Utopian Turtletop. Monsieur Croche's Bête Noire. Contact: turtletop [at] hotmail [dot] com

Friday, March 19, 2004


It was several months ago. I was hanging out with George Harrison. He was still alive, even though he had recently died. He was showing me around his enormous gorgeous estate in England. We were checking out an underground stream -- we were in some sort of primitive wall-less elevator to get down to it, and we had stopped to play guitars. I sang him one of my songs and got embarrassed and said, “You play one.”

“No, that was great, you play another,” he said, smiling and encouraging.

Then, last night, John and George were both alive, and I was in the Beatles, trying to facilitate a reunion. Paul had edited a new version of “Dig a Pony” (one of my favorites), adding his own song “Carry That Weight” to the middle. I never liked “Carry That Weight,” and the new version really bugged everyone and I said so. Paul got really huffy and hurt and I was like, hey man, don’t take it so personally, I didn’t like what you did with the song but I love you, bro. And that mollified him.

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