An Open Letter to Jim Morrison…
I’ve always thought of you as the patron saint of the mojo — and the patron saint of my mojo in particular – since I was a little girl.
As you already know, just a few days after you passed away in the tub in Paris, I was born in a hospital far away in Pennsylvania, and I’ve imagined that we had some kind of cosmic connection ever since.
(To be honest, when I stood in front of your grave at Père Lachaise Cemetery, I kinda thought you’d affirm this by sending me a sign or something. But, I get it…you were probably doing some Lizard King stuff that day…you’re a busy guy. It’s cool.)
Anyway, I’m checking in with you today because I have a problem…I think I lost my mojo.
(And, if you’re really a part of me, then that means I actually lost OUR mojo, which is a pretty serious problem.)
I think social media maybe sucked the mojo out of me, Jim.
I was rolling along just fine, and then I got super swamped and now whenever I look at it all, it just exhausts me.
- I have no interest in kissing up to famous people and maintaining my social capital. I just want to talk about interesting things with interesting people.
- I have no energy for self-promotion, I just want to do the work and keep my clients happy and turn down the volume on the shill.
- I have no patience for douchebaggery, I just want things to work out like karma intends – good people who work hard and produce great work will have good things come their way.
(I know Jim; you totally spit your whiskey all over the floor on that last one. That one is naïve — I may be mopey here, but I’m not stupid.)
I’m no rock star, but I’m a little like you in that I’d rather burn out than fade away. Life’s too short to just like it – I want to love the hell out of it. But I need to get my passion, moxie and sass back to make that happen, and I’ll be damned if I know where I left ‘em.
Social media is a little like a stage that’s prepped, lit and cocooned in the hum of an eager crowd, 24/7 (you would totally have loved it, Jim).
It’s always show time, but you need mojo to jump on that stage every day and work the hell out of it (I know leather pants and lots of drugs helped you with that too…I’m afraid I’m gonna have to pass on that part though, but thanks for the offer.)
So, I’m reaching out through the digital daydream that is the Internet and calling out to the ghost in the machine on a virtual vision quest today.
Help me get my mojo back, Jim. I like social media, but I’d like to love it again. I just need a little push to help me break on through. I just need a little boost to get back up and ride the snake.
Thanks, Jim. Keep a cocktail on ice for me. I’ll see you when the music’s over.
Definitely shades of mojo! I’m still laughing over that second photo.
That said, every now and then, I just don’t feel up to social media. I usually take a day off to engage in the world around me instead of through a screen. Jim Morrison would probably do something more awesome, though.
Good point. (And I agree that Jim would have rocked the social media. Charlie Sheen thinks he’s cool? Jim rocked the crazy before Charlie’s crazy even was born 🙂
Maybe it’s time to trade-in your Jim Morrison power animal for a new one? Maybe one that ebbs and flows and ebbs and flows? Mine are the Gallagher brothers. When they’re on, they are on, but then they sink into the background, live off residuals, and put together a fantastic album for another huge surge of mojo.
Maybe you need to ebb and flow. You can’t be “on” all the time. It’s exhausting and causes burnout. Follow the advice of the Gallaghers:
You can’t go All Around the World as a Rock N Roll Star, living off Cigarettes & Alcohol without being able to have periods of time to just Be Here Now. If you can sustain that cycle, you can Live Forever. D’You Know What I Mean?
So yeah, you need a break. Calculate. Collaborate. Relax and rejuvenate. You’ll be back on stage shortly.
The Gallagher’s, huh? Very intriguing choice. (don’t they hate each other, incidentally? I suppose that’s neither here nor there. Also, at first I was thinking you were talking about Gallagher — of the sledgehammer and watermelon — and I was even more intrigued). I probably have post SXSW mojo suck as well. Nothing sucks the mojo like a giant convention 🙂
Oh, Jim. My favorite. I entered the world just 2 short weeks after he left it. I have stood in front of his grave twice and contemplated the meaning of Mr. Mojo Risin. Maybe you need some weird scene inside the goldmine to get your social mojo back. Or a stay at the Morrison Hotel. 😉
It’s spooky how much we have in common, Amanda.
Thank you interwebs for connecting the two of us. I think we were meant to be soul sisters 🙂
That is all.
LOL. I adore you so much, now I’m almost afraid to meet you in person.
Don’t be intimidated, I’m only one man. Albeit one pretty awesome one. 🙂
Cool. And feel free to like fall over or say something dorky when we meet. It’s important to humanize the awesomeness for us little folk.
I’ll have a completely unplanned stumble or pants rip waiting.
You know, Morrison had his moments of wanting to pull out of the social space, too. “People are strange/when you’re a stranger/Faces are ugly/when you’re alone/Women seem wicked/streets are uneven/when you’re down.”
Here’s a bit of trivia: Mr. Mojo Risin’–sung over and over again in “L.A. Woman”–is an anagram of Jim Morrison.