I realize now that the proper way to do Beatles Week is to live it (which I am doing by watching videos, accumulating thousands of pieces of pictures, listening to music, reading lists, and thinking about stories), and then, when done, only when done, assemble it into an articulate, eight day thesis of penetrating, Richard Avedon inspired photographs, and rich stories, that bring some mad sense of their dazzling run of artistic form together into a singular work of Internet inspiration.
But what has that ever got me?
I have never in my life been rewarded for professionalism.
My heart alone has ever rewarded me.
This is the one thing that the Beatles, dead or alive, can never understand.
I have that one precious thing. So let's let it fly again.
Thank you for coming.
We can work it out.
I should have known better... but, let's just stumble through Beatles Week together helter skelter and see what happens.
I have the pieces of hundreds, possibly thousands of new Beatle pictures. I am only halfway through watching Lindsay Ellis's new, frankly brilliant, two hour video essay on the end of the Beatles and, well, the ballad of John and Yoko. I am full of fractured thoughts and old stories about standing on the front lawn of my parents' house in Woodland Hills, California, age 13, positively thrumming with the revelation of "Nowhere Man", like I'd seen the terrifying face of God, and I am not prepared to assemble any of it together. But I want to tell you...
So here I am at one of my own, personal deadlines, gathering the first coherent pieces altogether now before they are ready.
And so far, I like these: