#detective Lennon

[pier-carlo-universe]

Gioia mortale di Mark Edwards e Louise Voss, : Intrighi, ossessioni e pericoli dietro il mondo dello spettacolo. Recensione di Alessandria today

Un thriller coinvolgente sul nuovo caso del Detective Lennon

Un thriller coinvolgente sul nuovo caso del Detective Lennon Il libro “Gioia mortale”, secondo volume della serie dedicata all’ispettore Patrick Lennon, è un thriller avvincente che fonde la tensione tipica delle indagini criminali con un’esplorazione profonda delle ossessioni e dei pericoli nascosti dietro la fama e i social network. Scritto dai maestri del genere Mark Edwards e Louise Voss, il…

[mythserene]

Mark Lewisohn: Drug Buddy (Part Deux) - Mark explains heroin

The longer clip—which is very long and so does have some cuts of his many digressions—is so stupid in so many ways that I cannot address them now because I have to finish my real work. But I am still going to post it below the short clip. The main point is Lewisohn's certainty that John and Yoko were never addicted to heroin. And in his analysis, besides being very impressed with John's experimental ways—which I very much relate to—he opines that John possibly didn't know what withdrawal really was like when he wrote Cold Turkey and also says that John and Yoko once got off heroin by having a driver drive them across America in the back of a car and at the end “they were over it. Which must've been a trip. And a half.”

Like, literally read one single thing on heroin withdrawal, fan boi. A universal side-effect of opiate withdrawal is the alimentary canal waking up and beginning to work again, and it's messy. Always. You don't want to be in the back of a car with no bathroom or clean underwear. It's also incredibly uncomfortable, even including on the eyes, and so I hope they had some curtains on those car windows. The adjustment from the opiate-induced pinhole pupils back to full, shocked, reactivity can feel like getting your pupils dilated at the optometrist. Either way, withdrawal is the opposite of sexy and Lewisohn's breathy awe makes me want to vomit.

In this little clip he talks about the Two Junkies interview and how he has figured the Get Back heroin situation out by the chronology of Spanish Tony (Sanchez) being on set 13 January, then John throwing up in the Canadian Broadcasting Corp's interview on 14 January, and then, says Lewisohn, from John being okay after he throws up. From these clues Lewisohn has deduced that John and Yoko got some from Spanish Tony the day before, did it that night after work, had a hangover the next day, and then were fine. So he has made the jaw-droppingly idiotic (and even more confident) deduction that that's how it went and that there's no evidence that they ever did it again that month.

🫠

LEWISOHN: I think it's very easy to assume that John was strung out on heroin the whole time [of the Get Back sessions]. It's very evident that he was not. He's far too creative and lucid to- to-- doesn't exhibit any signs whatsoever of being strung out. In fact, in Twickenham—I think it's the 14th of January, it's the last day at Twickenham—John begins the day with an interview set up the day before with Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, and John is kind of green in this interview. And he's- he's clearly unwell, and in fact he goes off to throw up. And we know that he's thrown up because he comes back and says, ‘I've just thrown up.’ There's no secrets with these guys. They told us everything. Um, and then he's a bit more together. His speech becomes a little bit unglued, and he just becomes a little bit more together. ... And if you look, the day before there's a picture of ... some guys around the Beatles, and one of them is Tony Sanchez. Now, he was- he was heroin supplier to the Stones. And he turns up on the 13th of January, and that night they do heroin, and the next morning John is green, and then he throws up. So there's a clear chronology there. That they've got it from Tony, and they've taken it, and he's not well. And- but there's no indication that he takes it again.

I threw together a few clips of John (and Yoko) from the Two Junkies interview. John before throwing up, John saying he's sick and the cut afterwards—that definitely does not show him saying that he's thrown up—and of him still being toasted afterwards. But if Mark Lewisohn had watched the video—actually watched it with a desire to understand it instead of projecting onto it—let alone had read anything or asked one single expert—he would be unable to talk such nonsense. Not that he's ever challenged on any of it.

Here's the longer clip where Lewisohn sprints into an embrace of full-on, mind-blowing, cringeworthily embarrassing ignorance. “And in fact I'm not sure how many times he took it...”

