Back in the mid eighties, I dated this guy great looking young hippie guy who lived in a squat in the east village. He lived with an old viet nam vet in a wheel chair and a couple of rastas, guy who I’d seen around the neighborhood for years. The bathroom in his squat did not have a door, just a curtain and he did not have a room or a bed, just a space on the floor. He had a southern accent and a strong body and light brown long wavy hair and he looked like he had stepped out of a particular Charles Gatewood photo, really cool like a young Lemmy from Motorhead, and we ran around together for a while.
One night everyone was going to see Motorhead at L’amours, the rock capitol of Brooklyn, as they referred to themselves. On a side note, at the time a heavy metal club in Brooklyn was the epitome of uncool, but Motorhead was playing there, so it was cool for the night. My ex-boyfriend was driving the van that was taking everyone. It was weird to tag along with my sweetheart but Motorhead was playing so I swallowed my pride and said hi and got in his van and gave money for gas.
I often think of Lemmy when I say, and I say it often, "the first one through the wall always gets bloodied". He invented a certain sound that some other bands got rich doing. Life is like that. They say he got his name Lemmy because he was always saying “lemme a fiver.” Lemmy passed away today, that sound will live on forever. RIP.