20 + 20 + 1 + 1/365
It was twenty years ago today that, twenty years ago that day, it was a year ago yesterday that Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band was released.
Sure, that's a long walk for a premise, but I'm still a little mad at myself for not doing "It was 20 years ago today, 20 years ago today" a year ago yesterday.
If Paul McCartney is to be believed, it was 20 years before that that Sgt. Pepper taught the band to play. So, a bunch of people learned to play on June 1, 1947.
I'm not sure I believe that, however. I mean, whoever heard of someone learning to play an instrument in a single day? And if Pepper did indeed possess such extraordinary musical teaching ability, why was he never promoted above Sergeant?
Besides which, Paul McCartney is a dubious source for information. After all, we are talking about a man who has denied his own death for more than 40 years. Everyone knows that Paul McCartney died in an auto accident in 1966, and that the Beatles drafted a ringer named William Campbell to take his place to keep the cash machine a-rolling. The Fab Three and Mr. Campbell then sprinkled clues about this fact on all of their subsequent releases, ostensibly because they suffered from a condition much like fictional villain the Riddler.
Conspiracies are fun. Especially when we get to assume that those conspiring are thumbing their noses at us.
Personally, I always thought that the thing at the end of "Strawberry Fields" said "I'll marry in Gaul," which I took to be a prophetic vision of John Lennon's wedding in France more than a year later.
I just heard that Bo Diddley died today. I'm not a giant blues fan or anything, but I enjoyed more than a few of his songs. If nothing else, I was always amused that his song "Bo Diddley" was often covered by other acts (including Buddy Holly, who was no slouch as a songwriter himself).
My song "The Moon Topples" has never been covered.
For Mr. Diddley, a moment of silence followed by a "buh. buh. buh. BUH-buh."
Astute readers will no doubt notice that it has been a few months since I posted. Apologies. I never intended to stop blogging entirely. I still don't. I just had nothing to say, I suppose. With respect for your intelligence, however, I will avoid any sweeping proclamations regarding the blog being "open" again or anything like that.
7 comments:
Well, as long as it's not closed, can I be the first to say that it's good to see you again Mr. Moon? And you're the boss here, but in my book not having anything to say is never a reason for not saying it. To quote John Cage (which I seem to have been doing rather a lot recently), I have nothing to say and I am saying it and that is poetry. So. And I love/d Sergeant Pepper. Before this, I loved only The Monkees, so it was very significant.
That was not written from my proper house. This is.
Blah blah blogs-creative, creation, expression, art, dedicated to a hobby or passion, or icon, world commentary, politics, having/sharing information sience, food, yada yada, but then too you have blogs, which are rather like pages from notebook keeping track of one's thoughts, ideas, grocery list, words to songs, and internal ramblings (the latter being the way I do mine.) If I had kept the short story from being long-I would have written- I agree with Signs.
I don't know, now that bang bang Maxwell silver hammer song is prancing about in my head, and it always unnerves me, making me uneasy.
Signs: My "nothing to say" argument has been assailed on many fronts. My own mother said: "that never stopped you before." Thanks for the Cage, and also for the Monkees, and it's nice to see you again as well.
Taffiny: Fear not, as "Maxwell" is off Abbey Road. This should pass.
Well look at that.
Here comes the Moon.
;o)
Scarlett & Viaggiatore
Nice, Scarlett.
And welcome back, Mr. Moon. I hope this time you'll stay awhile.
Do you subscribe to the rumors about Paul not being Paul?
Scarlett: Yup. From waning to waxing.
HinSF: Thanks for the welcome home. No, I don't subscribe to that particular theory. But then I make an effort not to believe anything most of the time.
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