How does he have the confidence to say such idiotic things without ever even bothering to do a Google search? I would fear the exposure of looking like such a fool. But I know the answer. Because people listen to him and take his words on faith.

[jigencaps]

[shippingmclennon]

I remember seeing this once a while back and it made me shit my pants 💀

[pie-of-flames]

Let me ask you this, ma'am. All the lonely people, where do they all come from? Where do they all belong?

Hey, Bungalow Bill. I know you did it. What did you kill?

[justlikestartingover]

.

[thefoolandthewalrus]

Why do they look like they're about to star in a 1960s sherlock holmes movie

[nikidontsurf]

GEORGE HARRISON and PATTIE BOYD leave Kinfauns to go to the Walton and Esher Magistrates Court, March 18, 1969.

  She was at Kinfauns, their bungalow home in Esher, Surrey, playing genial hostess to a group of visitors from Scotland Yard’s drug squad. She recalled the events in her memoir Wonderful Tonight: ‘Suddenly I heard a lot of cars on the gravel in the drive – far too many for it to be just George. My first thought was that maybe Paul and Linda wanted to party after the wedding. Then the bell rang. I opened the door to find a policewoman and a dog standing outside. At that moment the back-doorbell rang and I thought, Oh, my God, this is so scary! I’m surrounded by police.

The man in charge introduced himself as Detective Sergeant Pilcher, from Scotland Yard, and handed me a piece of paper. I knew why he was there: he thought we had drugs, and he said he was going to search the house. In they came, about eight policemen through the front, another five or six through the back and there were more in the greenhouse. The policewoman said she would follow me while the others searched and didn’t let me out of her sight. I said, ‘Why are you doing this? We don’t have any drugs. I’m going to phone my husband.’ I rang George at Apple. ‘George, it’s your worst nightmare. Come home.’

The officers clearly thought the Harrisons would be at Paul’s wedding. The timing was not a coincidence. (...) Pilcher had already busted Mick Jagger, Brian Jones and Donovan, as well as Lennon and Yoko the previous year. National treasures or not, The Beatles were no longer protected from the law. - ‘And in the End: The Last Days of The Beatles’ Ken McNab

  I was with George in the office when that call came through. It was the end of a long day at Apple. Pattie rang and said, ‘They’re here – the law is here,’ and we knew what to do by then. We phoned Release’s lawyer, Martin Polden. We had a routine: he came round to Apple, and we all went down by limousine to Esher, where the police were well ensconced by then – and I stood bail for George and Pattie. They went off to the police station. We were all extremely indignant because it was the day of Paul’s wedding, a poor way to celebrate it. The police can be so nice.

George was calm about it. George is always calm – he sometimes gets a grump, but he’s always calm – and he was extremely calm that night, and very, very indignant. He went into the house and looked around at all these men and one woman, and said something like. ‘Birds have nests and animals have holes, but man has nowhere to lay his head.’ – ‘Oh, really, sir? Sorry to tell you we have to…’ and then into the police routine.

That’s how calm and how cross he was, because, as he said, he kept his dope in the box where dope went, and his joss sticks went in the joss stick box. He was a man who ran an orderly late-Sixties household, with beautiful things and some nice stuff to smoke.

 In my opinion he didn’t have to be busted because he was doing nobody any harm. I still believe what they did was an intrusion into personal life. - Derek Taylor in ‘The Beatles Anthology’

[emwheezie]

They did a band photoshoot where Enzo framed Lennon for Theo's murder and Detective/Lawyer/Emo Tony has to solve the crime.

Leaving you all with this sketch/work in progress! HOPEFULLY....I finish this. I have a bad habit of doing sketches, coloring them, then calling quits.

IDK why Tony and Lennon have that eye makeup tbh. At first I was trying to draw a generic super duper emo band pic of them...then it turned into this crime themed thing. And I tried erasing it, but their faces looked so plain without it.

