It never comes tomorrow

Dzhenis Joplin sings so that he breaks the roofs from the heads and covers from the pan

Life begins in a hibar with a peeped door, where she lived with a couple Helms, a long -haired outsider with a thousand ideas in her head. He began the seller of marijuana and continued, renting an old dance hall, which he turned into the legendary place of Avalon Ballroom, where the best groups of the western coast played. The first psychedelic producer in the world, poorly counting the money that was always in a loss, he connected Jenis Joplin and Big Brother and the Holding Company and took off the shed to rehearse.

But the police appeared there: "The message was received that the woman was screaming!" - "Dude, she does not scream, she sings!" She sings so that chandeliers swing, kicks grow out of snow, orange sun appears in the Black Heaven, and a rock-roller angel with an electric guitar and wings decorated with pacifiks flies through a parabola. She sings that she breaks the roofs from the heads and lids from the pan, in which her psychedelic potion is cooked and gurgled, consisting of grass of happiness, the windows of passion and four quarters of the Southern Comfort liquor.

One friend of mine brought from America a bottle of his beloved liquor, Jennis Joplin, with whom she drank to a causing hoarse laughter and swinging gait, and poured us on a glass so that we appreciated the thick passion of Janice and charge her drunken fun. But how much will you break from the glass? He stretched a precious drink so that the drink would never run out. It was not in the spirit of Janice, she immediately drained the bottle and followed the next. But you can always add cognac. So do it on her birthday, when she is in front of us in all the madness of her character, in all the insufficiency of her crazy love, in pink tights, in black tops with pebbles and shells on the cups of a bra, with red hair, in a black cylinder on red hair, in children's sandals and in pearl -owned beads, in every pea of ​​which peas Her song lurks.

Provincial nasty, appearing in spectacular, fucked, bohemian, white, ocean San Francisco to sing rock and blues, she wore old tattered jeans, until Peggy Karest, the owner of the hippy boutique mnasidika, did not give her branded Lvi Strauss, costing as many as 4 dollars 50 Certs. Jenis wanted to buy them, but she lacked 50 cents. Peggy Kareta loved her to listen, loved her phenomena on scenes in swinging sheds, on the scumbags of the halls flying up with a reactive roar, loved her powerful voice, in which there was so much pain, so much wheezing, so much love, so much love that the face of Janis in the light of the spotlights became happy, and then immediately unhappy. And the laughter replaced the tears.

Jenis loved everyone, men, because they want love and women so, because they are so elegant, so beautiful. She had friends and girlfriends and some kind of mania to change them, throw them, be abandoned, cry, to remain alone and immerse themselves in depression, because all this was not the same, not that. It is hard to imagine that this hurricane in a skirt, blues in sneakers and rock and roll in beads did not want to row, not sex without borders, but love, but she really wanted it, although if someone told her about this, she would have answered with all her courage, determination and even rudeness: they fell off! Fuck!

After drinking a thousand bottles of Southern Comfort, she decided that she would have enough capital to cash in on it, and sent the producer of the liquor of newspaper clippings, where her photographs with her favorite bottle were published. All this was free advertising, and now the hour of reckoning has come! The manufacturer, unable to withstand her drive, laughter, scream, wheezing, screaming, blues, rock, transferred to her 25 thousand dollars, and she was proud of her business grip and laughed behind the scenes, claiming that she was the only person who received a lot of money in the world that she spent two years in a drunken unconscious state.

Two rings with stones, four bracelets on his left hand, eight threads of beads and at the same time absolutely naked - this supercader of Bob Zaydeman is so good that now Puritans shy away from him in horror. Shirt, dear, Janice is going to you on his porshe, the convertible model 365, which her road manager Dave Richards painted from the trunk to the bumper and turned into a hippie mobile. There is a butterfly on the hood and the third eye near the windshield, and the yellow bun by the mirror, and the flow of colored hallucinations caused by hallucinogens and music. On it, she went from Frisco to the city of angels, and his appearance on the roads was produced by a splash. This Porsche stood all night at her last refuge called Landmark Hotel. There was a night porter with which she chatted for about ten minutes before returning to the room from which she no longer left.

Chaos of events, a whirlwind of impressions, everything flies into kubarom, strives forward and into the distance, everything falls and takes off, the scene behind the stage, everything is compressed so tightly in the only one today that replaced and canceled any yesterday and tomorrow - so she lived from her first concert in October 1966 in Avalon Ballroom until the last - in December 1970 on Harvard on Harvard Stadium. Logic, plan, sequence, moderation, order - all this is not about it. In public, she was loud, laughed a lot, but sometimes we suddenly see her in a cold room, in a coat thrown onto the shoulders, who put his feet on a chair tiredly, and the book on his knees ... one, completely alone.

There are many optional things in the world. It is not clear why Russia is needed by the President, and why there is a top management of Gazprom with its yachts and villas, and why the oligarch is needed, and what is the meaning of ice cream without milk, but with dyes and chemical offices, and why are borders and border guards, as well as visa departments and bad football players, but there is no doubt in the need for Jennis Jeenis. From its first note to the last, our poor world needs it, who was obscured by cruelty and lies, he needs him as salvation, albeit at least five minutes when she sings ME and Bobby McGee. Janice Joplin is urgently necessary, necessary as bread and air, it is necessary for all of us, locked in his small and mournful being, from which you will not go out the door and you will not fly out the window. We sit in ourselves as frightened rabbits, fearing poverty, illness, power, death. But she sings Summertime so that the doors and windows open to hell with fear, and the soul is freed from everything imposed on it, and the person remains with himself and becomes himself.