A Million Ways To Spend Our Time

Part 1: A Concert and A Restaurant

I could hear nothing bout the deafening, spinal sounds of the drumbeats coming from inside the door ahead of me. Tempted to knock, but finding it rather pointless, I waited there, carefully absorbing the music within.

"When the music's over

When the music's over, yeahhhh

When the music's over, turn out the lights, turn out the lights, turn out the lightsssss

When the MUSIC, IS YOUR, SPECIAL FRIEND

DANCE ON FIRE AS IT INTENDS

MUSIC IS YOUR ONLY FRIEND, UNTIL THE END."

My past echoed the meaning of those words. Music had always been my voice, my muse, my sanctuary, and now in this song another person apparently felt the same. I had to somehow get past this door to see just who they were, but I was just a shy, inexperienced nerd. How could I ever get in?

"Pardon me, miss."

A man's voice interrupted my daydream. I looked up at him, my eyes meeting a man who had a somewhat large nose and face and a good lack of hair. I could tell he desperately wanted me to move so he could enter the door ahead of us.

"Oh, I apologize. Excuse me."

I stepped out of his way hastily and awkwardly, trying to appear collected. I later figured out that this man was Paul Rothchild, a producer for a band called The Doors. Little did I know just how many doors they were going to open for me.

Even after several days had passed, I still could not get my mind off of that wonderful music I had heard. I overheard that there would be an upcoming Doors concert in Los Angeles at California State, and I was ecstatically planning to attend with my friends in tow.

It seemed that everyone in California was trying to get into the front gates ahead of us to see The Doors. The October skies presented a gray overcast, providing the audience with a distinct gloomy haze necessary to fully absorb the music. It seemed all kinds of people were there, from preps and jocks to hippies to blue-collar workers. Once we were all seated, we waited with anticipation for the band to take the stage.

Finally, the show was in full swing,and the band began with that familiar tune, "When the Music's Over." My eyes transfixed upon Ray Manzarek's face as his eyes closed as both hands attacked the Fender Rhodes. Never before had I seen such graceful movements accompanied by such power and staccato. Robby Krieger's bottleneck blues guitar began to scream in agony, as John Densmore provided the backbone of us all with his steady, booming heartbeats from the drums. Straight from the shaman, I heard Jim Morrison's voice put blood back through my veins, in a soft, cooing wail that if unleashed had the power to take you into captivity. We were speechlessly silent, perplexed by this whirlwind of sound and emotion. I couldn't help but notice Jim's beautiful chocolate locks of curly hair, and the solemn gray tone of his eyes. Ray's eyes were closed in concentration, and Robby's eyes focused on his fingers as they slid up and down the frets. The Crystal Ship took us all on a journey through the elements of air and water, in our case without the help of acid. The End felt truly like the end of an era, as a generation and of former loves and mindsets. When the concert was over, we all stood up, unable to bounce back from what we had just witnessed. Everyone silently exited the building, unsure of what to say. We said our goodbyes and got back into our cars, forever changed mentally.

Several weeks passed, and it was back to the bumbling bustle of college life at UCLA. I was enrolled to study fine art and journalism, and already had past experience in oil painting, watercolors, and writing poetry and stories. I had always felt compelled to be an artist or a writer, bored by the everyday nine-to-five white-collar lifestyle. Nevertheless, college life did not come free, and I had been offered a job at The Lucky U, a local Mexican cafe in Venice Beach. I was to report to work the next afternoon after my classes were over. In hopes of a positive turnout,I turned in early that night, nowhere near ready for what the next night would bring.