August 25th 2016
Some of history’s most prolific writers and composers of our time have either been genius, plain barking mad or somewhere in-between and that includes either being addicted to alcohol or some other form of drug or chemical.
Many of the great Musical Classicists were profoundly deaf, many were so high as a kite or out of their own tree that it still amazes me that they were even able to hold their own instrument or quills, let alone strike an ivory or able to even sit at their own piano or desk.
I always was, and still to this day consider myself more of a Beatles Babe than a Californian Beach Boy, I considered the latters music totally monotonous, (Good Vibrations did my head in) and to that comment I must add, music is of a personal agenda, no two people ever share the same playlist, or even come to that, ever dance at the same frequency in time or in tune.
We all knew the Beatles and the Rolling Stones and the such big progressive grpous were into drugs. To add an insult to an injury and icing to top it off, only yesterday did I learn that the Beach Boys in their heyday were constantly tripping whilst writing all of their famous Summer hits, guess that figures as they were the tail end of the Woodstock era which psychedelically traversed itself through the flower power and hippy movement. LSD and its associated trips were still readily available about ten years or so ago and as far as I am aware have no doubt they are still being torn into micro strips to this day.
Perhaps I shouldnt admit to this, but of the twice time, that I popped a tiny cardboard square, I’m sure I met the devil, or his advocate on both occasions and after what seemed like an eternity fighting with him I eventually returned back to square one again, believe me, that is not a pun.
A friend suggested I get out and have some fun clubbing at one of our regular haunts, I was quite into the scene then, but, that’s another story available only for my adult viewers and then only on request. “Go on, you will be fine” he said. So, eventually, I reluctantly swallowed one of these happy perforated items, I should have guessed that the many repeated instruction of “if I started to feel ill I was to sit down and try to relax and think of nice things’ was definitely a bad omen ….
If you have ever seen the Mrs Browns Boys episode where Agnes takes some *headache* pills, then you may see the funny side of things …. there were hundreds and hundreds of flying orbs and sparkling lines jetting about in front of me, I was coping quite well and enjoying the environment around …. until another friend spotted me across the sweaty dance club floor. Suddenly I knew it was all going to end up a disaster, I can hear his words still to this day …. “sorry to hear your Mum died” (two weeks previous) as he hugged me tight and cried into my ear ……. It was all down hill from there on ….. and when I say downhill I mean DOWNHILL.
I will never forget that horrid experience, ever.
Making a point, although you may think some of my ‘passages of time’ may seem a little strange, believe me, its got nothing to do with any form of drug, its only myself trying to put lost times into an order, hopefully It will finally fall into a particular one.
Now that I have had some time to think about it. In what location would I consider placing my own self in the spectrum of between barking mad or genius I ask?
To be honest, lt all depends on what position the moon was in last night and what time I woke up this morning!
Hope that has clarified a few things for you.