They Make Me Sick Why Are They Like This

miscellaneous pics of John and George!!

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-Bengal

we as a fandom really underexamine how often crushing loneliness is a recurring theme in paul’s songwriting

Paul calling George Martin “Daddy”

Interviewer: When you look back on all of that now, how does it seem to you?

Pattie Boyd: It feels as if, I’m living, a second life now. That was such a- almost like a fantasy life.

Interviewer: Do you miss it?

Pattie Boyd: Sometimes I do. Yes.

paul: john likes me ?!?! but ...😳 hes a boy ... and ... IM a boy >_<

george: uughh how can i get them to see im just as good of a songwriter as them🚬🚬

john: okay ringo now hit the second tower

January 13th, 1969 (Twickenham Film Studios, London): John contends with how the force of his partnership with Paul and his relationship with Yoko has negatively affected George and perhaps directly contributed to George’s walkout on the group three days prior. (Note: Follows shortly after this clip. My apologies for the vagueness; this is a very difficult excerpt to interpret, and I change my mind about it constantly, as the emotional nuances of what is being conveyed shift significantly depending on whom you presume John is speaking to (Paul or Yoko) about whom (Paul, George, or Yoko) and whom it is in reference to or is directed towards (Paul, George, or Yoko), word to word. I did initially try to indicate who’s who in brackets next to the relevant pronouns, but the transcript got dreadfully cluttered, and as I said, I have hardly nailed myself to a mast. Basically, this is a fannish Rorschach test and Your Mileage May Vary.)

JOHN: And it’s just that, you know. It’s only this year that you’ve suddenly realised, like who I am, or who he is, or anything like that. But the thing is—

PAUL: But I still haven’t realised that. What I’m – the process.

YOKO: [inaudible]

JOHN: Yeah yeah, but you realise that some – like you were saying, like George was some other part. But up till then, you’d had a – your thing that carried you forward. [pause; Yoko speaking?] I know, I’d adjusted before you. Alright, that would make me hipper than you, but I know that I’d adjusted to you before that – for selfish reasons, and for good reasons, not knowing what else to do, and for all these reasons. I’d adjusted to all these and allowed you [inaudible] – you know, if you wanted to let me— [inaudible] —very, very… whatever it is. But this year, you’ve seen, you’ve seen what you’ve been doing, and what everybody’s been doing, and not only did we feel guilty about it, the way we all feel guilty about our relationship to each other, because we could do more… 

YOKO: [inaudible]

JOHN: I know, the thing is that I’m – I can’t – I’m not putting any blame on you for only suddenly realising it, see, because it’s [inaudible] our game, you know; it might have been masochistic, but the goal was still the same, self-preservation. And I knew what I liked about that. I know where the – even if I didn’t know where I was at, you know, the table’s there, and… let him do what he wants, and George too, you know…

PAUL: I know. I know—

JOHN: And I have won.

PAUL: But this thing has been—

JOHN: But I think you—

PAUL: You have—

JOHN: I feel it’s you.

PAUL: Whatever it is, you have. Yeah, I know. Well, I’ve had [inaudible]—

JOHN: Because you – ’cause you’ve suddenly got it all, you see.

PAUL: Mm.

JOHN: I know that, because of the way I am, like when we were in Mendips, like I said, “Do you like me?” or whatever it is. I’ve always – uh, played that one.

PAUL: [laughs nervously] Yes.

JOHN: So.

PAUL: Uh, I’d been watching, I’d been watching. I’d been watching the picture.

YOKO: Go back to George. What are we going to do about George?

JOHN: Yeah, I’m – yeah, sure. But this year, suddenly, it’s all happened to you, and you sort of go – you’re taking the blame, suddenly, as if, uh… Oh, he’d say, “Oh yeah, you know [inaudible],” as if I’ve never known it. And then he thought, “Fucking hell. I know what he’s like. I know he used to kick people. I know how he connived with Len, Ivan. I know him, you know? Fuck him.” And then, oh, but, but right, I’ve done such things… all that. So you’ve taken the five years that [inaudible], you’ve taken the five years of trouble, this year. So half of me says, alright, you know I’ll do anything to save you, to help you. And the other half of me says, well serves him fucking right. I’ve chewed through fucking shit because of him for five years, and he’s only just realised what he was doing [to her?]. So, and that’s something – we’ve both known it, you know? [laughs] And it is incredible. [pause] PAUL: Yeah.

