In My Life

Part of a thread with John over at otherhalflive

I watched John flick through my record collection with a curious eye. I wondered how many of the people he would know about. He had met Joanie, Dylan and Donovan, knew Marianne a bit, but that had to be about it. He might not even recognise Dusty on the front of the Springfields' LP from before she grew her hair and went blonde.

Once John was done scrutinising my folk LPs, he picked a song and held the sheet out to me. I bit my lip in anticipation as I read the title of the song he wanted to hear. 'Silver Dagger'. Interesting choice.

"Ah, Joanie taught me that one. I'm not sure how much you'll like it though," I said with a wicked smile, appreciating the irony that my husband should pick a folk song that was so anti-men and anti-marriage.

I was surprised to find that all my nerves melted away the moment I began to play. I understood why. Playing for John was no different than playing for Joanie or Dick and Mimi, her brother in law and sister, or for Donovan or anyone else. No matter how better they were than me, people who knew and loved me would want to hear me play. And they might even like it.

After a short introduction, I began to sing:

"Don't sing love songs, you'll wake my mother
She's sleeping here right by my side
And in her right hand a silver dagger,
She says that I can't be your bride.

"All men are false, says my mother,
They'll tell you wicked, lovin' lies.
The very next evening, they'll court another,
Leave you alone to pine and sigh.

My daddy is a handsome devil
He's got a chain five miles long,
And on every link a heart does dangle
Of another maid he's loved and wronged."

I broke of singing then for an instrumental break, stretching out to see how much I could impress John with my figerpicking technique. I knew he wasn't friends with that many folk singers, so it was possible that he'd never seen anyone play guitar this way at such close range. I felt a shiver of excitement as I imagined his no doubt stunned reaction at the end of the song.

Before I resumed singing, I told him, "Joanie didn't teach me these next two verses - I found them on one of those records."

"I wish that I was some little sparrow
Yes, one of those that flies so high
I'd fly away to my false-true lover
And when he speaks, I would deny

"Upon his breast I'd lie and flutter
With my little tender wings
I'd ask him who he meant to flatter
Or who he meant to deceive

Go court another tender maiden,
And hope that she will be your wife,
For I've been warned, and I've decided
To sleep alone all of my life."

lol

This is all set in the movie theatre towards the beginning of the story. There are a few gaps. [...] means either I'll cut to Jack and Monday at this point or I'll find a way to bridge the gap without jumping time periods.

( Read more... )

Someone's got it in for me, they're planting stories in the press
Whoever it is I wish they'd cut it out but when they will I can only guess.
They say I shot a man named Gray and took his wife to Italy,
She inherited a million bucks and when she died it came to me.
I can't help it if I'm lucky.

People see me all the time and they just can't remember how to act
Their minds are filled with big ideas, images and distorted facts.
Even you, yesterday you had to ask me where it was at,
I couldn't believe after all these years, you didn't know me better than that
Sweet lady.

Idiot wind, blowing every time you move your mouth,
Blowing down the backroads headin' south.
Idiot wind, blowing every time you move your teeth,
You're an idiot, babe.
It's a wonder that you still know how to breathe.

I ran into the fortune-teller, who said beware of lightning that might strike
I haven't known peace and quiet for so long I can't remember what it's like.
There's a lone soldier on the cross, smoke pourin' out of a boxcar door,
You didn't know it, you didn't think it could be done, in the final end he won the wars
After losin' every battle.

I woke up on the roadside, daydreamin' 'bout the way things sometimes are
Visions of your chestnut mare shoot through my head and are makin' me see stars.
You hurt the ones that I love best and cover up the truth with lies.
One day you'll be in the ditch, flies buzzin' around your eyes,
Blood on your saddle.

Idiot wind, blowing through the flowers on your tomb,
Blowing through the curtains in your room.
Idiot wind, blowing every time you move your teeth,
You're an idiot, babe.
It's a wonder that you still know how to breathe.

It was gravity which pulled us down and destiny which broke us apart
You tamed the lion in my cage but it just wasn't enough to change my heart.
Now everything's a little upside down, as a matter of fact the wheels have stopped,
What's good is bad, what's bad is good, you'll find out when you reach the top
You're on the bottom.

I noticed at the ceremony, your corrupt ways had finally made you blind
I can't remember your face anymore, your mouth has changed, your eyes
don't look into mine.
The priest wore black on the seventh day and sat stone-faced while the building
burned.
I waited for you on the running boards, near the cypress trees, while the springtime
turned Slowly into autumn.

Idiot wind, blowing like a circle around my skull,
From the Grand Coulee Dam to the Capitol.
Idiot wind, blowing every time you move your teeth,
You're an idiot, babe.
It's a wonder that you still know how to breathe.

