The Wall, Pink Floyd, and Other Cultural Refernces

Near the end of my second grade year at SMS, I was called up to the stage of the eighth grade talent show(attendance of which was mandatory) to introduce an act. The cute girls in their frilly dresses led me up the stage and gave me a handful of note cards. One of the girls pointed to a line, encouraging me to read. I read. It just so happened that I had introduced the band that would shape my psychological and moral development over the next six years. Although I don't remember the band's name, I do remember that one of my eighth grade friends was in it, and I do remember the song that they played: Another Brick in the Wall, Pt. 2. This inspired me to bother my father for the next week to download the track to iTunes so I could listen to it in the car on the way to school(it was a private school, there weren't any buses).

Three years later, having quickly grown tired of the song, my music taste having expanded to include such bands as Offspring, the Cars, the Rolling Stones, the Beatles, Green Day, Foreigner, and Styx, I went on a school trip to Quebec for French over the Summer. This trip spawned one of my greatest discoveries: podcasts. Realizing that the hotels we were to stay in wouldn't have Internet access, or good Internet access at that, so, instead of digesting my normal s****y gaming Yogscast content that I usually did(Note: I detest almost all of the content the Yogscast publishes currently), I found a loophole: I hadn't listened to their old podcast, started in 2009: the Yogpod. I listened to these podcasts on all four of the six-twelve hour bus rides. In one of the early episodes, a Pink Floyd song was mentioned: Money, the bass riff that one of the hosts hummed immediately catching my eye, I knew that I would have to listen to the track in full. Sadly, I had completely forgotten about it when I fell asleep on the first bus ride.

That trip also inspired another shocking coincidence, in the form of a tattered building in Montreal. One of my friends, Drew, who was two years older than I was, predicted that it was a Canadian government building, only to be proven wrong by my other friend, Ben(who was also two years older than me), who, only moments later, pointed to a tall, luxurious building in the distance, saying, "No, I bet that's the capital." Drew then pointed out that "Well, the s****y building is probably just the illuminati's building." Then, I, on a whim, corrected Drew, "No, Drew, we're in a foreign land, you need to respect the language: We're in Canada, so it's the Illuminateh?!" That joke, I soon came to find, was also used in the Yogpod, in one of their latest episodes at that time.

Near the end of the Canada trip, our French teacher had the brilliant idea of having us watch an interactive improv show... An interactive improv show IN ENGLISH!!! The show did, however, remind me of a certain song. For some reason, when tasked with summarizing the plot of Inception, this improv lady started humming the guitar riff to Money, which sparked my interest in the song again, and therefore, Pink Floyd again. In later years, I acquired a few more tracks from the Wall, eventually deciding to download the entire album, along with the entire Dark Side of the Moon to my iPhone.

I realize now, having listened to it in its entirety, along with the film version, that the Wall has always spoken to me: from Pink's thin mental state in the Thin ice, to the Schoolmaster's constant abuse in the Happiest Days of Our Lives, to Pink's feelings of his self-inflicted isolation in the entire A-side of the second disc, to his mental and psychological battle over Pink's morals and isolation in the Trial, I see Pink inside of me. I too wish for power and fame(In the Flesh), I too wish for vengeance against those who have hurt me(Young Lust). No, there will not be a sudden realization that I am Pink: I guess I'm just saying that I really enjoy the Wall because I feel like it gets its themes and emotions across really well, which is something that I've struggled with in both poetry and regular story-telling. Oh yeah, I write short stories, books, and poems. They're s**t. Don't look at them. Unless you want to. But... Don't