If I was on a bowling team, that would be the name, the Pink Floyd Dogs. We'd all get jackets, black leather ones with pink dogs on the back. The dog is named Floyd.
It's 20 minutes long the song, "Dogs." That's what it is, a song by Pink Floyd from the Animals album. You know, you know. It's a good one though, "Dogs." It's about a bum I've decided. And it does nicely to paint the bleak picture that is that life.
My dad says he'll go to Florida, and just roam. And that's exactly what I thought of, "Dogs." I just texted him, you know Pink Floyd - Dogs? That's you, Florida boy.
I've been meaning to write here a review of Orwell's Down and Out in Paris and London. It does that too, paints an ugly picture of that life—and rightly so. It's a romantic idea maybe, tramping-round, wandering. But the reality is grim.
But some do find happiness everywhere—Miller's Mexican peon, I'm reminded. And maybe that's what it teaches you, that transient life, to hold onto those little bits of glimmering sand through all the mud. Everywhere there is some beauty.