Floyd-ian moods


There are only times when i feel a sense of regret for not being comfortable with drinking or smoking or getting high on dope. And the Floyd-ian moments aggravate that thought. The moments or in my case days when i am completely engulfed by David Gilmor’s voice and Roger Waters’ words. The music of a different world, a parallel to this one. The voice so divine it it makes you almost yearn for it to stay on and never stop singing. The words so smoothly truthful, they slowly enter you and come out as thoughts elucidating reality from different perspectives. They make you think in moments, in bits, and forget and remember, recall and live, relive moments you know you’d forgotten or ignored or looked through.
Suddenly those moments are alive, have an emotion, have a meaning, that’s more meaningful than that moment back in the past. It is clearer, more understandable, more decipherable, more insightful of your surroundings of why it happened, or why it didn’t. Of why you did what you did and didn’t what you didn’t. You smile and your eyes moisten, because the realisation is what you were waiting for, while the emotion of the moment makes you cry. With pity or grief, or sympathy or just love for the person concerned or you. And you feel that surge of emotion of having to thank, to plead guilty, to apologize, to appreciate, to talk, to understand more. And then the next line in the song reminds you of reality, of the fact that it is not possible to go back in that moment and alter the events. That you need to live with it. But you could still enjoy the freedom of feeling it and reliving it and relearning from it. It’s like a swing, it takes you up and you feel exalted with pride and mirth, and then it recedes and takes you back to where you belong, to reality of the current. And slowly it brings you back again to where you want to be.
It’s a  journey.  I believe they (the Pink Floyd) came up with something so eternal and so frighteningly close to perfect that it almost engulfs you and makes you flow into it, like a kayak in a rift. rocking and caressing at the same time, and merrily turning you around and playing with you, cuddling you and dropping you. It is a slow realisation and you can never have enough of it. It’s addictive, and drug like. It makes you wonder why you didn’t do acid or drugs or drink for that matter and be in that realm of parallel reality. Made of your thoughts and not of your’s and other’s actions. And by now you’re already dreaming of that realm and hence are in essence where acid would’ve taken you.
The ringing of the Division Bell has begun.
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