Little darlin', it seems like years since it's been clear.
I'm not sure what's wrong with me at the moment; first I cry at O'Brien talking about how to crush humanity, to Winston Smith whilst he's tied to a slab and refusing to give in, in the John Hurt film version of Nineteen Eighty-Four, then I well up at the priest in Titanic on the sloping deck, and now I keep sniffling over the Beatles' Here Comes the Sun.
Gagh. I blame the long and involved discussion my Dad and I had about John Lennon, yesterday; he was always a hero of my Dad's, and Dad was devastated when he died. He still remembers waking up in 1980, hearing the news on the radio and being utterly stunned. I asked him if he'd cried, and he said he had; I have never seen my Dad cry before, so the effect it had on him must have been huge.
I'm sadly lacking in full Beatles knowledge, but I'm slowly expanding my song list, and I know pretty much all the lyrics to all their Number One hits, as there's twenty-seven of them on one album. Dad loves it that I can prance around the kitchen, drying dishes, singing along to Come Together, because it's a testament that it's lasted, and will continue to last. Can you really say that about much music in the charts today?
Nothing you can do, but you can learn how to be you, entire; it's easy.
I refuse to cry again. I'm like a dripping tap; it's terrible.
P.S. I completely and utterly adore the film Help! I saw it when I was about ten and continue to love it. It's so adorably bizarre; "They have to paint me red before they chop me. It's a different religion to ours. I think."
Gagh. I blame the long and involved discussion my Dad and I had about John Lennon, yesterday; he was always a hero of my Dad's, and Dad was devastated when he died. He still remembers waking up in 1980, hearing the news on the radio and being utterly stunned. I asked him if he'd cried, and he said he had; I have never seen my Dad cry before, so the effect it had on him must have been huge.
I'm sadly lacking in full Beatles knowledge, but I'm slowly expanding my song list, and I know pretty much all the lyrics to all their Number One hits, as there's twenty-seven of them on one album. Dad loves it that I can prance around the kitchen, drying dishes, singing along to Come Together, because it's a testament that it's lasted, and will continue to last. Can you really say that about much music in the charts today?
Nothing you can do, but you can learn how to be you, entire; it's easy.
I refuse to cry again. I'm like a dripping tap; it's terrible.
P.S. I completely and utterly adore the film Help! I saw it when I was about ten and continue to love it. It's so adorably bizarre; "They have to paint me red before they chop me. It's a different religion to ours. I think."