Am I myself today?
Usually I signal when I turn, when Iím driving, because no one else does, which annoys me and also I donít want to get plowed into by some tail-gating LA-lite who is too busy talking on his Bluetooth to notice what is going on in front of him. Today I went right and didnít signal, and a biker yelled at me. ďWhy donít you use your freakiní sigÖ!!Ē he said, twisting around in his seat as he passed so that he could aim his volume right at me. But then he saw my face and knew that I hadnít meant to, and trailed off.
It all happened very real-life fast, yet moment slow.
Then I was in the elevator. It stopped on the first floor on the way up from the parking garage. In came a man. Instead of saying hi, I just sort of stood in the corner like a quiet girl. So the man didnít say hi, but simply shuffled through his mail and checked what had come via Netflix. Silence for three floors, and then the elevator was mine.
Not that shared quiet is an unwise thing: The unwise thing is that most people do not acknowledge what is right in front of their face; that we donít acknowledge one another.
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see. . .
Also, M.Sto, I get it now. True, everyone likes Beatles music. I mean I liked it fine when I was little despite throwing a fit when you tried to hijack the radio in the car. Itís not like any person is considering the music bad, after all; even if they donít want to listen to it for whatever reason.
Sometimes I used to wire up the old record player, dig out a Beatles record and listen while lying on my back on the floor feet up on the couch in the foyer sitting room in the dark when no one was home. Until one day we were like, ďWhy do we have a record player next to the CD player? It only collects dust.Ē So the record player was packed away to the back of the crawl space. Maybe even sold at a yard sale. So yeah, no one is saying The Beatles arenít good.
But now? I get it.
Two years ago I got Pink Floyd. Sixth months ago? Zeppelin.
And now; The Beatles.
Some things you have to discover on your own.
Here is what Iíll say to older generations:
The idea of making a musical set to Beatles music was so terribly bound to fail, that I thought it might actually work. The truth? Horrific. Iím really sorry to everyone who grew up in the time when The Beatles defined music and movement. The filmmakers might have tapped that energy, the energy of the Ď60s. I might like to know what that felt like. In fact, Iím certain thatís what I paid for, and didnít get.
I feel like this is somehow my generationís, younger generationsí, fault.
But you know, as usual itís that generation, the Baby Boomers, the make changer-ers, who are all status quo and settled and useless. Thatís who made the decisions on this film. So why do I feel like itís my fault?
And how is it possible that so many unwise jackasses own various rights to some of the most wise, impactful, meaningful works of art? Yes I know itís all more complicated than that; except when it isnít.
The worst part is, the filmmakers dicked around in the most mainstream way and called it art. Way to leverage your Beatles library, Sony. Way to sell out your whole generation, everything you stood for, and the moments of your life that make up the better part of who you are.
Humanity has an incredible ability to forget.
It all happens very real-life fast, yet moment slow.
Here is what Iíll say to younger generations:
When all the new music sucks (and it frequently does) take a spin through the past to realize our present.
Here is what Iíll say to everyone:
Storytelling, art, performance, music, entertainment, showÖ Itís a powder keg, a catalyst and you ought to be more careful. It can be that fast, or that slow; shifting the ideological plates that form the foundation of the human experienceÖ Oh I know itís not quite as heavy as all that; except when it is.
It all happens very real-life fast, yet moment slow...
Because the world is round it turns me on
Because the world is roundÖ
Because the wind is high it blows my mind
Because the wind is highÖ
Love is all, love is new
Love is all, love is you
Because the sky is blue it makes me cry
Because the sky is blue...
You say that Iím young, and that I donít know anything.
Maybe I know what you forgot.
People go to war over stories.
. . .
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