as a teacher, teaching plan laid out if front of him, safe in the security of teaching of those he admired, safe from the ire of critics, no publishers demanding his new manuscript, he dreamed of how he should have taken the simpler path in life.

Jim woke up, in that night he dreamed all the possible futures, living those lives to their fullest, reveling in their glories while feeling their failures. The poetry of these fictions and truths gone like a ghost in the morning light of the rational. He sighed and realized he was still here, it was still his life, he had to get ready for work again, to teach. It had all seemed so close, so real, like he could almost touch that other life, that he could insert himself into that life, but it was dream, it melted like sugar in the realization it was a little wish fulfillment displayed like a movie flickering against the walls of his movie mind. Or was it? Maybe this life was the dream? A waking dream of the writer of what his life could have been like? He heaved another sigh. He didn’t know. Metaphysics bows before reality or at least before the work a day world. He had to push such dreams to the side to get dressed, go to work, teach kids, and all day wondering which was the dream? And which was the fiction?

The New Reviews are here!The New Reviews are Here!

The New reviews are here! And just in time for Christmas! Here are reviews on "The Doors Examined", "The Last Stage" and "The Captured Dead" which have recently been posted on Amazon,

The Doors Examined

“…Filled with historical facts and anecdotes, this book goes much further than just simply Doors information, it's a treasure trove of music history and culture ranging over the last 50 years. It ties together connections that I never dreamed existed…” - Amazon Customer

“…This is one of the more objective accounts of the group and their infamous lead singer that I have read. Cherry not only provides interesting and lesser-known anecdotes about the history of the band, he also gives an in-depth perspective of the cultural milieu that gave birth to The Doors and to the era which they were such an integral part of (60s/70s)…” - William Cook, author Blood Related

“…it's nice to open a book in a different format, with a different angle for a change : it's not in sequence, it's a selection of articles grouped thematically that one can read in any order. Vignettes that are as many facets as the snakeskin Jim was referring to in a 1970 interview with Salli Stevenson. Take a look at one of them, and here's another story for you to read. 'The Doors Examined" is also very factual - there's very little room, if any, for the mythology or urban legends. One thing that also makes "The Doors Examined" original is its emphasis on the Doors' legacy in modern culture…” - Dimitri

“Encyclopedia of rare information. I loved learning about who Jim Morrison influenced in ballet,visual arts, and music.Hopefully there will someday be a expanded hardcover of this.Weldon Kees is cited as a influence of Morrison I had not earlier heard about.” - Victoria Nicholson

“I found this book to be a refreshing change from the books typically written about The Doors because Mr. Cherry doesn't just focus on Jim Morrison, but includes the other members as well and the events that they ALL were involved in.” - Tavia

“This book includes some of the author's online writings from his column "The Doors Examiner" along with material seen here for the first time….A huge amount of information is packed into this book…Those new to The Doors' would find this book to be a good starting point. However, there's enough here that even very knowledgeable fans will likely find something new.”- Denise R.

it's a compilation of articles written over time, I believe, and the various sections of the book are laid out in a more encyclopedic form to maximize an easy search for particular tidbits. I thought I knew a lot about the Doors, but, I found a surprising amount of new information in this book, and I found this book sent me 20 or more times to the internet to look up more about influencers and influencees, L.A. bands, photographers, etc. One night I watched an entire feature movie I'd never seen, and last night I spent hours pouring over the websites of famous rock photographers this book directed me to.

"...Best of all, I was hoping to shake off my rather romanticized view of Morrison, hoping to find some of the reality behind the myth, and I think I did..." Tracy Reilly

The Last Stage

“New look at the world of celeb impersonation.This would be a great read for a teenager. The dialogue was very believable and how people speak…” Victoria Nicholson

“I just finished reading this book. I loved it! The story might have been fictional, but it could also be reality. The way Jim told it it was like seeing the world through Micheal Gray's eyes, like living what he was living, having the same experiences. I've gotten lost in a book before, but never actually felt as if I were experiencing what the characters were experiencing.” - Tavia

An absolutely incredible book! Love how the writer brings about a very believable story and truly makes it REAL!…”An Avid Reader

The Captured Dead

“For a short story such as this, which can be read in one sitting, Jim Cherry manages to pack a lot of stuff in. Set in Comancheria, 1874, this novelette blends fact and fiction in a masterful way, where you’ll find: the tortures of the soldier’s human psyche, the atrocious attempted annihilation of the Native Indian, realities of the Civil War, concepts of mysticism and questions about insanity. You’ll also find a damn good little ghost story.” - Harry Whitewolf, author of “The Road to Purification: Hustlers, Hassels, and Hash”, and “Route Number 11: Argentina, Angels, & Alcohol”.

