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Jimi played the Bingo Hall
http://20six.co.uk/john
powered by
20six.co.uk
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The new 20six isn;t for me. I have moved: here Toddle pip
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Does any one out there want to re-design my site for me? for free? Go on, you know you you want to.
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It feels like I’m suffering from shell shock, lack of sleep and I think I’m fighting a battle, constantly, stuck in the middle and the children keep crying and I can’t make them stop and the more they cry the closer it takes me to a new day and I’m suffering shell shock, lack of sleep, stubble and a thousand yard stare another dark night of the soul laying awake in the moments of silence thinking about the noises that are coming from the street outside, burglars or monsters?, but it doesn’t matter, I’m powerless to fight either so I toss and tune and add numbers but it doesn’t matter, none of this does, who’s going to read this? who’s gonna help when I drown? Ants run across the floor of my life, the floor is dusty and in the corners loose hair has fallen and is gathered and I can’t see a way out of this. I am living shell shocked shuffling along somnambulist and I drink tea at work to pass the time and I daydream of sleep on the tube and I try to grab five minutes of sleep in the toilet at work but it stinks of shit and I can hear the man in the cubicle next door to be straining and puffing and I hope he’s shitting not wanking, it’s all to unpleasant so I walk outside in the breeze and all I want to do is sleep and I look at the homeless and the tramps and am jealous because they are fast asleep, slumbering on the concrete, sleeping bags and jumpers as duvets and a thousand feet march by them but they don’t care, their asleep most probably dreaming of better days, a plate of hot food, a bath. I shuffle along back to my office, back to my desk, I drink tea to stave off the boredom. I think I can hear my children crying from here, maybe it’s an echo, maybe its’ from last night, spinning around my head in a loop, a spinning loop that is going round and round and I tap away on the keyboard but the crying and screaming is still there.
I am shell shocked but I am not in a war, I am not in a trench. I used to run. I used to laugh. I used to be someone different. I am miles away.
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Still not happy with this site. Still think it's shit. Thought I'd let you know.
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Syd pulled out a mysterious metallic object from his pocket. It warned him of mis-firing wrongly wired androids that were on a murderous rampage, but before Syd could go and save the day he had to answer the twins questions, vis-à-vis the possibility that a time machine could be in Syd’s well appointed, airy living room.
Syd sipped his tea, took a healthy bite of a biscuit, sat down and began to tell a tale that has remained untold.
The twins leaned forward, excited.
Syd joined Pink Floyd, who at the time were called the Tea Set, in 1964. Prior to Syds arrival they went by the names Sigma 6, The Meggadeaths and , The Screaming Abdabs. Syd’s first input into the band was to change their name, when unexpectedly they played on the same bill as another band called the Tea Sat. Syd chuckled a childish chuckle at the thought of two bands in the same place at the same time, both with such a shit name.
Syd was the major song writer, penning their first single ,Arnold Layne” and “See Emily Play” and the majority of their first album “The Pipers at the Gates of Dawn”, an album believed to be the blueprint for British psychedelia.
Anyway, Syd went on, he was writing songs and eating drugs daily, large quantities of mind mending drugs. Syd pointed out to the twins that drugs in thoses days were far stronger and far powerful the the stuff you buy today.
Anyways, Syd went on, his interests in thoe days were music, folk stories and space and all of these themes appeared in his music. One day at a party, a man was offering round sugar cubes coated with acid. Syd took some and the trip was so powerful he sat their for three days, motionless while his brain flew off at tangents and in different directions and all the world seemed to be made of running paint and all the candles were melting and peoples faces contorted into masks and the walls became mosaics and liquid in glass seemed to move like tidal waves and when people spook it was s l o w and he understood about one in every eight words and nothing made sense but everything was crystal clear and diamond sharp and the nosie and when he heard music jumping from record player he saw the musical dance and skip through air that was filed was smoke the summer sun shone through the window and burnt Syd’s retinas and he saw a blinding light and it was then that Syd had his vision. It appeared to him, complete and wrapped up in a box. Syd saw it all that day. He picked up pencil and started writing. When he cme around he had filled pages up with diagrams, logarithms and algebraic equations,
He had the blueprints for a time machine.
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