Played this big hippie fest last night. The Rolling Stones headlined. I remember me and Ian listening to their singles a bunch when we were real young, totally getting into it. Meeting them was a real bumout. They had all these dumb hippie chicks around them; one of them asked me my name and I said "Ornette Coleman." She didn't get it. Jagger made this lame quip about how "Rollins" was right after "Rolling Stones" in the record racks. What a weak ghost of a dead symbol that guy is. I wanted to pull his lips apart until they exposed his skull. I wanted to scorch his skull with napalm while blasting the first Black Sabbath album, and the next five albums that Black Sabbath is going to record after that, directly into his ears. I can't wait for those. Joe Cole is gonna love them.
I heard later that some heavy shit went on when the Stones played. The Hell's Angels stabbed some black kid in the crowd. That black kid has probably gone through more than you'll ever go through, mister biker tough guy. Black, white, it doesn't matter. I am stronger than any color, than any skin. My color is oblivion. My skin is hot asphalt bubbling, oozing. Touch it and stare at the blackened stump you pull back. Char.
Dukowski really bummed me out today. He said I always carry the lightest amp. What the fuck is up with that guy? Is he even human?
