I am fascinated by the effect of a strobe light.
I'm not sure when my first exposure to this incredible invention happened. I suppose I saw some old 60's-70's hippy videos on late night TV or something. I dunno. Circa my 18th year of life, I decided to search for this miraculous device. But it was to no avail. Apparently it had just been too many years since the 70's hippy hayday and no longer to be found. Drats, I thought, drats.
However, my Mom found one at some yard sale later that year. Eureka!
I proudly brought this magic maker to my oh so avante garde punk rock bands' next practice. I hooked it up and figured that it would give our music a chaotic yet eerily hypnotic effect. One problem was that it made a rythmic clicking noise that was picked up on our PA system, so that it sounded like we had a constantly running clock before, during and after our songs. "What an artistic statement!" proclaimed I, "it portrays the constant march of time and how our lives click, click, click away until our certain and ever nearing death." (If one thinks I am a BS artist supreme these days, you should have heard me in my teens, it was surreal)
This obvious grand artistic statement was lost on these yahoos who were in my band. But the death knell of the great Strobe experiment was that everyone but me was made quite nauseous by the constant flashing Strobe. Weak minds, weak bodies, thought I.
I took my magic lantern home to my burgeoning hot batch pad (I had finally gotten an actual bed) where I was sure it would intensify the strong partying atmosphere there.
There happened to be at this time in my realm a buxom young lady whose name is withheld to protect her identity. (alright, alright, truth be known, I have tried to think of her name for two days to write this entry but can't remember it to save my life just the buxom part...ahem.. so I was a bit slutty, sue me!)
I knew this young lady in the biblical sense, and was looking to reaquaint myself with that knowledge on Saturday night. First there was some prerequisite drinking, of course. We drank somewhere between 6 and 60 beers a piece (at this time cheap, cheap beer like Black Label would have been about all I could afford, classy) and retired to my bed chambers for reasons other than sleeping, although either one of us passing out would have been possible at any moment. Just as things were ummm. "getting interesting" I decided that my magic Strobe light would amplify this experience even more. At first things were going just swimingly, but somewhere between 5 and 50 minutes in, she said, "mumble, mumble, that..mumble...thing...mumble, mumble...is...shrieking...making me....cough, cough,...sick...blehhhhhhhh.
It seems that she went on to throw up all over the place for the next two hours.
The Strobe Light. Well, the band was one thing, but coming between me and my favorite pastime? It was time for the great Strobe experiment to end.
During the various and sundry moving in and outs of the next few years the magic light was left behind or tossed or who knows. The Strobe was lost, but never really forgotten.
Every now and then, to this day, I will sometimes blink my eyes open and shut in a rapid fire manner to replicate the trippy experience of the magic strobe. Try it, it's free!
However, if it makes you feel nauseous, take my advice and don't try it while drunk and in the throes of passion with your significant other or favorite battery powered device. If you do, well, don't say you weren't warned.

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