"Sometimes I fantasize
when the streets are cold and lonely
and the cars they burn below me,
don't these times fill your eyes?" Made of Stone - The Stone Roses
Jackson Pollock and The Stone Roses; can't think of one without the other.
I'm a diehard Roses enthusiast. That first album was true love for me.
I was just standing there on the corner of 3rd and Broadway in NYC, clutching a bag containing the toilet paper I had purchased (I just ooze glamour don't I?), when the infamous Monkey Man jumped out of a cab and straight to me.
He smiled and said "Hullo".
I nearly dropped dead. I suppose if I would've actually done so, and my head splattered in a nice Pollock pattern, maybe he'd have taken it as a sign to reunite with the other talents that made my coming up years that much more meaningful.
How do you come together for such a masterpiece and then let it all go to shit? How do you touch upon something that brings so many to awe and then just smack it away like a loathsome mosquito?
I could ask Pollock the same, I suppose, were he here.
