Monday, February 1, 2021

I listen to a lot of Pink Floyd

 I mean, just an awful lot of Pink Floyd plays in my ears, especially when I'm writing. My personal preference for just disappearing, especially since it worked perfectly for one of my regular writing breaks, is the "Atom Heart Mother Suite". You do have to be careful though if you let that album play through 'cause if it gets to "Alan's Psychedelic Breakfast" and you haven't had breakfast yet, you're in trouble. I, as a bachelor without cooking talents or even the pretense of rudimentary skills, have failed to learn that lesson now for decades.

Every now and then a song will get in my head. This is not exclusive to just Pink Floyd, but their influence is now about to undergo its first real scrutiny. See, I was writing along, sparking on a brand new Tale with a hot idea. I just needed a name. Not that not having a name was holding me up, it's just that I was using a "John Doe" type place-holder name hoping something sparked. It was as I was beginning to wonder where this guy was from that the name came upon me. I remember thinking that I'd like a name somewhere originating from say the Czech Republic so I did what I often did... I searched for surnames common to that region. Well, the search did reveal a bunch of links but I followed only one, that to an article that caught my eye on certain British names that were about to go extinct. I never did look at any other list.

This is one of those weird things that have happened. I was listening to A Saucer Full of Secrets, just grooving along as I started this article. "Set the Controls For the Heart of the Sun" was winding down as I read the intro. It was as I hit that first name, one with a letter "C", that, well, the next song came on and I had the guy's surname. I mean, it was there, all complete. He had his injured leg, he had his rank fit to the times, he had pretty much all he needed to get up and going but his first name. It's probably easy to guess what lane my mind wandered down next. I mean, I really dig their early stuff.

"Arnold Clegg, Who is in Your Head?" might not be the most reasonable title in the world. It doesn't need to be. It pretty much asks the right question, one which I have only heard hints about as I press those ghouls who sit at my beside for more Tales to tell. See, there have been hints that things go back much further than I've suspected at this point in these Tales, but I've never known exactly when That Which Damned first tasted Man. In the Tales that have shown themselves in the time that followed, there have been hints, and once I eve caught a tiny glimpse, but I have yet to discover that singular soul, at least beyond the depths of Arnold Clegg... and that as well leaves an interesting dilemma which has haunted me since.

This is a short Tale, coming in at 2,560 words. It was a fun one to write though. It came off quick and clean, giving me a few more folk to people Baird's Holler with, faces familiar seen in supporting roles such as the many who stepped in from other Tales to help fill the cast so Arnold Clegg could get the story he deserves. This is how it is done here on the Bajazid.

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