Pattie Remembers George

Q: “Was it heartbreaking to fall out of love with George Harrison? I mean, to fall in love with him is an amazing story.” Pattie Boyd: “Oh, it was heartbreaking, of course it was. You know, it was like… I was losing someone who was my best friend and who I adored, and we learnt an awful lot of very important things, issues, during our time together. We learnt them together. So this is something one will never forget.” Q: “What did he teach you, and what did you teach him?” PB: “No, we both learnt together. We learnt, you know, about art, about film making, about meditation, about all sorts of things.” - BBC Radio, September 2019 “I think probably the memory that will always remain with me is when he came to see me not long before he passed away. And he came over to my cottage and wanted to see the garden and wanted to see my darkroom because I’d been doing some printing, and, um, he wanted to see the flowers. And he said — he saw some flowers, tiny little flowers that were growing in a crack in the pavement, and the wind was blowing them. He referred to them as ‘shivering flowers,’ and I thought, ‘Oh God, that’s so sweet.’ He just had a wonderful view, and he used such a different language to describe what he was feeling or thinking. And, you know, he brought me a little gift, a little something for my studio, a little Krishna. And, you know, he was just always generous and kind and sweet and always had a good sense of humor.”

Pattie Boyd (on how she best remembers George), Every Little Thing With Ken Michaels, February 2019

nerk twins

 Brian and Paul plays a game of cards during the Philippines leg of the Beatles’ final world tour, 3rd-5th July 1966. 

(Photos by Robert Whitaker/Getty Images)

Tony Bramwell on Brian:

- Brian dropped in at the Cavern and, spoiled for choice, fell in love at first sight with each of the Beatles in turn

- Brian almost promised to love, honour and obey them.

- He never publicly showed his embarrassment with poor deals, but one could tell something wasn’t right because inside, he anguished. Chewed his knuckles and grew pale.

- He was a fiercely loyal and honourable friend to those he loved, and ruthless toward those he despised

- He was shy to the point of blushing and stammering, and theatrical to the point of ranting and frothing at the mouth

- His biggest problem, perhaps his only real problem, was that he was homosexual in a still very unenlightened era. It kept getting in the way. Whenever he sat down for a meeting with heavyweights like Sir Joseph Lockwood at EMI, or whoever, he felt they all knew. “They’re talking behind my back, Tony,” Brian said. “They don’t respect me.”

- Paul was fond of Brian and thought he was the best possible manager: one who was courteous, who didn’t interfere with their private lives, but achieved all he said he would do. He never criticized him—none of us did. Brian was a god.  (It was only later that the façade cracked a bit, but even then we loved him. He was like family, and you accept your family for what they are and forgive them most anything.)

- his wonderfully fertile mind continuously thinking up innovative ideas and then worrying about them

- Brian was so different when around his beloved protégés. He became one of them. He was a friend, a chum, charming, trustworthy and kind. He set out to do what he promised and they all said it would never have happened without him.

- Brian bought an off-the-shelf company named Suba Films, which I virtually ran. It was way ahead of its time, the only independent company in England making music videos

- Whenever things got raunchy and out of hand around us, he would make his excuses and leave. At times, he almost ran.

- [on writing his biography]: “You don’t think John will think I’m raining on his parade, do you?” he asked hesitantly.

- I believe that Brian’s paranoia over the Beatles’ contract and his heavy use of drugs led him to think that it was only a matter of time before everything came tumbling down and he would be left standing in the ruins, with people pointing their fingers like kids in a playground.

- He was seriously ill and desperately sought to escape from the circus of his own creation.

- He was tormented by the idea of letting down his beloved Cilla and the Beatles, particularly John.

- He underwent deep sleep therapies at the Priory, being put under for days at a time with heavy drugs.

- Whether he managed the Beatles or not, he would still get 25 percent of their earnings from record sales for nine years. This subtlety had somehow escaped the Beatles, but it bothered Brian. It gnawed at his conscience because in his heart he knew he had conned them.

- [He] was abnormally distressed, convincing himself that they weren’t going to sign up again because they loathed him. Going through months of paranoia, he looked for reasons and forlornly asked the question, “Don’t they like me anymore?”

- It was so silly because it wasn’t like that at all. At different times, all of them commented to me that they would never have signed another contract as “Beatles” but they would have signed individually with Brian.

- “No, I think John hates me now. I don’t know what I’ll do if they don’t sign. What will people think? I can see the headlines now: EPSTEIN DUMPED BY BEATLES.”

- He was now seriously unhappy, not just troubled. His personality had radically changed.

- Brian had resident nurses, doctors who stayed, psychiatrists who lived in, all crowded into that little doll’s house, getting on each other’s nerves. At times he’d make an effort. He would sweet-talk everyone and then escape when they weren’t looking.

- [after Brian's death] Joanne was in shock. She had seen him first. The doors had been broken down and there he was, curled up on his side in bed with Saturday’s mail lying next to him. “We all knew at once that he was dead, but I heard myself say, ‘It’s all right, he’s just asleep. He’s fine,’ ” she said.

- It was unbelievable that the man who had got all this going—the vast money-making machine and the culture shock that had changed the world—was gone.

- The Summer of Love was over and autumn coming.

- I have been asked many times why it was that the Beatles didn’t just hire an office manager to handle their business affairs and pay him or her a salary. It would have made sense. But it never occurred to them. They just went blindly on, trying to find someone to replace Brian, like it was some kind of law. They seemed to think that they had to have a manager, to whom they had to give 25 percent of their gross income, or they’d be arrested or drummed out of the Brownies.