[gardenwalrus]

Thelma Pickles, John Lennon’s first girlfriend at Liverpool College of Art, on her relationship with John 

My first impression of John was that he was a smartarse. I was 16; a friend introduced us at Liverpool College of Art when we were waiting to register. There was a radio host at the time called Wilfred Pickles whose catchphrase was "Give them the money, Mabel!". When John heard my name he asked "Any relation to Wilfred?", which I was sick of hearing. Then a girl breezed in and said, "Hey John, I hear your mother's dead", and I felt absolutely sick. He didn't flinch, he simply replied, "Yeah". "It was a policeman that knocked her down, wasn't it?" Again he didn't react, he just said, "That's right, yeah." His mother had been killed two months earlier. I was stunned by his detachment, and impressed that he was brave enough to not break down or show any emotion. Of course, it was all a front. When we were alone together he was really soft, thoughtful and generous-spirited. Clearly his mother's death had disturbed him. We both felt that we'd been dealt a raw deal in our family circumstances, which drew us together. During the first week of college we had a pivotal conversation. I'd assumed that he lived with his dad but he told me, "My dad pissed off when I was a baby." Mine had too – I wasn't a baby, I was 10. It had such a profound effect on me that I would never discuss it with anyone. Nowadays one-parent families are common but then it was something shameful. After that it was like we were two against the world.

I went to his house soon after. It seemed really posh to me, brought up in a council house. We were alone, he showed me round and we had a bit of a kiss and a cuddle in his bedroom. Paul and George came round and we all had beans on toast, then they played their guitars in the kitchen. I had to leave early because Mimi wouldn't allow girls in the house. She was very strict. She wouldn't let him wear drainpipe trousers so he used to put other trousers over the top and remove them after he left the house. We used to take afternoons off to go to a picture-house called the Palais de Luxe where he liked to see horror films. I remember we went to see Elvis in Jailhouse Rock at the Odeon. He didn't take his glasses. We were holding hands and he kept yanking my hand saying, "What's happening now Thel?" John was enormous fun to be with, always witty, even if it was a cruel wit. Any minor frailty in somebody he'd detect with a laser-like homing device. We all thought it was hilarious but it wasn't funny to the recipients. Apart from the first instance, where he mocked my name, I never experienced it until I ended our relationship. We were close until around Easter of the following year, 1959. At an art school dance he took me to a darkened classroom. We went thinking we'd have it to ourselves but it was evident from the din that we weren't alone. I wasn't going to have an intimate soirée with other people present. I refused to stay, and he yanked me back and whacked me one. He had aggressive traits, mainly verbal, but never in private had he ever been aggressive - quite the opposite. Once he'd hit me that was it for me, I wouldn't speak to him. That one violent incident put paid to any closeness we had. I took care to not bump into him for a while. I didn't miss drinking at Ye Cracke with him but I missed the closeness we had. Still, we were friendly enough by the end of the next term. Because he did no work, he was on the brink of failure, so I loaned him some of my work, which I never got back. I've never wondered what might have been. It sounds disingenuous, but I wouldn't like to have been married to John – that would be quite a gargantuan task! He would've been 70 next year and I just cannot imagine a 70-year-old John Lennon. I'd be fearful that the fire would've gone out.

- Interview within Imogen Carter, ‘John Lennon, the boy we knew’, The Guardian (Dec 2009)

Thelma also briefly dated Paul McCartney and later married Mike McCartney’s bandmate, Roger McGough, in 1970.

Thelma also gives more detail of her relationship with John in Ray Coleman's 1984 John Lennon biography. Just to note, she mentions towards the end of the section that their romantic relationship just petered out, and John was never physically violent with her - it's likely the case that by the 2009 Guardian interview above, she would've felt more free to speak about John hitting her as the reason for the relationship's end, rather than this being two contrasting stories.

A year younger than John, Thelma was to figure in one of his most torrid teenage affairs before he met Cynthia.  Their friendship blossomed in a spectacular conversation one day as they walked after college to the bus terminus in Castle Street. In no hurry to get home, they sat on the steps of the Queen Victoria monument for a talk.  ‘I knew his mother had been killed and asked if his father was alive,’ says Thelma. ‘Again, he said in this very impassive and objective way: “No, he pissed off and left me when I was a baby.” I suddenly felt very nervous and strange. My father had left me when I was ten. Because of that, I had a huge chip on my shoulder. In those days, you never admitted you came from a broken home. You could never discuss it with anybody and people like me, who kept the shame of it secret, developed terrific anxieties. It was such a relief to me when he said that. For the first time, I could say to someone: “Well, so did mine.”’ 