I can't feel you anymore, I can't even touch the books you've read
Every time I crawl past your door, I been wishin' I was somebody else instead.
Down the highway, down the tracks, down the road to ecstasy,
I followed you beneath the stars, hounded by your memory
And all your ragin' glory.

I been double-crossed now for the very last time and now I'm finally free,
I kissed goodbye the howling beast on the borderline which separated you from me.
You'll never know the hurt I suffered nor the pain I rise above,
And I'll never know the same about you, your holiness or your kind of love,
And it makes me feel so sorry.

Idiot wind, blowing through the buttons of our coats,
Blowing through the letters that we wrote.
Idiot wind, blowing through the dust upon our shelves,
We're idiots, babe.
It's a wonder we can even feed ourselves.

You got a lotta nerve
To say you are my friend
When I was down
You just stood there grinning

You got a lotta nerve
To say you got a helping hand to lend
You just want to be on
The side that's winning

You say I let you down
You know it's not like that
If you're so hurt
Why then don't you show it

You say you lost your faith
But that's not where it's at
You had no faith to lose
And you know it

I know the reason
That you talk behind my back
I used to be among the crowd
You're in with

Do you take me for such a fool
To think I'd make contact
With the one who tries to hide
What he don't know to begin with

You see me on the street
You always act surprised
You say, "How are you?" "Good luck"
But you don't mean it

When you know as well as me
You'd rather see me paralyzed
Why don't you just come out once
And scream it

No, I do not feel that good
When I see the heartbreaks you embrace
If I was a master thief
Perhaps I'd rob them

And now I know you're dissatisfied
With your position and your place
Don't you understand
It's not my problem

I wish that for just one time
You could stand inside my shoes
And just for that one moment
I could be you

Yes, I wish that for just one time
You could stand inside my shoes
You'd know what a drag it is
To see you

Once upon a time you dressed so fine
You threw the bums a dime in your prime, didn't you?
People'd call, say, "Beware doll, you're bound to fall"
You thought they were all kiddin' you
You used to laugh about
Everybody that was hangin' out
Now you don't talk so loud
Now you don't seem so proud
About having to be scrounging for your next meal.

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be without a home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

You've gone to the finest school all right, Miss Lonely
But you know you only used to get juiced in it
And nobody has ever taught you how to live on the street
And now you find out you're gonna have to get used to it
You said you'd never compromise
With the mystery tramp, but now you realize
He's not selling any alibis
As you stare into the vacuum of his eyes
And ask him do you want to make a deal?

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

You never turned around to see the frowns on the jugglers and the clowns
When they all come down and did tricks for you
You never understood that it ain't no good
You shouldn't let other people get your kicks for you
You used to ride on the chrome horse with your diplomat
Who carried on his shoulder a Siamese cat
Ain't it hard when you discover that
He really wasn't where it's at
After he took from you everything he could steal.

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

Princess on the steeple and all the pretty people
They're drinkin', thinkin' that they got it made
Exchanging all kinds of precious gifts and things
But you'd better lift your diamond ring, you'd better pawn it babe
You used to be so amused
At Napoleon in rags and the language that he used
Go to him now, he calls you, you can't refuse
When you got nothing, you got nothing to lose
You're invisible now, you got no secrets to conceal.

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

I'm sorry I haven't been on this week. I've been in trouble with my parents for staying up too late and so they haven't let me on the internet since Monday. Hopefully I'll be able to post to various places this lunchtime before I go home and I might get my computer back this weekend. Maybe.

( Read more... )

( rough and mostly unedited )

My story has reached 10000 words and there's still plenty more to come! I'm rather pleased with myself at the moment. I might post another extract (this time starring Cyn) if anyone's interested in reading it. All you have to do is nag me and I'll post something.

I'm changing the narrative from 1st person to 3rd person as I adapt it. This gives me a chance to do something a bit different with the text I'm playing with. It's interesting seeing Cynthia from a different perspective and I definitely think this mode of narration works better in story form.

Jack gazed curiously into Monday's face to check if she really had fallen asleep. He was surprised to see that she was still wide awake and staring straight up at him. Her eyes awash with tears buttheeuphoric expression on her face showed him they couldn't be born from sadness. At least not entirely. The album had moved him too, a great deal more than he thought it would, and he'd almost lost the unconscious battle against his own urge to cry.

"You felt it, didn't you?" Monday asked as she wiped her tears away with the back of her hand.

"Yeah, I felt it stronger than I ever have before." Jack wrapped his arms around Monday and she settled into him as easily as if they'd been lovers for years rather than merely hours. He placed a kiss on top of her head before resting his cheek and whispering into her wild curls, "Thank you."