Wonderful story. - Linda

If you're looking for a Christmas present for The Doors fan, the rock fan or the reader in your family all of the books are available at Amazon, and still plenty of time before Christmas to order!

Crete, IL, Library Presentation

November is here! and the Crete, IL Library will be hosting my presentation of "The Doors Examined" on November 9, 2015 at 7pm.

For more information go to the Crete Library's website (http://www.cretelibrary.org,)see the cool slider they put up on their home page for the event. Click on the slider and you can register for the free event. The hour and half presentation will include an introduction to "The Doors Examined" some background on the band, whether The Doors are still relevant almost 50 years later, a question and answer period and more! If you can't attend or know someone who might be interested please forward this email to them.

The Captured Dead - sales are doing well, and although a ghost story it is available on Kindle, Kobo and their supporting devices for only .99!

Best wishes!
Jim Cherry
Writing under the influence of Rock ‘n’ Roll!
www.jymsbooks.com

The Captured Dead Now Available!

"The Captured Dead" is a novelette set in Comancheria in 1874. William Tecumseh Sherman, the hero of the Civil War is in the American West to get 'renegade' Indians on a reservation or kill them. One band, lead by the shaman Isatai decide to summon the dead to fight Sherman.

“Jim Cherry's The Captured Dead is an innovative and eerily diverting tale based on the conflict and mass murder, both of man and beast, that formed the dreadful essence of mid-19th century American history. The story centres on the almost mythical mercilessness of General William Tecumseh Sherman; a characteristic that ensured his Civil War victories and was employed in later campaigns to suppress Native Americans, either by restricting them to reservations or through extermination. Cherry's tale takes place in these later years of frontier conflict, when echoes from Sherman's past mental breakdown and the potent mystical practices of his Indian enemies make a literally haunting combination.”
Jay Jeffery Jones, playwright and author of “The Lizard King”

Available in Kindle and Kobo edition and Nook Book soon!

Want a Free Book?

I just learned that on Amazon, that if you have 20-25 reviews Amazon will include the book in its "Also Bought" and "You Might Like This" lists. I'm close on two of my books, The Last Stage and The Doors Examined. If you would like a copy of either or both books I'll be glad to send them to you in exchange for a review on Amazon (Goodreads too!). Just message me with your name and mailing address and I'll send them out to you! Here's a brief synopsis of both books.

The Last Stage - Michael Night is an aging professional student looking for a way out of a small town, and away from a loving girlfriend who increasingly wants more from him. And he's also a Doors fan with ambition. But he doesn't know how to act upon it, or even admit them to himself, until, inspired by friends who tell him he looks like Jim Morrison, and a chance meeting with Ray Manzarek he takes a chance on his dream and starts a Doors cover band. He sidetracks a band on their road to fame, and together they experience the exhilaration of being a Rock n' Roll band on tour, from the long hours, the agents, the travel, the groupies, record company executives and the growing ego of Michael Night, until they're offered the gig of their Rock n' Roll dreams. On the road Michael meets and falls in love with Caitlin Stewart, daughter of legendary guitarist Jerry Osprey, but she doesn't trust his motives, does he truly love her, or is she a career move for Michael? Or even a collectible? They're carried to the doors of stardom when the band plays in Los Angeles where Michael meets former child star Jimmy Stark who shows him the monster fame, celebrity and stardom can be, crashing studios and parties Michael assembles an entourage of has been's and wanna be's . Then Michael Night and the band meet their destines on the stage of the Whisky a-go-go! And when it's all over Michael Night is afforded the last stage he has.

The Doors Examined - A compilation of articles written for The Doors Examiner. The Doors Examined explores all aspects of The Doors their history, their pre-history, profiles of people in The Doors circle, reviews of CD's, DVD's and books released by or about The Doors, and follows the band members in the present day lives.

Thank you!

Jim Cherry
Writing under the influence of Rock ‘n’ Roll!
www.jymsbooks.com