At first Thelma registered that he didn’t care about his fatherless childhood. ‘As I got to know him, he obviously cared. But what I realised quickly was that he and I had an aggression towards life that stemmed entirely from our messy home lives.’ Their friendship developed, not as a cosy love match but as teenage kids with chips on their shoulders. ‘It was more a case of him carrying my things to the bus stop for me, or going to the cinema together, before we became physically involved.’ John, when she knew him, would have laughed at people who were seen arm in arm.’ It wasn't love's young dream. We had a strong affinity through our backgrounds and we resented the strictures that were placed upon us. We were fighting against the rules of the day. If you were a girl of sixteen like me, you had to wear your beret to school, be home at a certain time, and you couldn't wear make-up. A bloke like John would have trouble wearing skin-tight trousers and generally pleasing himself, especially with his strict aunt. We were always being told what we couldn’t do. He and I had a rebellious streak, so it was awful. We couldn't wait to grow up and tell everyone to get lost. Mimi hated his tight trousers and my mother hated my black stockings. It was a horrible time to be young!’ Lennon's language was ripe and fruity for the 1950s, and so was his wounding tongue. In Ye Cracke, one night after college, John rounded on Thelma in front of several students, and was crushingly rude to her. She forgets exactly what he said, but remembers her blistering attack on him: ‘Don't blame me,’ said Thelma, ‘just because your mother's dead.’ It was something of a turning point. John went quiet, but now he had respect for the girl who would return his own viciousness with a sentence that was equally offensive. ‘Most people stopped short,' says Thelma. ‘They were probably frightened of him, and on occasions there were certainly fights. But with me, he met someone with almost the same background and edge. We got on well, but I wasn't taking any of his verbal cruelty.’

When they were together, though, the affinity was special, with a particular emphasis on sick humour. Thelma says categorically that John and she laughed at afflicted or elderly people ‘as something to mock, a joke’. It was not anything deeply psychological like fear of them, or sympathy, she says. ‘Not to be charitable to ourselves, we both actually disliked these people rather than sympathised,’ says Thelma. ‘Maybe it was related to being artistic and liking things to be aesthetic all the time. But it just wasn't sympathy. I really admired his directness, his ability to verbalise all the things I felt amusing.’ He developed an instinctive ability to mock the weak, for whom he had no patience.  He developed an instinctive ability to mock the weak, for whom he had no patience. In the early 1950s, Britain had National Service conscription for men aged eighteen and over who were medically fit. John seized on this as his way of ridiculing many people who were physically afflicted. ‘Ah, you're just trying to get out of the army,’ he jeered at men in wheelchairs being guided down Liverpool's fashionable Bold Street, or ‘How did you lose your legs? Chasing the wife?’ He ran up behind frail old women and made them jump with fright, screaming 'Boo' into their ears. ‘Anyone limping, or crippled or hunchbacked, or deformed in any way, John laughed and ran up to them to make horrible faces. I laughed with him while feeling awful about it,’ says Thelma. ‘If a doddery old person had nearly fallen over because John had screamed at her, we'd be laughing. We knew it shouldn't be done. I was a good audience, but he didn't do it just for my benefit.’ When a gang of art college students went to the cinema, John would shout out, to their horror, ‘Bring on the dancing cripples.’ says Thelma. ‘Perhaps we just hadn’t grown out of it. He would pull the most grotesque faces and try to imitate his victims.’ 

