End of a long day wrestling with a bag of weasels. (Metaphorically not literally.) Recovering by sitting mutely in front of a programme about the 1960s Brit music invasion of the US. The screaming! The hair! The idealism!
This is Graham Nash from The Hollies: 'Donovan has got this great universal love, man. Today, because the kids are so tolerant, they really want to understand what people are trying to say, so they’ll go with Donovan 99% of the way. Because what he’s trying to put over is best for everybody. What Donovan is trying to put over will stop wars DEAD.'
When I was about ten, and itching to spend my pocket money, I randomly bought a stash of ancient 7" singles from a second-hand stall at the village fete. A blind buy - I'd never heard of any of the names. Jet Harris. The Ivy League. And Donovan.
Had I known at the age of ten that Donovan's message would stop wars DEAD, I might have reacted slightly differently to 'There is a mountain'. As it was, I struggled with the lyrics. 'First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is.' (WHAT? WHY? Does the mountain disappear? How is that possible? Where does it go? Why does it come back? Or is this just a nonsense poem - like Lear?)
Next line: 'Caterpillar sheds its skin, to find a butterfly within'. (WHAT?? This is completely LOGICAL - I cannot square it with the mountain-stuff. My Lear theory is blown). Next line: 'First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is.' (OK - bemusing first time round, but now just irritating for a rather literal ten-year old).
On one of the few occasions I've taken magic mushrooms, I found myself staring at a carpet hanging on the wall. A studenty kilim. As I stared, the pattern started moving, and dissolving, and I got sucked into it - I BECAME ONE with the carpet.
After some hours, I was delivered back into my own body and the carpet was on the wall again.
First there is a carpet, then there is no carpet, then there is.
I think I get it now.
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