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Jim Morrison of the Doors was, to me, a fatalistic doom & gloom merchant with some fanciful ideas with a huge ego who took far too many drugs and whose best thinking killed him at too young an age. He overdosed and was found dead in his hotel bathtub in Paris in 1971. I was in Paris and had a few days off to see the sights and being a Doors fan long ago, I wanted to see where the self styled "Lizard King" was buried. I had an idea that it was in the vicinity of Paris, that's all, but felt that since he was such an acid/ peyote/ mescaline soaked mystic, perhaps clues to his place of rest would be found in his often obscure, sometimes weird lyrics. I started to remember snatches of his songs- "Our love will become a funeral pyre" came up first but was no help as Jim was not cremated. However, "Wild child/ full of grace/ savior of the human race" hinted that he was buried near playwrite Oscar Wilde. "Ride the snake to the lake" was only vaguely helpful: there are not many snakes or lakes in Paris I am aware of, but I guess it was Jim's venacular way of being cosmic: he meant that a vehicular road journey was required. "Break on through to the other side" said to me that I should simply aim for Paris' outer arrondissements. "Ride the king´s highway west, baby" said he was buried near a maternity hospital on a major road named after a Bourbon King on the west side. It seemed like it was all falling into place.
But to my knowledge there were no cemetaries immediately west of Paris, nor any major arterial roads named after kings, queens or babies. Strange Days had found us. Whilst humming Waiting For The Sun over an expresso, I thought travelling east would be the best option. The lyric, "Father? Yes, son? I want to kill you" provided another vital piece to the puzzle. Pere is the French word for father. It all pointed to the Pere Lachaise Cemetary east of Paris next to the maternity hospital. Voila! But the cemetary was huge with thousands of plots, with already dozens of perspiring, pushy, 60´s acid casualties swarming around reading "Personalities Buried At Pere Lachaise" maps, mostly upside down, all trying to locate Jim's plot too. It wasn't too hard to spot who was there to see Jim's grave: tattooed ferals, deranged looking, burnt out, gray haired ex- hippies with tombstones in their eyes, barging past, going over, under, through me- weird scenes inside the graveyard. I resolved to beat these desperate, odious, human impersonators with my inside knowledge- the lyrics of Morrison himself. Since there were upwards of 80 divisions in the cemetary, I deduced that the division number to Jim´s grave could be found by the only numbers I could remember in a Doors song- "Five to one, one in five, no one here baby, gets out alive" Ok 5. Or 1. Or 15. Or 51. Or division 1 plot 5, near the maternity hospital, or vice versa. Merde! It was getting complicated. I opted for 6 as Jim would of liked the numerological slant on things.
"Keep it simple, baby" would of been a Morrison lyric I bet, if Jim had of stayed away from the bathtub and the drugs that fateful Parisian day and lived to record another platter. My inner dolphin told me I was getting warm, but division 6 was packed with thousands of graves! I walked past a cute tabby cat with a beautiful white bib and as I did, it meowed at me. I couldn't remember any Doors song mentioning cats. Peace Frogs, Lizards, Crawling King Snakes, Actors Out On Loan & Dogs Without Bones and Indians By The Roadside Bleeding While Ghosts Crowd The Young Child´s Fragile Eggshell Mind maybe, but no cats. I walked around aimlessly thinking that this was the end, beautiful friend, until I realised that that the cat must be the key. Jim's lyric "I aint gonna crawl no more" and "Hello, I love you, let me jump in your game" roughly said to me don't try to work it out, it'll happen, be yourself, don´t follow the man, man, commune with the Great Spirit, it will guide you. Ancient Egyptians thought cats to be invested with mystical powers and Jim struck me as being open to many spiritual experiences such as cats offering directions, so I walked back to the cat. Again the friendly feline meowed as I approached and that was the Eureka moment- the lyric "Come on, come on and touch me babe/ can't you see/ that I am not afraid" was the final clue I needed. After dodging another gravy train of intense, foul smelling, fucked up 60's hippies (all looking for more exoteric clues to Jim's grave than a mere tabby cat, no doubt) I sat down next to it and looked in the direction that the cat was looking: "Touch me, babe." Jim had said so long ago, so I peered (in the direction of what turned out to be the maternity hospital) whilst gently stroking the purring cat. Voila! Cést beau! There it was- hidden amongst a cluster of old sandstone mini mausoleums- the great man´s final resting place.
All those suckers that had bought maps still couldn't find the Lizard King's grave, were now in the wrong place, trampling over some poor, long dead 19th century French dentist´s plot, but your intrepid correspondent had found the singer's grave by putting Morrison's lyrics to use! I felt Jim´s spirit had directed to me to him. All I had to do was to be open to it. In his brilliant song The End, Morrison lamented, "But you´ll never follow me" and living the life he did I´m glad I didn´t, but by listening to the talking cosmic cat, following the clues in his lyrics, I had found his plot where many of his fairweather followers had failed. His writing now seemed to make sense, like beautiful, sad poetry with hidden messages, like the stories of Edgar Allen Poe. Lovingly placed fresh flowers adorned the austere gray granite grave. At the foot of it someone had chipped away a 18" chunk for a momento perhaps and a simple inscription decorated the tombstone: James Douglas Morrison 1943- 1971 Another inscription below was inscribed with the cryptic words: KATA TON AIMONA EAYTOY. It was only fitting that someone as mysterious as Jim Morrison should have something that required further investigation to understand what was on his headstone. Dave DK, sometimes bassist with Problem, did some detective work and came up with several meanings from different sources to the inscription: One is "Burn Your Demon" Another is "Against The Devil Himself" or "Against The Devil Within" depending on the context. The present headstone was put there by Jim's father in 1991. I sat quietly near the grave and ruminated. All was peaceful. It was time to go. I said an American Prayer- "Death Makes Angels Of Us All And Gives Us Wings Where We Had Shoulders As Smooth As Raven's Claws" and hoped that the Lizard King had found peace wherever his soul was. It started to rain and a gentle breeze blew yellowing leaves off the trees that lined the divisions onto the cobblestones. I was alone- the talking cat and the madding crowd had vanished. Tears filled my eyes. I didn't try to work out why. I felt glad to be alive and grateful to have visited here. I said thank you to Jim for his art. Walking the lonely walk back to the Metro, past thousands of graves like Jim's, I thought of an inscription I had seen once on a poet´s tombstone that seemed to be appropriate to Jim Morrison: ...and alien tears will fill for him pity's long broken urn/ for his mourners will be outcast men/ and outcasts will always mourn.