Often, when he was with her, he would pass Thelma his latest drawings of grotesquely afflicted children with misshapen limbs. The satirical Daily Howl that he had ghoulishly passed around at Quarry Bank School was taken several stages beyond the gentle, prodding humour he doled out against his former school teachers. ‘He was merciless,’ says Thelma Pickles. ‘He had no remorse or sadness for these people. He just thought it was funny.’ He told her he felt bitter about people who had an easy life. ‘I found him magnetic,’ says Thelma, ‘because he mirrored so much of what was inside me, but I was never bold enough to voice.’  Thel, as John called her, became well aware of John's short-sightedness on their regular trips to the cinema. They would ‘sag off’ college in the afternoons to go to the Odeon in London Road or the Palais de Luxe, to see films like Elvis Presley in Jailhouse Rock and King Creole. ‘He’d never pay,’ says Thelma. ‘He never had any money.’ Whether he had his horn-rimmed spectacles with him or not, John would not wear them in the cinema. He told her he didn’t like them for the same reason that he hated deformity in people: wearing specs was a sign of weakness. Just as he did not want to see crutches or wheelchairs without laughing, John wouldn't want to be laughed at. So he very rarely wore his specs, even though the black horn-rimmed style was a copy of his beloved Buddy Holly.  ‘So in the cinema we sat near the front and it would be: “What’s happening now, Thel?” “Who’s that, Thel?” He couldn’t follow the film but he wouldn’t put his specs on, even if he had them.’

[...] It was not a big step from cinema visits and mutual mocking of people for John and Thelma to go beyond the drinking sessions in Ye Cracke. ‘It wasn't love’s young dream, but I had no other boyfriends while I was going out with John and as far as I knew he was seeing nobody except me.’  On the nights that John's Aunt Mimi was due to go out for the evening to play bridge, Thelma and John met on a seat in a brick-built shelter on the golf course opposite the house in Menlove Avenue. When the coast was clear and they saw Mimi leaving, they would go into the house. ‘He certainly didn’t have a romantic attitude to sex,’ says Thelma. ‘He used to say that sex was equivalent to a five-mile run, which I’d never heard before. He had a very disparaging attitude to girls who wanted to be involved with him but wouldn’t have sex with him. ‘“They’re edge-of-the-bed virgins,” he said.  ‘I said: “What does that mean?” ‘He said: “They get you to the edge of the bed and they’ll not complete the act.” ‘He hated that. So if you weren’t going to go to bed with him, you had to make damned sure you weren’t going to go to the edge of the bed either. If you did, he’d get very angry. ‘If you were prepared to go to his bedroom, which was above the front porch, and start embarking on necking and holding hands, and you weren’t prepared to sleep with him, then he didn’t want to know you. You didn’t do it. It wasn’t worth losing his friendship. So if you said, “No”, then that was OK. He’d then play his guitar or an Everly Brothers record. Or we’d got to the pictures. He would try to persuade you to sleep with him, though.  ‘He was no different from any young bloke except that if you led him on and gave the impression you would embark on any kind of sexual activity and then didn’t, he'd be very abusive. It was entirely lust. 

[...] Thelma was John’s girlfriend for six months. ‘It just petered out,’ she says. ‘I certainly didn’t end it. He didn’t either. We still stayed part of the same crowd of students. When we were no longer close, he was more vicious to me in company than before. I was equally offensive back. That way you got John’s respect. Her memory of her former boyfriend is of a teenager ‘very warm and thoughtful inside. Part of him was gentle and caring. He was softer and gentler when we were alone than when we were in a crowd. He was never physically violent with me - just verbally aggressive, and he knew how to hurt. There was a fight with him involved once, in the canteen, but he’d been drinking. He wasn’t one to pick a fight. He often enraged someone with his tongue and he’d been on the edge of it, but he loathed physical violence really. He’d be scared. John avoided real trouble.’

- Within Ray Coleman, John Winston Lennon: 1940-66 vol.1 (1984)

[idontwanttospoiltheparty]

ok I need you to discuss this John is My Son thing because like I also feel that Sometimes I Felt Like His Priest is also really underdischssed!

okay here we go!!!

The quote you're referring to is from the Foreword of The Lyrics. I grabbed some more of it because it's all quite interesting to me.

