uraniumglass:

Jim Carroll- A Child Growing Up With The Sun

Praying Mantis

bearattacks:

Bill and Jim

80srecordparty:

People Who Died b/w I Want The Angel
The Jim Carroll Band, ATCO Records/USA (1980) 

nineteeneighties:

The Jim Carroll Band - It’s Too Late

wem0:

i feel like ‘jim’ off the basketball diaries was written about me. that may sound weird, but i do. he has mental problems going on and i can just relate to him a lot as though i’ve been through it all myself, maybe because he becomes slightly insane during the movie, i don’t know, but we’re just weirdly similar, i think so anyway. other people may beg to differ, but he shows the same feelings i do, i can just see me shown in his character. even though i’m not a drug addict, it just feels like it’s me portrayed in a different way, if that makes sense? it’s actually a really good movie. meh i like relating to movies because it makes me feel slightly more comfortable to be myself. maybe i’m the reincarnation of jim carroll…

Jim from Basketball Diaries was written about Jim. He was a real guy, we just lost him in 2009.

You should look into his stuff.

vinylespassion:

The Jim Carroll Band, “It’s Too Late” (par catholicboyweb)

dylan-brady:

Playing pool 
Can really take the weight 
Off of my shoulders 
  
I’m staring down at the table 
The graceful clacking sound of the white ball 
Smashing into the rest of them 
Sounds sweeter then the best of all Bach pieces 
It can even taste better then candy 
                                     If you really try to taste the sound 
  
It’s been hours 
Sweat is soaking up into my shirt 
And it falls on to the table 
                   Making pools of water 
  
They look like lakes among a bright green forest 
                        I take off my jacket 
And open all of the windows 
There’s some sort of commotion outside 
But I don’t care 
                                                                I’m in the zone 
  
The hours turn into days and I haven’t stopped 
Suns light is broken by the bars across the window 
                                      Into graceful shafts of light 
                      Shining down upon my muse 
  
It looks beautiful 
I should play some more 
  
It’s getting kind of cold 
Actually it’s getting very cold 
Actually I can’t even feel my own skin 
It feels like multiple syringes 
Are now stuck inside my body 
Injecting an infinite amount of pain killers straight into my blood stream 
  
There’s no time to bundle up 
                          Or close the windows 
                   It’s snowing pretty hard outside 
                                                            But I’m in the zone 
  
  
Days and days turn to more days 
And now I’m lying on the oak floor 
                                                 Next to the table 
                          My entire face 
Has turned a shade of blue 
The same shade as the storm clouds hovering 
                     Above the empire state building 
  
The needle of the building looks like a syringe breaking the skin 
                                                                                                        I feel cold 
All I see is storm clouds   
                                                                                                        It’s so cold 
  
There is a knocking on my window 
                              And I turn to see 
   The raven has returned once more 
He tells me the meaning of everything 
                         And everything I’ve done wrong 
  
                                           Bicker, bicker, bicker! 
  
Please you stupid little bird 
                   Shut your beak! 
                                             I know what I’ve done wrong I know it all 
Why must you remind me and remind me 
                        Until I suffer the emotional consequence 
Over and over and over 
  
I can see that large black cloud coming down 
                                 I drown out one last sigh 
And the moment is gone 
The raven plops down beside my hand 
                                                              Covered in snow 
And runs its talon across my cold, blue hand 
                                                                        It flies away 
                              In to the black clouds that surround me 
I look up one last time 
And the clouds clear 
And only one thing reveals itself 
                                                                            It is a dove 
                                 Emerging from the clouds 
A snow white dove. 

It plops down beside my head 
                                                Covered in snow 
And runs its wing across my eyes 
Closing them 
             It flies away 
  

it made me smile.

kevintcraig:

My Book of Nods - an ode to Jim Carroll…

A poem I wrote the day Jim passed away…