I watched a documentary called "Two Headed Cow" that my father taped and brought along on a visit from Detroit. It is about Dexter Romweber of The Flat Duo Jets, a band that I adored for their zeal and "spinning out of control and looking bad-ass while doing it" style. In all honesty, I ran away from home at 16 and moved to Athens, GA thinking maybe we could be best friends. It didn't pan out. When we did meet and I told him this anecdote he told me, "Well girly, sometimes shit don't turn out like you plan." Then he downed his whiskey and got on stage.
Now he is calmed way down and medicated. He is medicated because it hurt to be so loose and open. But gone too is that hot spark that drove the people wild.
It has been asked, "If Van Gogh was medicated, would he have painted Sunflowers?" And of course the answer is, probably not. And he may not have cut off his ear either.
I guess it just brought up a lot of emotion in me, knowing that wave that is incredible and creative and destructive and painful all at once. And you know, what do you do with that? We each choose. And I recognized that I liked him better wild because it saves me the trouble of living it myself. I want to watch and be inspired, but I'm not the one cutting myself open wide on stage. Ya know what I mean?