Oh, how much did he wish he could be there the next night she listened to this record and the next but that was clearly never going to happen. You didn't pick up a pretty girl for the night and then decide you wanted to go out with her properly. That just wasn't how it worked. Besides, the sort of girls who'd spend the night with him weren't really the sort of girls he'd want glued to his arm wherever he went. He was glad to see the back of them after that one night.

Monday was different in that respect. He just wished he'd realised how well he'd get on with her before diving in dick first. They might have become friends. At least then he could have kept on seeing her, always with the hope the initial friendship with give way into something more. Now he'd either have to forget about her or begin an awkward friendship or relationship with a near-stranger.

Jack began to flick through her record collection. When the first few discs he turned up were those of Bob Dylan, Joan Baez and Woody Guthrie, he suspected he was seeing a pattern. But from there on in, things got interesting. Smiley Lewis,  Fats Domino and Bob Wills & His Texas Playboys. In response to his questioning look, she told him they'd been recommended by a friend. He also spotted some Pink Floyd and Queen in there, two groups he heartily approved of, as well as a great number of 60s bands. No albums by the Beatles, though. Now that confused him. For someone who was clearly such a fan of music from the 1960s, to not have anything by the Beatles just seemed completely nonsensical.

"Where are all your Beatles records?" Jack asked her as he wandered over to the bed with the only Dylan album he'd found among the pile. It was one from a few years ago, when Bob was still a bit mental with that whole Christian phase. Jack had heard he was over that now but you never could be sure with Dylan.

"Oh, that's not my full collection," Monday said with a glowing smile. "That's just what I've been listening since the last time I was arsed to tidy up. Didn't think I'd have company tonight."

"So where..."

With a casual shrug of those delicate shoulders, lifting her hair ever so slightly and letting it tumble teasingly back over her breast, she said, "All that stuff's away with the rest of my Da-Dylan albums."

Jack tore his eyes reluctantly away from her to glance at the record again. It wasn't the first one he'd have chosen, quite frankly. His musical tastes had fallen out of sync with Bob Dylan's in recent years.

"But you've been listening to this one?"

"Every night before I go to bed," Monday told him with a wistful smile. "Or I'll listen to Every Grain of Sand at the very least."

"I don't think I know that one," he confessed sheepishly. Once upon a time, he'd been the one insisting to his disbelieving friends that this John Lennon album or that Bob Dylan song would change their lives forever. Now he couldn't even keep up with the man's recent work.

"Well, you must hear it. You absolutely must!" Monday told him, her pale eyes suddenly alight with blue fire. "Every time I listen to it, I think you'll understand this, it gets me right here."

And she lay a hand over her heart. Jack carefully covered he hand with his own. Slowly, he slid his hand to cup her breast as her mercury mouth moved to press against his.

"I do understand. I used to get that feeling, but I haven't for such a long time."

Arriving in America, a proud Brian Espstein standing with us.

More pictures comparing Johnny and Bobby. More to come whenever I come across them.


THE hat




( You just want to be on the side that's winning )

When John met Cynthia we knew that something had happened; we knew that some great thing had happened although we didn't quite know what. John was totally on edge and disappearing and then eventually, I do remember him hanging out of the window at Mendips in his bedroom waiting for the bus, and I was there with Mimi that day, and he was waiting for Cynthia to get off the bus from Penny Lane.
She came in and I thought she was absolutely beautiful and of course she is. She's got that sort of bone structure that if she's a hundred she'll be beautiful. She's just a beautiful woman isn't she? She's beautiful inside and out, she's a lovely lady. I don't think anyone who knows her would disagree with that.
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Found: http://sentstarr.tripod.com/beatgirls/cynquote2.html

"I met Cynthia at art school. She was a right Hoylake runt. Dead snobby. We used to poke fun at her and mock her, me and Geoff Mohammed. 'Quiet Please,' we'd shout, 'No dirty jokes, It's Cynthia.' We had a class dance and I asked her to dance. Geoff had been having me on, saying, 'Cynthia likes you, you know.' As we danced I asked her to come to a party the next day. She said she couldn't. She was engaged." - John Lennon

"John asked me to dance and I nearly died. Bingo! I then amazed myself by being very cool, calm and collected outwardly-inside I was out of this world. The dance was slow and smoochy. I was aloof and John, I think, was slightly embarrassed. It was all very painful and beautiful at the same time. The remaining students were looking on with puzzled expressions at such an unlikely combination." - Cynthia Lennon

( Read more... )

Found: http://sentstarr.tripod.com/beatgirls/cynquote.html

I would like to introduce you to my husband, John Lennon, and my secret lover ahem close friend, Bob Dylan. They're both quite shy underneath their cool exteriors, so forgive them if they try to hide now they've realised what I'm doing.





( Come on, boys, you can so better than that! )

On the way to America with John. Trying to catch his eye while he remains oblivious. Alas, this happens all too often.