I bought the DVD of Pink Floyd: Live at Pompeii (The Director’s Cut) a year or so ago, but it managed to get filed away in a stack of kids DVDs and I’d forgotten I had it. I was looking through my DVDs last night, trying to find something better to watch than re-runs of […]
I bought the DVD of Pink Floyd: Live at Pompeii (The Director’s Cut) a year or so ago, but it managed to get filed away in a stack of kids DVDs and I’d forgotten I had it.
I was looking through my DVDs last night, trying to find something better to watch than re-runs of house that I’d already seen, and I found said DVD. Given that I was hopped up on goofballs for the throbbing pain behind my cheekbone (I admit it, it was an excuse. My tolerance for meds is so high that they don’t make it not hurt, they just make me not mind the hurt), I decided it was a perfect film to watch.
A little background. I saw this movie when I was about fourteen, at a midnight movie (remember midnight movies?) in Los Gatos, California. These were the days when midnight movies and rock concerts were a dope-smoker’s free for all, so no one cared if we lit up. People used to bring five foot tall bongs to these things. So it was a very stoned, very tripped out crowd. We’d either find an older brother who could drive, or we’d call the parents (mine, usually) who didn’t mind us being stoned.