By continuing to use the site, you agree to our use of cookies and to abide by our Terms and Conditions. We in turn value your personal details in accordance with our Privacy Policy.
Please log in or register. Registered visitors get fewer ads.
I remember there was a programme on radio one years ago about life changing records.. they interviewed this bloke about this track. ..
he was in a coma following a bad car accident... he's mates were playing tapes to him while he was in that coma...
when he woke he said that he had to live, to stay alive because of this record . While he slept in an induced coma he said he had to wake up and survive for this track . the breakdown at 4mins 50n seconds gave him the will to live..
''i've got to stay alive" for this.
No bongos. No pinky and perky. No tucker and tate.
I dont knock people who find comfort, love , companionship and solace in god. Its very easy to sneer at christian peoples who worship and tithe. If they beleive in a higher power as they understand it to be . good on them . Let them love and tarry awhile in a community that accepts them for what they are. Human beings with all our imperfections and faults.
i tried it for a couple of years , lifeline community church., Dagenham. I never got the hang of it. i found it was for a body of people who didn't quite fit in with life and societal norms. they needed to belong and feel loved. Poor damaged souls craving acceptance and a meaning in life, And church gave them that. Let them beleive , love and worship without prejudice .
If people need to fill that black hole with booze, food, drugs, porn , QPR or god let them. Go with god or not, but dont judge nor sneer at their chosen rack and pinion to navigate their own lives.
After all, Who made us the Roland Freisler of peoples desire and search for something greater than the asphalt jungle we reside in 24/7?
ecstasy pills circa '89 to '92 were the equivalent to Andy Warhol's golden telephone which he claimed gave him a direct line to god.
Trouble with that is once your have opened the doors of perception to the palace of wisdom and awoken the pineal gland to touch god's Face , theres nowhere else to go.
All your left with is the mundane trappings of everyday life. The tatty trinkets and paltry baubles of our seemingly endless existence..
What are we left with??.. Rufus hound on daytime quiz shows with a ronald mortensen pastel jumper slung over his shoulders and adverts targeting pensioners to sell their wedding rings and medals so they can feed themselves with mechanically recoverd offal and expired spam.
i questioned the meaning of all life last night... acid jazz high sensei 'Omar', who had a few top ten hits in the early 90's,was on Radio BBC Essex yesterday, as he was promoting his nostalgia tour and appearing 5 minutes away from my drum at the Boatyard In leigh on sea.
Having waited enough time on the phone to Master the high teachings of Umayyad Dynasty Islamic Textile Studies, i was finally patched through on a line that was more full of static than the Apollo 15 line from the sea of fecundity as they circumnavigated the Mons Hadley.
Being a wednesday night after work as a humble probation officer, I was obviously cu nted out of my skate on dirty booze and thus emboldened to the point where i felt a kinship of sorts with Omar.
Over the piss poor line, i ventured to the Talkin' Loud Dingwalls kingpin , That He was heavily influenced in his early body of work by Donald Byrd, Larry Fonce Mizzell, Ramsey lewis, Johnny Hammond and Gary Bartz, who were in point of fact, a tesseract and thus tapping the creative source that lurked dormant within and That Dj Patrick Forge and Dj Jay Strongman of the shake and fingerpop collective, were an organic conduit of some higher nature who showcased his Dirty Funk to a clued up element, who in turn, have remained staunch and loyal for the last 25 years to his Music.
Omar replied 'Patrick Who Mate?', before i was cut off and returned to Tales of the unexpected on Itv 4.
i went to bed with a horlicks and a flea in my ear. its all bollocks.
l think last nights 7 pints of Spaten munchen is still coursing through my veins. might have to top up in a minute , the chigwell mother in law is over at 10am!.
watched a re run of the game this morning .. Frey was the mean, mode and median of classical old skool center forward play.
A petri dish hybrid of Bob latchford/David Cross/ Peter Withe/Ray Hankin/Gerry Armstrong /Alan Young etc etc.
Savage Beauty. A knuckle duster in a velvet opera glove. A Mafia underboss in a 14oz 3 piece chalk stripe suit. The swaggering Borstal 'Daddy' confiscating snout at will.
This famous linguist once said that of all the phrases in the English language, of all the endless combinations of words in all of history, that "Queens Park Rangers Football Club" is the most beautiful.
Evenin' lads,, just back from a retirement piss up at the lamb leadenhall market. £7 a pint of cruzcampo.
Flopped meself on the louis the 13th repo pouf to watch the game awith a pint of lowenbrau and ravi shanker veg samosa only to find we're one nil down.
the bit that sent me madder than frankie fraser in his rampton straightjacket was when the plymouth players manhandled the ref like 14 year old girls seeing the beatles at hamburg areana for the first time.
Clear sending off yet they acted as if they had neen wronged like Derek bentley.
By continuing to use the site, you agree to our use of cookies and to abide by our Terms and Conditions.