Which one's Pink?

Being a Pink Floyd fan growing up cured me of a lot of things. It stopped me from becoming a fan of "jam bands," it stopped me from marching to the tune of a corporate drummer, and it forced me to take a hard look at who I was.

There was nothing more antithetical to punk than Pink Floyd. I was at the LA Sports Arena in 1981 to witness The Wall. I walked away with the feeling that there was just no way to follow its spectacle. Big rock was done. It had done it's thing, and it was now officially over.

Yeah, I went though my period of Syd Barrett nostalgia in the late 80s, but even then I knew that what Pink Floyd really represented was the zenith of the arena as a venue for rock. I thought they were best at a form of sonic sculpture, but the sculptures were just too big and destined for collapse. No more wandering around in outerspace. No more psychedelic drugs. No more big rock for me.

But its a fond memory, nonetheless. Back to the era of drugs with three-letter acronyms, back to the time that those furry animals were crawling around in my head. It's high time, Cymbeline, please wake me.

[funny how the manufacturers of bootlegs can't spell]

It's a guilty pleasure, to be sure. So many memories of that time are filled with crazy visions. Life was less serious. Wake up in the morning and figure out how to get high that day. Too bad we all have to grow up sometime. Or do we? I suppose I still follow the same regimen. Only these days, it's poems and books and music and pictures.