Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Revolver

 

One. Two. Three. Four. One. Two. Three Four!

Stepping out from the sliding doors at work I pressed play, descending the steps two at a time. As the music kicked in with its familiar beat I felt like skipping all the way to the station. Hamish and I had just talked about this song, Taxman, earlier as we discussed the fact that everything is taxed. Complaining about taxes? I think I truly am getting old. Death and taxes, right?

Forgetting that I was usually a self conscious guy (am I the only person as self conscious as I am?) I sang out the harmonies and played air drums, air guitar and air bass (I’m pretty good at air bass). I was almost oblivious to the few people who were still walking around the street light-lit streets. Almost.

I bought a slice of Veggie Pizza and walked toward the station. There was something special about my mood. I attributed it to having finished work and listening to the Beatles. Eleanor Rigby caressed my ears with her tale of woe. I heard the kebab shop guy laugh in the background as he shared a joke with his co-worker. At the taxi stand the drivers hovered around the third car from the front, chatting about stories from the day. At the entrance to Hornsby station a mulleted man in singlet and shorts (no footwear) hugged his faux-blonde girlfriend. She had big tits and enough cleavage to make sure everyone knew about it. As I entered the station I turned to look at all the lonely people and caught my reflection in a shop window. Poetic, right? It was gonna take more than that to bring me down, though. I winked at my reflection and continued on, boarding the train just as Father McKenzie dusted off his hands.

Please don’t spoil my day, I’m miles away

Was it three years ago, not long after discovering the Beatles that I thought to myself that this album couldn’t possibly get any better? And yet it felt as though this listen was the best ever. George realigned my ego with his pop-Indian mysticism, speaking directly to my soul. Then Paul serenaded me Here, There and Everywhere. Could it get any better then right now, with this simple selfless happiness? Yes! Paul had filled me with delusions of romance and I knew exactly what to do. When a blackjack player is on a hot streak he has to ride it out for all its worth. I got my phone and quickly digitalised my feelings.

"hey, I’m on a train listening to the Beatles, wondering if anything could make the smile on my face bigger…you free Wednesday? :)"

It was Ringo’s turn now. He filled me with a strange self assurance as he sang about colourful underwater abodes. This rare confidence shouldn’t be wasted. Insert number. Contacts. Kate. Send…Send!...send?- Just send it you pussy. But what if- SEND! Sending. Sent.



Shit. No, it’s cool. Shit, I don’t know, man. It was a pretty gay message. Well it’s sent now. Just wait. She’ll write back with a ‘Yes’ and I’ll write back with a bigger smiley emoticon, the one with the capital ‘d’ for a mouth – hey, my smile just got bigger! – she’ll be impressed by the clever foresight, I mean who makes me smile more than the Beatles? Then I cruise to Lee’s and find the Sea of Green.

By now I was off the train. John was making me feel like I’ve never been born. The energy from the guitar surged through me. I ran up the escalator until I got stuck behind some old dude. As I waited I jammed out again on air something. The old guy turned around and caught me emulating one of Ringo’s fills.

She saaaaaaiiiiiid, She saaaaaiiiiiid!!!

-well actually she said nothing so far…but there was still time.

Luke called. “Good Day Sunshine!” I quipped, laughing to myself. Nobody is going to understand every Beatles reference I make.

“Hey man, you need a lift to Lee’s?”

“Nah, I’m still in Hornsby. Probably be a while yet.” A little white lie. I wanted to finish this album. I hadn’t heard every sound there is and I was waiting for this bird to sing. I had too much energy anyway and decided to leg it to Lee’s. It was about a 30 minute walk. I ran.

When your prize possessions, start to weigh you down
Look in my direction, I’ll be round. I’ll be round

I couldn’t think of a way to segue that line into my little story, but it made me happy nonetheless. The run started well. I was chilled and enjoying the fresh air. Paul had come back on, just as I hit a long hill to climb. His voice was as soothing as ever but this time it was a break up song. I felt pain in my legs and chest. I felt Paul’s pain. Damn you Jane Asher, how could you no longer need me?- Him? Damn it! Why did I gamble all my happiness like that. The house always wins.

Who is the 'house' in this analogy? I dunno, Buddha? Get off my case I’m trying to self implode here. Man this is sad. I thought you left your self conscious reflection in the window at Hornsby. You can’t handle a 20 minute message hiatus? That’s a good point, but why do I still feel this stinging pain in my heart. Wait, that’s not my heart. It’s my gut. Arrgh! Stitch! Somebody call Doctor Robert!

As I slowed to a light jog, the stitch began to fade.

I want to tell you, my head is filled with things to say

George again pierced my consciousness with his lyrics. The games did begin to drag me down. But you know what? I’ve got tiiiiime! Here I was thinking I got to get her into my life. But what’s the rush? I got John & Paul & Ringo & George til then. I got to Lee’s street, short of breath. I paused and let the light breeze cool me as it passed by the slowly cascading sweat.

Duum Duum tsh, duumduum tsh-tsh

The hypnotic drumming stole my focus. I felt like I was transported to a mountain range in some mystical, far off land. I imagined John singing from the top of the highest peak, the words reverberating through my soul. It all started to make sense again.

Turn off your mind, relax
and float down stream
It is not dying
It is not dying

Lay down all thought
Surrender to the void
It is shining
It is shining

That you may see
The meaning of within
It is being
It is being

That love is all
And love is everyone
It is knowing
It is knowing

That ignorance and hate
May mourn the dead
It is believing
It is believing

But listen to the
color of your dreams
It is not living
It is not living

Or play the game
existence to the end
Of the beginning
Of the beginning
Of the beginning
Of the beginning
Of the beginning
Of the beginning

I got to Lee’s house refreshed and revitalised for the whole experience. I looked at my phone and received a message that instant!

Luke: Where are you?

I smiled and knocked on the door. Tomorrow Never Knows…

- Eden (you can probably guess what I was listening to...)

5 comments:

  1. How are you this good? Truly awesome write man.

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  2. Ew girl, ew!

    I'm pressing play on this album ... Now!

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  3. Dude, that was amazing. Poetic even. Yet again, that could be because I was reading it with a tranquil American accent whilst Jason accompanied it with soft jazz guitar. Who am I kidding, it was the words that created the art.

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  4. Thanks dudes. el anonymous loco you should tell Tones to read it. I'm sure would appreciate all the allusions to Revolver

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  5. I like the 'read more' button - you're becoming more and more of a blog nerd each post... I'm jealous.

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