“A hippie is supposed to be someone who becomes aware– you’re hip if you know what’s going on. But if you’re really hip, you don’t get involved with LSD and things like that. You see the potential that it has and the good that can come from it, but you also see that you don’t really need it.” ~George Harrison
I’ve never bought into the idea that you have to chemically alter yourself to see reality clearly.
I suppose everyone does what they have to do to clear the windows of perception, but using drugs to achieve it seems kind of like going after a fly with a sledgehammer: you’ll solve the problem, but there’s going to be some collateral damage.
In this excerpt from Rob Lowe’s autobiography, Stories I Only Tell My Friends ©2011, a teenage Rob Lowe finds himself alone with Francis Ford Coppola and brings up the obvious:
“Francis, I’m sure you hear this a lot, but Godfather was on in the hotel and we all watched it for the hundredth time. What an unbelievable movie.”
“You know, Rob, to me The Godfather is like that lamp,” he says, pointing. “It exists. It’s right there. People have opinions about it,” he continues mildly. “The real Godfather, for me, is the experience I had making it.”
It would be many years and many projects before I fully understood what he meant. If you are fortunate enough to be part of a hit, particularly a transcendent one, all emotional ownership is transferred to the audience. They judge it and embrace it; project their own hopes, dreams, and fears onto it; take their personal meaning from its themes, and with those investments it becomes theirs. The significance of your participation pales in comparison to the significance the project has on their imaginations. And so, you are left outside the phenomenon. Just as Paul McCartney can never experience the Beatles, Francis Ford Coppola can never experience The Godfather. It becomes a lamp.
I like this book a lot more than I expected to. I’m not a huge Rob Lowe fan, although I did enjoy him in Parks and Recreation, but it turns out you don’t have to be to enjoy his anecdotes and stories.
Ringo Starr is on Twitter HERE.
“He said it was written about Julian, my child. He knew I was splitting with Cyn and leaving Julian. He was driving over to say hi to Julian. He’d been like an uncle to him. You know, Paul was always good with kids. And so he came up with Hey Jude. But I always heard it as a song to me. If you think about it… Yoko’s just come into the picture. He’s saying, ‘Hey, Jude – hey, John.’ I know I’m sounding like one of those fans who reads things into it, but you can hear it as a song to me. The words ‘go out and get her’ – subconsciously he was saying, ‘Go ahead, leave me.’ On a conscious level, he didn’t want me to go ahead. The angel in him was saying, ‘Bless you.’ The devil in him didn’t like it at all because he didn’t want to lose his partner.” ~John Lennon about Hey Jude (via RoofRabbit)
George Harrison, Jeff Lynn, Ringo Starr, Eric Clapton, Phil Collins, Ray Cooper, Elton John…
The sad part is how many faces you saw reunite to perform this song at the Concert for George.
What I love about Ringo is that he doesn’t hide what he wants to say beneath layers of cryptic metaphors. It’s a certain courage you don’t find often.
Anyway, this is a song about death that always lifts my spirits.
Full lyrics HERE.