13 February 2003

Today at the Vicarage The

Today at the Vicarage : The Vicarage.

The body is weak but the spirit is willing. I went for an MRI scan on my back yesterday afternoon (half an hour lying inside a long narrow tunnel), and entirely coincidentally, I pulled a muscle in my back yesterday morning, while doing - yes you guessed it - my "back exercises". I therefore arrived in hospital with my body bent at right angles. I trust the process. Clearly, this temporary seizure was heaped upon me, so that the radiographers could gather some informative pictures of a lower back mid spasm. I am slightly more mobile today, but can still not stand upright.

How to make an advantage of such a disadvantage. Well, my immobile state means that my mind must do the walking. So, with mental muscles snapping like whipchords, I have dreamed a dream of a new DGM site. A site where Robert Fripp, King Crimson and yes, even Vicar music, is available for download, still hot from the oven. Where the King Crimson archives await the keen fan, with diaries and photographs to match. Where perhaps even Punk's aberrations can hijack the unwary. A dream not so far removed from the original vision of BootlegTV. A site, which links the artist and the audience in a way that not even the Ethically Admirable DGM Charitable Foundation ever managed.

The man has been taking too many drugs, I hear you say. But, having dreamed the dream, I have dared to go one stage further, and discuss the idea with a web designer in the next village. A small town affair, far removed from the internationally aspirant BootlegTV. My designer friend seemed slightly daunted at the complexity of the database that this will need, but from such humble origins, great oak trees doth grow. And perhaps, there exists out there in cyberspace, an Oracle database whizzkid, keen to help water my seeds.

(on re reading, that last sentence seems more than a little unfortunate. I fear I was carried away in my metaphoria, and the little school boys at the back will be giggling under their desks. Well, let them giggle, I say.)

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