This was about the same time that I met John Lennon, and it’s pretty clear now that we were a huge influence on each other. Readers might detect duelling emotions in my recollections of John; that’s because my relationship with him was very mixed. Sometimes it was filled with great love and admiration, but other times not, especially around the time The Beatles were breaking up. In the beginning, though, the relationship was a young Liverpool guy looking up to another guy a year and a half older. It was hard not to admire John’s wit and wisdom. But as I came to see him as a person and a human being, there were, of course, arguments, though never anything violent. There’s even a movie out there in which John’s character punches my character, but the truth is that he never punched me. As with many friendships, there were disputes and there were arguments, but not many. Sometimes, though, I certainly thought John was being a complete idiot. Even though I was younger, I would try to explain to him why he was being stupid and why something he’d done was so unlike him. I remember him saying things to me like, ‘You know, Paul, I worry about how people are gonna remember me when I die.’ Thoughts like that shocked me, and I’d reply, ‘Hold on; just hold it right there. People are going to think you were great, and you’ve already done enough work to demonstrate that.’ I often felt like I was his priest and would have to say, ‘My son, you’re great. Just don’t worry about that.’

It's like… there's so much going on here, you know? John is almost paradoxical to Paul: the source of one of the biggest hurts of his life and also one of his great bringers of joy; he's forever petrified as a teenager in Paul's mind and also on some level remains his fairground hero whose shadow Paul cannot escape; a traitor and yet don't you dare depict him being violent towards me; wise and simultaneously stupid.

At its root, I think many of these contradictions exist because Paul is on some level aware that a lot of the pain John dealt him was at least in part due to something John could not help (i.e. mental illness). He can't bring himself to blame John entirely, in a similar way a lot of us fans wrestle with John's behaviour that we know came from a place of great anguish. This has contributed to Paul infantilizing the memory of John; he has an instinct to look after John, and it's exacerbated by the fact that he has aged whilst his conception of John has not (you can see this in the way Paul constantly circles back to the early days of their friendship), which is in great contrast to Paul's memory of, say, Brian:

"I find that one of the interesting aspects of ageing: Brian Epstein never got beyond thirty-two, but I think of him as an older guy even though I’m already twenty years older than he ever got to be." – Many Years From Now.

But there's another element to this… A lot of people on here speculate about why Paul "can't get over John". My answer:

1) John's death was uniquely traumatic to John's loved ones in a way we tend to gloss over.

2) We are not letting Paul get over it! Paul has been asked about John in interview after interview for four decades and his image directly suffered due to the lionization of John post-1980 as well as the way he (Paul) was judged for not grieving correctly. Perhaps he's started bringing John up a lot in interviews in part because he feels he has to, lest he be deemed callous and cold again. (and perhaps he is seeking to nip the Lennon Question in the bud before the questions become, ahem, horribly insensitive) That's not to say Paul isn't weird about John – I think he is! But I think the way he's been made to both carry John's legacy and accept criticism used to build John up and bury his own unresolved anger at John and grieve over a senseless murder publicly and defend John now that his image is being torn down… it accounts for a huge chunk of this weirdness, IMO. Again, I want to reiterate: I think these are generally Paul's genuine feelings and thoughts (and I certainly don't want to imply that all of this only started post-1980... but perhaps there's a reason Paul seemed more measured throughout the '70s) but I think it's naive to act like society didn't help shape the way Paul talks about John and sees him. When you live as publicly as he does and your childhood friendship is one of the most talked about relationships in music history, you are bound to be affected by the general reception.

I also think Paul is often doing reputation damage control. It is very important to him that he and John are remembered first and foremost as friends (hence the offense he takes in the depiction of John punching him in Nowhere Boy) and it seems like, since at least Goldman, he's been trying to emphasize John's softer, more lovable traits. I think this, mixed with the infantilization mentioned above, is where you get stuff like the clip of Paul calling John a little baby or a lovely broth of a boy.

It's all so damn complicated you know? And so fascinating.

[johns-prince]

Glasses, Bickering, On Being Remembered;

“One of my great memories of John is from when we were having some argument. I was disagreeing and we were calling each other names. We let it settle for a second and then he lowered his glasses and he said: “It’s only me.” And then he put his glasses back on again. To me, that was John. Those were the moments when I actually saw him without the facade, the armour, which I loved as well, like anyone else. It was a beautiful suit of armour. But it was wonderful when he let the visor down and you’d just see the John Lennon that he was frightened to reveal to the world.”

