The Gonzo Daily - Saturday
And so the sun is starting his journey back to us.
We sometimes forget how dependent we are upon King Sol. In 1999, for reasons I will not go into here, Uri Geller, Rob Ayling, Richard, Graham and I
were on a cross-channel cruise to coincide with the solar eclipse. The ferry was
to sail along the line of totality so that we on board could get the best
possible view of what was, at least in the UK, a once-in-a-lifetime
experience.
As the disc of the sun slowly disappeared I began to feel a very primal panic. I ceased to be an intelligent and reasonably cultured middle-aged writer and surprisingly quickly reverted to being a primal savage. I clutched my then girlfriend's hand and much to my surprise, I found that tears were rolling down my cheeks. I looked around, embarrassed. Even more to my surprise I realised that most of the people I could see were crying. This was just something so completely alien to any of our shared life experience. From our earliest days daytime meant the sun, even if it was hidden behind clouds, and for the first time in any of our lives - and there were about 1500 people on the ferry - the sun had disappeared. The rational part of my brain knew perfectly well that this was only an uncommon astronomical phenomenon. The sun (like it says in the song) had been "eclipsed by the moon" and I knew perfectly well that, in a few minutes, everything would be back to normal in the UK for the next seventy-four years.
However, emotionally I knew no such thing. I was like an ancient savage who believed that the celestial sphere had been devoured by the inexorable force of the daemonic serpent-dragon and in my heart of hearts I was convinced that the sun had gone for good, and that within the blink of a cosmic eye, I, together with all life on earth would shrivel and die away forever.
The worst thing about this sunless world was the strange, colourless half-light. Everything was tinged with a murky and unpleasant shade of puce. It was as if the creator had finally tired of the antics of his unruly and ungrateful servants and vomited back all the collected prayers, hopes and fears of mankind throughout the ages all over the pantheon of his creation. The entire world was the colour of vomit, and for what seemed like a lifetime, although I was in the middle of a crowd of 1500 people together with my then lover and many of my closest friends, I felt utterly desolate in a world that God - or at least the oldest God known to mankind - had deserted.
As the disc of the sun slowly disappeared I began to feel a very primal panic. I ceased to be an intelligent and reasonably cultured middle-aged writer and surprisingly quickly reverted to being a primal savage. I clutched my then girlfriend's hand and much to my surprise, I found that tears were rolling down my cheeks. I looked around, embarrassed. Even more to my surprise I realised that most of the people I could see were crying. This was just something so completely alien to any of our shared life experience. From our earliest days daytime meant the sun, even if it was hidden behind clouds, and for the first time in any of our lives - and there were about 1500 people on the ferry - the sun had disappeared. The rational part of my brain knew perfectly well that this was only an uncommon astronomical phenomenon. The sun (like it says in the song) had been "eclipsed by the moon" and I knew perfectly well that, in a few minutes, everything would be back to normal in the UK for the next seventy-four years.
However, emotionally I knew no such thing. I was like an ancient savage who believed that the celestial sphere had been devoured by the inexorable force of the daemonic serpent-dragon and in my heart of hearts I was convinced that the sun had gone for good, and that within the blink of a cosmic eye, I, together with all life on earth would shrivel and die away forever.
The worst thing about this sunless world was the strange, colourless half-light. Everything was tinged with a murky and unpleasant shade of puce. It was as if the creator had finally tired of the antics of his unruly and ungrateful servants and vomited back all the collected prayers, hopes and fears of mankind throughout the ages all over the pantheon of his creation. The entire world was the colour of vomit, and for what seemed like a lifetime, although I was in the middle of a crowd of 1500 people together with my then lover and many of my closest friends, I felt utterly desolate in a world that God - or at least the oldest God known to mankind - had deserted.
It was a feeling that I never want to experience
again, and it is the reason why I always celebrate today - the day when the sun
begins its slow inexorable return.
Another visit to our old friend Thom the World Poet
http://gonzo-multimedia.blogspot.com/2013/12/thom-world-poet-daily-poem_21.html
Today's Track of the Day is by George Harrison
http://gonzo-multimedia.blogspot.com/2013/12/the-gonzo-track-of-day-george-harrison.html
http://gonzo-multimedia.blogspot.com/2013/12/the-gonzo-track-of-day-george-harrison.html
A Belgian review of Crystal Grenade
http://gonzo-multimedia.blogspot.com/2013/12/belgian-review-of-crystal-grenade.html
http://gonzo-multimedia.blogspot.com/2013/12/belgian-review-of-crystal-grenade.html
Zappa lives! With Project/Object at Grey Eagle
http://gonzo-multimedia.blogspot.com/2013/12/zappa-lives-with-projectobject-at-grey.html
http://gonzo-multimedia.blogspot.com/2013/12/zappa-lives-with-projectobject-at-grey.html
STRANGE FRUIT #51 playlist
http://gonzo-multimedia.blogspot.com/2013/12/strange-fruit-51-playlist.html
http://gonzo-multimedia.blogspot.com/2013/12/strange-fruit-51-playlist.html
* The Gonzo Daily is a two-way process. If you have any news or want to write for us, please contact me at jon@eclipse.co.uk. If you are an artist and want to showcase your work or even just say hello, please write to me at gonzo@cfz.org.uk. Please copy, paste and spread the word about this magazine as widely as possible. We need people to read us in order to grow, and as soon as it is viable we shall be invading more traditional magaziney areas. Join in the fun, spread the word, and maybe if we all chant loud enough we CAN stop it raining. See you tomorrow....
* The Gonzo Daily is - as the name implies - a daily online magazine (mostly) about artists connected to the Gonzo Multimedia group of companies. But it also has other stuff as and when the editor feels like it. The same team also do a weekly newsletter called - imaginatively - The Gonzo Weekly. Find out about it at this link: www.gonzo-multimedia.blogspot.com/2012/11/all-gonzo-news-wots-fit-to-print.html
* We should probably mention here that some of our posts are links to
things we have found on the internet that we think are of interest. We are not
responsible for spelling or factual errors in other people's websites. Honest
guv!
* Jon Downes, the editor of all these ventures (and several others), is an old hippy of 54 who - together with his orange cat (who is currently on sick leave in Staffordshire) and two very small kittens (one of whom is also orange) - puts it all together from a converted potato shed in a tumbledown cottage deep in rural Devon, which he shares with various fish and sometimes a small Indian frog. He is ably assisted by his lovely wife Corinna, his bulldog/boxer Prudence, his elderly mother-in-law and a motley collection of social malcontents. Plus... did we mention the orange cat?
* Jon Downes, the editor of all these ventures (and several others), is an old hippy of 54 who - together with his orange cat (who is currently on sick leave in Staffordshire) and two very small kittens (one of whom is also orange) - puts it all together from a converted potato shed in a tumbledown cottage deep in rural Devon, which he shares with various fish and sometimes a small Indian frog. He is ably assisted by his lovely wife Corinna, his bulldog/boxer Prudence, his elderly mother-in-law and a motley collection of social malcontents. Plus... did we mention the orange cat?
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