Flash Fiction: So this dream about Ringo…

DrumsSo last night I had this elaborate dream involving Ringo Starr. He was stuck on the side of the road in a very expensive long white car because all rich people in dreams have long white cars.  I offered him a ride because that is what you do when a Beatle needs help. We got talking and he invited me to a party, a real shindig. I said yes, of course, because this was Ringo.

So Ringo was a little tipsy in the dream, and I know he doesn’t drink in reality anymore, but in my dream he was. I was busy getting ready for the party, which explains why I wasn’t there when Ringo asked my far-too-young son what there is to drink in this house, my house.

So my son mixed a Beatle a drink. How my son knew how to climb up to the very high drawer with the liquor and then put a bit of this and that into a glass, I have no idea. I remember in the dream being shocked that Ringo asked my son to do this (he used to be on Thomas the Tank Engine, he should know better), and even more shocked that he then did it. It was so very Mad Men.

I then took a selfie of the three of us thinking the entire time this may or may not be great for my blog.

Probably not… Maybe.

Where My Head Is At

HeadRandomness from the last few days…

Do both Paul and Ringo dye their hair? They are both in their 70s so the answer is probably yes. My wife also believes Ringo dyes his beard. How does one do that?

Because of the Disney film Tarzan, my kids like to run around in their underwear. I’m still working on my counter-argument to this practice because it is kind of hilarious.

I’ve locked down the Table of Contents for my new nonfiction book Me Stuff. Started with two hundred posts (I’ve done over 520 on this site total), then cut it down to 70. Now I’m ending at 30 or so.

I think Georgia font is pretty friendly. I want a friendly font for Me Stuff, one that says, “Sit down, I have a story to tell.” Continue reading

Movie Review: Good Ol’ Freda

Good Ol' FredaI’m a Beatles nut.

It’s one of my things. Nearby me as I write this is the bootleg complete recordings of The Beatles BBC sessions (9 discs full), on the wall is a collection of rare photographs of The Beatles performing in Detroit, and then there are my instruments for Beatles Rock Band in the corner (doing all of Abbey Road is wonderful). And then there are my shelves and shelves with books on them, and the mountain of DVDs… Oh, and the boxset of their complete CDs. I, of course, have the music.

So whenever a new documentary or book on The Beatles comes out, I know all about it; definitely before some friend on Facebook or Twitter sends me a message saying “Did you know about this?”

“Yes… Yes. I did.” I always reply. Sometimes I pretend to be ignorant, but I never am.

And if one of these books or documentaries reaches a certain level of expertise it will probably join my “resource library.” I like to think of it as an honor. For example, the insightful Geoff Emerick’s book made it; the bad book by Bob Spitz (and it’s pile of errors) did not.

I’ve written on my love of The Beatles a few times on this site (like here and here). They are part of my makeup, what makes me “me.” And, I’m sure, that if a doctor was to check my pulse my beats would be perfectly in sync with the “Na’s” in Hey Jude.

Oh, and I have a Beatles tie. Did I mention The Beatles tie? Continue reading