[x]

“Readers might detect duelling emotions in my recollections of John; that’s because my relationship with him was very mixed. Sometimes it was filled with great love and admiration, but other times not, especially around the time The Beatles were breaking up. …Sometimes I certainly thought he was being a complete idiot. Even though I was younger, I would try to explain to him why he was being stupid and why something he’d done was so unlike him. I remember him saying things to me like, ‘You know, Paul, I worry about how people are gonna remember me when I die.’ Thoughts like that shocked me, and I’d reply, ‘Hold on; just hold it right there. People are going to think you were great… I often felt like I was his priest and would have to say, ‘My son, you’re great. Just don’t worry about that.’”

[x]

“Whatever bad things John said about me, he would also slip his glasses down to the end of his nose and say, ’I love you’. That’s really what I hold on to. That’s what I believe. The rest is showing off.”

[x]

“I remember being shocked one day when John started worrying about how people would remember him when he was gone. It was an incredibly vulnerable thing for him to come out with. I said to him then, ‘They’ll remember you as a fucking genius, because that’s what you are. But, you won’t give a shit because you’ll be up there, flying across the universe.’”

[x]

“I wrote ‘Here Today’ about John. It’s just a song saying, you know, ‘If you were here today you’d probably say what I’m doing is a load of crap. But you wouldn’t mean it, cos you like me really, I know.’ It’s one of those ‘Come out from behind your glasses, look at me,’ things. It was a love song, really, not to John but a love song about John, about my relationship with him. I was trying to exorcise the demons in my own head.”

[x]

Quotes from Paul McCartney.

[jokerlennon]

pretending im back in the tv watching frame of mind again. am i? we will see

[yuugen-benni]

Armed Detective Agency members and their songs !

PM version - Here........DOA version - Here

Fukuzawa: (I could only think of him as ''dead'' after Fukuchi's attack)

''Your day is done, the time has come You battled hard, the war is won You did your worst, you tried your best Now it's time to rest. See the fire in your eyes'' - Mountain Hymn by Rhiannon Giddens

Yosano: (young!Yosano suits so much)

''Yeah, I'm coughing, I'm bleeding Band-Aids won't heal it 'Cause they hate me, so I'm fakin' All of-of this so they take-take me'' - Nurse's Office by Melanie Martinez

Atsushi:

''And I don't want your pity I just want somebody near me Guess I'm a coward I just want to feel alright And I know no one will save me I just need someone to kiss Give me one good honest kiss And I'll be alright'' - Nobody by Mitski

Dazai:

''Gimme, gimme, gimme some time to think I'm in the bathroom, looking at m e Face in the mirror is all I need (ooh) Wait until the reaper takes my life Never gonna get me out alive I will live a thousand million lives (ooh)'' - Bones by Imagine Dragons

Ranpo:

''But no matter how many fish in the sea It'll be so empty without me. Now this looks like a job for me So everybody just follow me Cuz we need a little controversy Cuz it feel so empty without me'' - Without me by Eminem

Kyoka:

''And I tried to hold her But it didn't really last long She's getting older I guess she's gotta cut her blue hair off'' - Blue hair by TV girl

Kenji:

''Close your eyes Have no fear The monster's gone He's on the run and your daddy's here Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful Beautiful boy'' - Beautiful Boy by John Lennon

Did you have any ideas? Reblog and write the lyrics of the song and the name of the character!

[lick-me-lennon22]

Teddy Boy!John Lennon X Modern!Reader - Smoke & Serendipity 🚬 (Part 2)

(thank you all for the overwhelming amount of love and praise for Smoke & Serendipity!! I hope this continuation lives up to your expectations 💕 enjoy!)

As John's figure disappears down the bustling streets, you're left standing in the alleyway, unable to shake the feeling of excitement and uncertainty swirling in your mind. The invitation to his band's gig at the Cavern Club hangs in the air, tempting you with the promise of adventure in this unfamiliar era.

You glance down at your attire once more, realizing that if you're going to fit in at this gig, you'll need a drastic wardrobe change. With determination powering every step, you set off to find the nearest clothing store, navigating the winding streets with a newfound sense of purpose. The sights and sounds of 1950s Liverpool flood your senses, fueling your excitement for the night ahead.

