Grāmata ir sasodīti interesanta, pat ja Vilsonam sasodīti patīk sevis žēlošana un, kā noprotu, autora godu drīzāk pelnījis viņa nu jau bijušais psihoterapeits Lendijs. Tomēr psihedēliskā stuffa iespaids ir patīkami atpazīstams.
(..) There were some subtle but noticeable changes in the music. The whole second side of The Beach Boys Today had been written and arranged while I was high. Compared to previous Beach Boys albums, the music was slower, more plaintive and emotional. The chord patterns were more complex, the productions denser, richer in sound, and my thinking with regard to making records was different. Able to break down songs to precise little increments, I began to deal with each instrument individually, stacking sounds one at a time.
The catalyst was marijuana. With the guys on the road, I felt free to explore the boundaries of my creativity, and that meant smoking pot. I thought creatively when high, in ways I'd never done before. I began smoking every day. I loved being high, loved being in the place it put me. Alone. Out there. In touch with the inner machinations of my emotional epicenter. It altered whole frames of reference, mellowing me out, making me more cerebral, spiritual, increasingly analytical of how I was feeling and what I was thinking.
These were complex feelings and emotions, beyond my ability to express them verbally, except to say that I was in a very creative state of mind. But the shift in thought gushed out of me when I sat down at the piano. Before smoking grass, I was an aggresive piano player, an attacker. I leaned into the keyboard, hard and fast, a balls-out show-off with a teenage soul. But stoned, I didn't want to impress others as much as I sought to express and explore what was going on inside of me, the anxiousness, the fear, the insecurity, and my work began to show this new part of me.
(..)
I could only imagine LSD.
The night arrived. Loren [Schwartz - pazīstams bītņiks, kurš viņu jau bija iepazīstinājis ar zāli] set a scene at his apartment: low lights, Lava LItes, music, something to drink. There was a sacredness to it all - from the way we said hello to the way Loren handed me a small paper stamp and told me to swallow it. (..)
Within fifteen minutes I felt myself stirring. It began with a tension in my neck, like little gnomes grabbing onto my shoulders, and became an all-encompassing fuzziness. Loren suddenly realized I wasn't listening to him. As my guide, he came to my side.
"Are you okay, Brian?"
"A little uptight," I replied.
"Just relax," he said. "Try to relax."
I couldn't. Chilled and higher than I'd ever been, I stood up and didn't move for what Loren later told me was almost an hour, doing nothing more than stare at the undulating liquid in the Lava Lite until I had absorbed its slow rhythm. My brain was a morass of rubber thoughts.
Suddenly, I clicked into the music blasting out of Loren's stereo speakers. As I had been promised, music had never sounded so full and tangible, denser and heavier than any music I'd ever heard. I imagined wading through it like a river, until I felt consumed by it, and just as suddenly as I'd checked into the sounsd I had to paly Loren's piano. I sat down in front of the keyboard - but when I looked down all the white keys appeared fused together into a single note. The chords I'd been poised to play moments ago vanished in my confusion. My mind went blank. I tried to play anyway, but only one finger had the ability to work.
I hit an A.
Boing!
Then I hit it again. Over and over again for half an hour. That's all I was able to play. It freaked me out. What if I couldn't play anymore?
"Oh my God, Loren, I can't play the piano," I wailed.
"What?" he asked. "I'm too high to understand what you're saying."
"I've got to get out of here."
Loren followed me out the front door. I felt as if I was coming unglued. We walked up the street. I spotted a house with a FOR SALE sign in front and shouted, "I have to buy this house! I have to buy this unbelievable house!" Loren convinced me otherwise, and as we continued walking, like a lunatic, I shouted whatever thoughts came into my head. Seeing a strange-looking man turn a corner, I convinced myself he was God, leading me on a journey of my entire life, showing me the tiny seed I'd once been and taking me to the place where I'd finish my life.
Then he vanished. I was lost.
Current Music: Brian Wilson - On A Holiday