So, there I am, the absolute verge of panic. I mean the verge. This quite acrid green smoke just billowing all around me, but even so I could see on the big screen the earth just getting farther and farther away, and so I knew I simply had to go get Dick. I mean Dick is really a marvelous driver, and having been in the navy he knows all about steering boats and things, so I thought, if he was feeling up to it he must be able to do better than I’d been doing and maybe find some way to land this thing without killing us all.
So up I jumped to go get him.
But then as I’m wandering back through these mysterious winding purple-lit corridors all of a sudden I start to float, I mean literally, float.
Oh, hooray, and there am I, desperately trying to swim my way through the air when all of a sudden we went through this weird thing.
I later found out that we had in fact passed through into another dimension of all things.
Quite an odd feeling, believe me.
But fortunately I’d taken enough psychedelics in my time that I was not entirely unused to weird states of being. Not that normal life isn’t weird. But this very nearly was the limit, even for me.
For a minute there I sort of was the universe, which of course includes so much more than the mere physical universe, which I’d always known anyway. Just as I’d always really known deep down that people like the Maharishi and the Pope and whatnot haven’t really got the ghost of a clue. I mean they try so hard. They really do. For these exalted states. But I’ve always known ever since I was a little girl that anything you really have to try, try, try to do just cannot be worth it. Because trying is essentially boring. My philosophy is if it doesn’t come naturally to you then the hell with it. And personally I’ve always thought Heaven or Nirvana or Satori sounded like such a bore. And more than a little creepy, too. It’s so much more fun just being alive and, you know, all the little things, of being alive, those little things. So I suppose I did heave a rather audible sigh of relief when I came out of this little mini-Satori, lying flat on my back on the floor, no more freefall now.
And so I got back up onto my own two feet again, a little wobbly, but no worse really for the wear.
But never a moment’s rest. Because now that awful uriney green smoke has caught up with me, rolling down the corridor like an enormous evil cloud, and I am so over this whole mess. So I ran and ran, really getting a little upset now, and after what seemed like ages running up and down these purple corridors in these two-inch pumps not made for running, green smoke now billowing from vents in all the walls and ceilings, I finally get to the first room and there among all those dead spacemen and humans are Dick and Harvey, sitting up and rubbing their eyes and wondering what the hell the deal was, and who could blame them?
“What’s that smell?” says Dick. “Is something burning?”
Well, I didn’t really want to tell him I’d peed into the works, so I said I didn’t know.
Then there was a great big thump and we all bounced up about a foot into the air, and we just knew we had landed somewhere. Or at least I knew. (I don’t think the boys knew we had been flying in the first place.)
But just then this absolute tidal wave of this foul green malignant smoke comes rushing into the room, and we’re all suffocating and coughing like crazy.
And that’s when I remembered the button panel by the doorway. Now, which ones had that second spaceman guy told me to press? And in what order? I couldn’t remember for sure, but what did I have to lose? Because to stay in that spaceship was simply to die a horrible and painful death from asphyxiation.
So I pressed, what, second button once, first button twice? Whatever, the important thing was (oh, hooray for real this time!) the door began to slide open!****
(Click here for our next exciting chapter. Kindly turn to the right hand column of this page for a complete listing of links to all extant episodes of Larry Winchester’s a Town Called Disdain™, a Shel Talmy Production.)
Yeah, the Kinks:
You forget how great the Kinks were. Their career spanned two decades. In the late 70's during the gas shortage, they recorded and album Low Budget with a fitting tune for these times called 'A Gallon of Gas'. here is the refrain:"I can score you some coke and some grade one grass
But I can't get a gallon of gas
I've got some downers some speed all the drugs that you need
But I can't get a gallon of gas
There's no more left to buy or sell
There's no more oil left in the well
A gallon of gas can't be purchased anywhere
For any amount of cash"
Damn, I love Ray Davies and the Kinks.
Hey I hate ta feckin disagree with ya there tedster but the Kinks are alive and well:
"They are now the only major British Invasion band whose original members are all still alive."
That's from "wikipedia" and we all know they are never wrong.
I plan ta see them July 19.
Wow, they're playing together again?
Rock on, Marcus!
I love Daphne, and think I caught sight of her this weekend. She was featured in Newsweek, May 9, 1966, saying how important it was to avoid "finks," who are people entirely different from the Kinks.
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