After what feels like an eternity of searching, you finally stumble upon a quaint boutique tucked away in a corner of the city. The bell above the door chimes as you step inside, greeted by the scent of mothballs and starched fabric. Rows of vintage clothing line the racks, each piece seemingly plucked straight from the pages of a decades-old magazine.

As you sift through the hangers and peruse the displays, your eyes land on a striking ensemble that catches your attention: a sleek leather jacket paired with tailored trousers and a fitted blouse. Eager to try it on, you gather the pieces and head to the fitting room, more than ready to shed your outdated attire in favor of something more fitting for the era.

Emerging from the stall, you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the dusty mirror and marvel at the transformation before you. The leather jacket fits like a second skin, the trousers hugging your frame in all the right places. With a satisfied smile, you pay for your new digs and step out onto the street, feeling like a different person entirely.

With your confidence renewed and your wardrobe updated, you set off once more in search of the Cavern Club, keen to make the most of your unexpected journey through time. You find yourself wondering what adventures await you at the club, and what role John and his band will play in your journey back to the present.

Anticipation builds as you approach the venue, the neon lights of the city illuminating your path ahead. With each step, you can feel the energetic atmosphere around you, the pulse of rock 'n' roll echoing through the air.

Stepping inside the dimly-lit club, the sound of live music spills out into the streets and you're greeted by the sight of a packed crowd, swaying to its rhythm. The air is thick with cigarette smoke and the smell of stale beer, adding to the gritty charm of the underground venue.

You push your way through the throngs of people, scanning the crowd for any sign of John. Finally, you spot him in the corner of the room, his unmistakable silhouette illuminated by the glow of the stage lights.

Making your way over to him, you can't help but feel a surge of excitement mingled with nervousness. You catch his eye, offering a small wave and smile as he greets you with a sly grin of his own.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to show up," he teases, his voice barely audible over the roar of the crowd.

"I couldn't resist," you reply, raising your voice to be heard over the din. "Besides, I just had to see what all the fuss was about."

John chuckles and nods toward the stage, where his bandmates are now tuning their instruments in preparation for their set.

"Just wait until you hear us play." Smug confidence is evident in his voice, that much is obvious- but just underneath, you swear you can detect the smallest hint of anxiety.

"We're going to blow your mind."

As the band takes the stage and launches into their first song, you find yourself swept up in the electrifying energy of the performance. The pure passion and talent demonstrated in their music resonate deeply with you, transcending the boundaries of time and space. John's voice cuts through the noise, raw and unfiltered, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. Enchanted by the pulsing beat of the drums and the warmth of the crowd, you feel more alive than you ever have before.

Lost in the music and company, you forget, if only for a moment, about the pressing question of how to return to your own time. For now, you're content to simply live in the present (or rather, the past), embracing the adventure and spontaneity of your unexpected journey. But as the final chords fade away and the lights come up, reality comes crashing back down around you.

With a heavy heart, you make your way toward the exit, the echoes of the music still ringing in your ears. But as you step out into the cool night air, a voice calls out from behind you.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?"

John's voice cuts through the darkness and shakes you from your train of thought. You turn to face him, a bittersweet smile playing at your lips.

"I... I have to go," you sigh, your voice wavering with uncertainty. But when you ponder your situation a moment longer, you come to the realization that you haven't considered where you're going to sleep - if you're even able to with everything weighing on your mind.

John snaps you back to attention with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Sure ya don't! It's Friday night, after all. Unless you just aren't interested in me, which I can't imagine is true." He takes a step closer and quirks an eyebrow at you, awaiting your reply to his bold suggestion.

"Is this your way of inviting me back to your place?"

He shrugs, trying to look nonchalant but secretly hoping you'll accept. You consider the possibility - on one hand, it's another night away from your own time. But on the other, you still have no clue how you'll get back to the present. And in the meantime, a comfy bed and a roof over your head would be nice.

"If so... sure. Why not?" You smile and look to John, whose face lights up as you finally your decision.

"Well, what are we waiting for then?"

John takes your hand in his and pulls you along behind him. You stumble over your own feet as you try to match his pace, giggling all the while.

Though the path back to your own time remains uncertain, you can't help but feel hopeful, reinvigorated with a newfound sense of belonging in this unfamiliar era.