Slug, Diane Di Prima, Imprisonment, Interpretations

I’ve been eluded by many current events due to my college budget, and in turn, the news on cable TV, newspapers that I can’t afford, and I suppose my own neglect for internet news that I do indeed have access to. My mistake, my loss. However, today’s discussion reminded me of a song I’ve enjoyed for years but perhaps not recognized in its entirety, for I realized that (at least for me) it resonates around the poem we analyzed today in class. I’m sure most of you know about Slug and his lyrical genius, but if not, let me show you a song by Atmosphere called “God’s Bathroom Floor:” (and if you're just like tl;dr, just read the italicized portion of the song). 

Head, pressure, senses, clutched
Date, Divinity, wouldn't, fuck
Touched, hazy, God, change
Rush, floor, life, veins

From a head full of pressure rests the senses that I clutch
Made a date with Divinity, but she wouldn't let me fuck
I got touched by a hazy shaded, God help me change
Caught a rush on the floor from the life in my veins

It goes one for the cannabis, and two for your dianetics
Three for your reasoning, and four for those that try to get it
Five for your love, and six for the stress
And seven for the day that I climbed into this mess

I'm catching ulcers from the child proof lighters
And all these fine tooth biters that keep the wires in my head tighter
I'm tired out by the distances achieved walking in my sleep
Thoughts got shifted since the high got a tad too deep
Ask dad to keep cool, I'll call him back as soon as I resume normal
And get out of this bathroom
And call management to seek some reimbursement
For the nerve ending that burnt from the first hits

So fuck needles, fuck smoke
Fuck lines that make the sinus choke
Fuck chasers, trails, fuck waves and rails
Fuck hang-overs, fuck hallucinations
Regurgitations, mandatory sentences and UA tracing
Blind my insight and dull the common sense
Give me inhibition, kill the superstition and the confidence
Built the tolerance, now it's more that I consume it
When it boards up my room, the world's whores will croon in unison
Unify the eulogy, autopsy pages read euthanasia, I.E., irony
But here I be within a pool of my drool
Sedated, windows dilated, comatose, life overdose
Tell Jacob Miles to keep it wild style
I promise I'll smile
And check the floor, God's got nice tile
Tell Jacob Mile to keep that shit wild style
And I'll smile
And check the floor, God's got nice tile

Head, pressure, senses, clutched
Date, Divinity, wouldn't, fuck
Touched, hazy, God, change
Rush, floor, life...

It’s apparent to me that he speaks of his own drugs abuse, and tells his son, Jacob Mile, to “keep it wild style – ” Don’t follow in his footsteps; don’t let it suck you in, for it’s imprisonment you face once you follow the wrong path to drugs, to inevitable captivity of one kind or another.

Slug is an artist that doesn’t easily let go of his intended lyrical meaning. Rather, his goal is to elicit the listeners’ own discoveries within his songs. So “Fuck needles, fuck smoke, fuck lines that make the sinus choke,” etc. seems similar to Diane Di Prima’s poem in which she criticizes the parts of society that incarcerate its citizens in one way or another. The readily available marijuana and other substances she speaks about are reflected in God’s Bathroom Floor, although Slug's song doesn’t directly address many inherently political issues. I’d like to see some other interpretations of his song – especially the italicized portion.