The Hammock Papers: Pink Floyd

Showing posts with label Pink Floyd. Show all posts

12 February 2026

28 May 2025

Circling.

Ohio Stadium, on this night in 1988 ...

A soul in tension that's learning to fly
Condition grounded but determined to try
Can't keep my eyes from the circling skies
Tongue-tied and twisted, just an Earth-bound misfit, I ...

14 January 2025

David Gilmour, "Time/Breathe (Reprise)"

He's better than ever ...

05 December 2024

28 May 2024

Determined.

Ohio Stadium, on this night in 1988 ...

A soul in tension that's learning to fly
Condition grounded but determined to try
Can't keep my eyes from the circling skies
Tongue-tied and twisted, just an earth-bound misfit, I ...

17 January 2024

Pink Floyd, "Coming Back to Life"

David flying solo ...

06 March 2023

Happy Birthday, Gilmour

David Gilmour was born on this day in 1946.

"Astronomy Domine" ...

28 May 2022

Pink Floyd, "Learning to Fly"

Ohio Stadium, on this night in 1988 ...

A soul in tension that's learning to fly
Condition grounded but determined to try
Can't keep my eyes from the circling skies
Tongue-tied and twisted, just an earth-bound misfit, I

Thank you, Hannelore.

06 March 2022

Happy Birthday, Gilmour

David Gilmour was born on this day in 1946.

"Coming Back to Life" ...

21 March 2021

Pink Floyd, ¨Grantchester Meadows¨

20 July 2019

09 May 2018

13 September 2017

David Gilmour, "One of These Days"

David Gilmour's performance of Pink Floyd's "One of These Days" from his 2016 concert at Pompeii (premiering tonight for a one-night engagement at a theater near you) ...

06 July 2017

Pink Floyd, "Grantchester Meadows"

Icy wind of nights be gone this is not your domain”

In the sky a bird is heard to cry

Misty morning whisperings and gentle stirring sounds

Belied the deathly silence that lay all around

Hear the lark and harken to the barking of the dog fox

Gone to ground

See the splashing of the kingfisher flashing to the water

And a river of green is sliding unseen beneath the trees

Laughing as it passes through the endless summer, making for the sea

In the lazy water meadow I lay me down

All around me golden sun flakes covering the ground

Basking in the sunshine of a bygone afternoon

Bringing sounds of yesterday into this city room

Hear the lark and harken to the barking of the dog fox

Gone to ground

See the splashing of the kingfisher flashing to the water

And a river of green is sliding unseen beneath the trees

Laughing as it passes through the endless summer, making for the sea

BARRY HINES

"That's why it makes me mad when I take her out and I'll hear somebody say, 'Look, there's Billy Casper there wi' his pet hawk. I could shout at 'em; it's not a pet, Sir, hawks are not pets. Or when folks stop me and say, 'Is it tame?' Is it heck tame, it's trained that's all. It's fierce, and it's wild, an' it's not bothered about anybody, not even about me, right. And that's why it's great.Look, there's Billy Casper there wi' his pet hawk.' I could shout at 'em. It's not a pet, Sir. Hawks are not pets. Or when folks stop me and say, 'Is it tame?' Is it heck tame, it's trained, that's all. It's fierce, and it's wild, an' it's not bothered about anybody, not even about me right. And that's why it's great." (A Kestrel for a Knave)

WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART

"When I am, as it were, completely myself, entirely alone and of good cheer – say travelling in a carriage or walking after a good meal, or during the night when I cannot sleep – it is on such occasions that my ideas flow best and most abundantly. Whence, and how, they come I know not ; nor can I force them. Those ideas that please me I retain in memory and am accustomed, as I have been told, to hum them to myself. If I continue in this way, it soon occurs to me how I may turn this dainty morsel to account, so as to make a good dish of it. That is to say, agreeable to the rules of counterpoint, to the peculiarities of various instruments etc. All this fires my soul, and, provided I am not disturbed, my subject enlarges itself, becomes methodised, and defined, and the whole, though it be long, stands almost complete and finished in my mind, so that I can survey it like a fine picture or a beautiful statue at a glance. Nor do I hear in my imagination the parts successively, but I hear them, as it were, all at once. What a delight this is, I cannot tell."

WALT WHITMAN

The spotted hawk swoops by and accuses me, he complains of my gab and my loitering. I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world. The last scud of day holds back for me, It flings my likeness after the rest and true as any on the shadow’d wilds, It coaxes me to the vapor and the dusk. I depart as air, I shake my white locks at the runaway sun, I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy jags. I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love, If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles. You will hardly know who I am or what I mean, But I shall be good health to you nevertheless, And filter and fibre your blood. Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged, Missing me one place search another, I stop somewhere waiting for you.

MARCUS AURELIUS

"Is your cucumber bitter? Throw it away. Are there briars in your path? Turn aside. That is enough. Do not go on and say, 'Why were things of this sort ever brought into this world?' neither intolerable nor everlasting - if thou bearest in mind that it has its limits, and if thou addest nothing to it in imagination. Pain is either an evil to the body (then let the body say what it thinks of it!)-or to the soul. But it is in the power of the soul to maintain its own serenity and tranquility."

VINCENT van GOGH

"What am I in the eyes of most people? A nonentity or an oddity or a disagreeable person — someone who has and will have no position in society, in short a little lower than the lowest. Very well — assuming that everything is indeed like that, then through my work I’d like to show what there is in the heart of such an oddity, such a nobody. This is my ambition, which is based less on resentment than on love in spite of everything, based more on a feeling of serenity than on passion. Even though I’m often in a mess, inside me there’s still a calm, pure harmony and music. In the poorest little house, in the filthiest corner, I see paintings or drawings. And my mind turns in that direction as if with an irresistible urge. As time passes, other things are increasingly excluded, and the more they are the faster my eyes see the picturesque. Art demands persistent work, work in spite of everything, and unceasing observation."