the world is at your command

Here's a look at the John Lennon biopic Nowhere Boy, which is about his early years in Liverpool, his aunt Mimi, mum Julia, and the band that would eventually become The Beatles. Usually I hate these kinds of movies (Backbeat, anyone?) but this one looks pretty decent. From the looks of the trailer, its pretty spot on (except for the chick who I assume is supposed to be Cynthia - all we see is 'John' nuzzling her neck and she's spazzing out about it. Our Hoylake gal would never do that). Anyone else excited for this movie?

those freaks was right when they said you was dead

Okay this freaked me the fuck out when I saw this. Look at Paul's feet in the first photo, and compare to the second photo. Haha all you Faul theorists! Our boy was wearing shoes for the first part of the photo shoot, but then obviously just wanted to walk barefoot on hot asphalt instead. Duh.

'cause you're working, building a mystery, holding on and holding it in

So my friend emailed this old WWII-era poster to me earlier today, with the subject line: "Do you think Hitler is the little spoon or the big spoon?" I honestly don't know what this poster is trying to prove. I'm familiar with this poster of pretty much the same theme, but what is this trying to get across to middle America? I can just imagine someone with a very authoritative James Earl Jones-type voice, announcing to 1940s women across America, "Ladies, instead of sleeping alone in your bed while your husband is across seas fighting Nazis, go out to your nearest bar/church/grocery store and invite the first fella you see to nude up with you for the evening. It's what your husband - and more importantly, it's what your country - wants of you."

Please, if anyone can enlighten me as to what this poster is about, I will owe you ten thousand scooby snacks.

there's a little bird that somebody sends down to the earth to live on the wind

When I was younger more naïve, I used to believe I was Ruby Tuesday from the eponymous Rolling Stones song. I don’t know why – after all, I was a teenager from the 21^st century city, not a swingin’ sixties groupie who got busy one time with Keith Richards (no matter how much I wish my life was otherwise). Well, I guess if Anne Hathaway can believe that Blackbird is about her, than I can be forgiven for thinking Ruby Tuesday was about me.

She would never say where she came from

Yesterday don’t matter if its gone

That’s the only bit of the song I don’t really agree with. But then again, its so freaking gorgeous that I love it anyways. I understand the whole “you can never go home again” thing, so not talking about your past is not only the best solution, but the only solution. The lyric that follows, "yesterday don't matter if its gone," is the one that really has kept me from being Ruby Tuesday. I can't embrace it into my life, I can't make myself believe it. If I agreed with the sentiment that whatever happened in the past doesn't really count for anything, I wouldn't have a blog which celebrates decades past, now would I? Not only does the past matter to me, its everything to me. I am not a full-functioning 21st century gal - I need the past to give me a little help in my boring hum-drum life. Vintage Vogues and Sixties memoirs are my kind of heroin - daily doses of the retro help me to get by. I need my fix.

And now for your fix, here are some lovely ladies from the sixties:

'tis then when the hurdy gurdy man comes singing songs of love

I love these trippy-dippy, hurdy-gurdy photos of Donovan. The girl on the right is Jenny Boyd (Pattie's sister), who Donovan was in love with for a time in the late 1960s. He wrote "Jennifer Juniper" for her, and she was one of the main reasons why he decided to join the Beatles in Rishikesh in 1968.

Beatlesology, Part One

There are a lot of people who equate listening to The Beatles as some sort of religious experience. I am one of those people. I am the nerdy girl of my group of friends who can talk for hours about the significance of any of their songs, from "It Won't Be Long" to "The Inner Light." I owe those four lads from Liddypool - they helped me through my darkest days and kept me company during my happiest highs. I owe them a lot. In a way I worship them – in the complete textbook definition of the word, in that I pay adoring reverence and honor to them. I am a huge “fan” of theirs – the reverence extends far beyond owning/knowing the tune of every song in their catalogue, I love and appreciate those men not just as musicians but as men themselves.

For me – a convent girl, of sorts – I have been well-hearsed in Catholic faith since I was very young. My relationship with The Beatles is very much similar to that. Enlightenment (a word I'll use if I'm going to get really hokey about this now) comes to each of us through many different mediums – and maybe the Beatles are my medium. I don’t know. And maybe the Beatles are bigger than Jesus. I don’t know. But it seems to me that if John, Paul, George, and Ringo can help get you through the night, then it’s alright.

We all have something different – whether it’s Transcendental Meditation, Primal Scream Therapy, or the Fab Four – we all need something to get us through the day, otherwise what’s keeping us keepin’ on? This may seem like blasphemy to any of those actively in an organized religion – and believe me, I could never tell any of this to anyone in my family because they’d probably send someone to exorcise the shit out of me – but I’m really not intending it to be like that. I get that I’m really weird for feeling this way. I would never subscribe to a Beatles religion in hopes of achieving my “Inner Beatle” or anything like that, because I don’t believe that that’s what these guys and their music is about. But still, what I personally have with this band is pretty fucking special. They are my religion. Jimi Hendrix once said that “music is my religion.” Well Jimi (because I possess the ability to speak directly to celebrities beyond the grave, lucky me) that is true, because it’s not like I only listen to the Beatles. But I do believe that there is something more there with them. I have my rituals, my experiences with one band in particular that I’ve never had with another band before. Like the Holy Spirit visiting Mary at night, I often have dreams about the Beatles (unfortunately the spirit of George Harrison never pops into my bedroom to tell me I am carrying his child).

So against John Lennon’s warning, I do believe in Beatles. And I'm trying to believe in me.

so basically yoko and i are best friends now...

Check out the article recently posted on Yoko Ono's website, entitled "25 Things Even My Best Friends Didn't Know Until Now." Even though she's got a lot of slack over the years, but I think she's become one of the most ardent peace-lovers out there, and reading this article just puts a smile on my face. She talks a lot about her feet and her shoes - but really what woman doesn't? - and calls out all of her imperfections and insecurities. One of my favorites: "My head was unusually large for my small bod. So John called me a "Martian" ... I look to the sky and feel like my home is somewhere far away - so I thought I might really be a Martian - a result of cross-breeding thousands of years ago." Another one I thought was nice was "When I daydream, I go all the way to the end of the Earth, and come back. It's a nice exercise." It's nice to get glimpses of the real Yoko - the one apart from the edited histories created by the press and the ones created by herself. I for one love following her Twitter account - it's full of fun Yoko-isms, like "Give up meat one day and then two days maybe. It's a very, very intelligent idea" and "We know that our thinking and our actions, no matter how small they are, affect the whole world."

Click on these links and fall in love!