I remember playing this game ages ago; or at least it seems like ages though it’s only been some two or so years. I always had to take a seat next to Gigi the Big Daddy, my unforgettable former colleague and a great friend to these days — if I didn’t, I’d had seen his face, meaning I’d had laughed uncontrollably during the game.

We used to call it meeting bingo, though some people use more explicit bullshit bingo instead and Wikipedia calls it nicely buzzword bingo. Still the same game. Impatiently crossing square by square, waiting for the release.

Fate it seems is not without a sense of irony, as Morpheus put it. Now, when I’m compiling a presentation I’m happy to add a vogue word here and there. Market growth, cross-selling, deliverance, goal-driven, partner activation, continuous campaigning, volatile market, streamlining, ease of use, in the pipeline — these are just few that made it to my last one. One could easily throw up just reading it, not even mentioning watching my pigface presenting such blatant nonsense.

But hey — I’m only doing it to hear BINGO!!! yelled at me at some point. ‘Cos I can leverage on my audience being activated by my streamlined presentation. In the volatile market, market growth results in the pipeline are all about goal-driven partner activation, continuous campaigning and deliverance through cross-selling and ease of use.

What was I talking about?

Honestly, I hate writing these lines. Rick Wright has died earlier today, aged 65. I don’t want to write anything about how sad it is and about sorrow that fills me, knowing I won’t have a chance to hear another ingenious psychedelic tune from Master Richard.

Just want to mention two personal experiences I had with Pink Floyd.

First, it was 1994. It was early September and Pink Floyd were cruising Europe with their Division Bell tour. I hanged out in Prague on the eve of 7 September and I was hesitating if to go to Pink Floyd concert or go home and see a girlfriend of mine whom I didn’t see for some three weeks. I guess you all know what I chose. Life’s always about making decisions. I’m not sorry and I’m sorry — it’s schizophrenic, I know. That’s the way it is.

It turned out to be the very last Pink Floyd tour; they disbanded afterwards and seeing them live became an unreachable dream. Well, until…

Second, eleven years later, 2005. I just returned from Australia, coming to Prague just in time for Live 8. And for my girlfriend’s birthday. I could swiftly fly to London and back, no problem, but Gabriel told me he wasn’t going there either. So I watched the concert simultaneously online and on the TV, almost crying hearing Shine On Your Crazy Diamond and them sending their love to Syd. That time I knew that was it. There won’t be any more chances. When Rick, Nick, Dave and Roger hugged on stage, it was the end. A very vivid but inevitable end of the legend.

We’re three years later and Syd and Rick are already over there, playing the great gig in the sky.

And I am not frightened of dying
any time will do, I don’t mind.
Why should I be frightened of dying?
There’s no reason for it, you’ve gotta go sometime.

If you can hear this whispering you are dying.

I never said I was frightened of dying.

If you saw a strange looking figure down at the river bank in Prague this afternoon, it might had been me. And if that poor bugger wore a red Apple tee and a blue shorts, it must had been me. You could also find out quite easily if that pitiful soul waved his hands uncontrollably, trying to stick to the track and move forward.

Yes, it was me inline skating. My first attempt ever.

First off, I found it extremely difficult to stand — and once I managed to put myself to an upright position, even more fun started. Something that could vaguely remind someone of skating, I’d say. However, only vaguely, as I was unable to turn, unable to brake, unable to skate uphill or downhill.

Particularly downhill skating seemed to be the biggest issue. As I was unable to break — unless you wish to call a jump to a nearby bush breaking — gaining critical speed rolling downhill made me understand the value of life.

Yet I’m glad to report that I survived; so you hopefully get a chance to see the newest attraction of Prague — the waving wretch on skates sometime next weekend again.

I went to Brno over the weekend to join participants of Red Bull káry (trolley) competition. I knew it would be lots of crazy fun ever since I was asked to team up with Rui, my Portuguese friend, currently living in the town of Klatovy. It was his idea to built a car and come over.

Rui built The Love Lednička — lednička means fridge in Czech. I’m putting it exactly as he had — half English, half Czech. The four-wheeled lednička was equipped with a freezer (for drinks), a seat (for kids during the presentation, for Rui during the race) and breaks (a really essential part). Painted in blue and green, with a spoiler and with a crew of five crazy misfits dressed a bit hippie, with large bushy wigs, funny glasses and unstoppable good mood, the gang of Flower Power was ready to rock and roll.

Fun started on Saturday night. Roughly 200 contestants were united in a party, together with bunch of great looking Red Bull girls. Without going too much into detail, truth is that vodka with Red Bull is a killer drink. Everybody knows, though.

Sunday was boiling hot. Competitors were presenting their vehicles to endless brownian-motion-like moving crowd and trying to find an inch of shade wherever they could. Heat was hardly bearable, waiting for our turn was agonising.

What we did to kill the time and entertain the spectators was… a song. Rui was singing Marley’s Is This Love and playing guitar so we quickly changed the words. Our world-class collaboration brought this Red Bull song to life in less than ten minutes:

I want Red Bull
And drink it right
We have Red Bull
And a cool life

We love Red Bull
Help us win the fight
We drink Red Bull
Every day & every night

This is love
This is love
This is love
This is love
Love lednička

Those few simple lines were enough to last us until it was Rui’s turn to trip downhill. He went down with grace, waving onlookers as he passed by. And the breaking at the finish was top-notch. Overall, we earned the sixth place out of 45 teams!!

And I’m already thinking about another trolley or maybe a plane… And more so, about another beautifully senseless song.

Do you associate a song with a certain event or vice versa? I do — quite often — not intentionally but rather subconsciously. It just happens to be that way. When I hear a song, I can re-create an occasion; or another similar moment reminds me of a certain tune.

Take The Beatles. I can link their music to the particular time of my youth. I was listening to Help! when I was in the seventh grade; Rubber Soul was my favourite in the eight one. White Album by the summer of that year, just before Let It Be took over completely. Lennon came next and Plastic Ono Band ruled my days as I advanced to the grammar school.

I remember discotheques by a DJ’s favourite track. T Club, a Uni club where I used to hang out while underaged — Forever Young. A high school ski trip — What a Wonderful World. A disco at school premises — I Love To Hate You. My last trip to the border of civilisation with a bunch of young mathematicians — Violently Happy. I could go on and on like that for hours.

Mentioning What a Wonderful World, there’s something else crossing my mind. Songs that are forever a part of one’s memory because of technology: people have learnt to set their own ringtones or alarm tunes that follow them through months until they become annoying and get changed. I had few ringtones replaced, yet I’ve been waking up to Israel Kamakawiwo’ole’s rendition of What a Wonderful World/Over the Rainbow since 2005, and it seems it’s not giving up.

Then, there are numbers that are shared and have untouchable intimate quality… ‘Cos one happened to listen to them while being with someone exceptional; and those are moments that are rendered unforgettable. It may be ironic enough that one can recall also tunes used to heal (or enjoy) a broken heart. How good is Stand by My Woman or Into My Arms? How weird can Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft sound?

And a very special category are the songs written for somebody. I managed to pen one or two clumsy ones (with indisputable Gabriel’s help) and seeing they work, they give a loved one goose pimples or make her cry — because she’s been touched! — is the most rewarding experience. Simply amazing.

Of course, fame and money would not hurt either. (But hey, that’s just me trying to be sarcastic to hide that I’m sentimental…)