A thought…

Last night, I’d read something in Rolling Stone about some kind of "Lost Beatles Tapes". It got me to thinking about the Beatles - and how there’s only 1/2 of them left alive. Only one of which I would consider worth a shit. Ringo (despite his kickin name) can suck on my fat one.

Later on, while I was trying to sleep, my mind wandered. I got to thinking about Paul McCartney. I got to realizing…. that man HAS to be the most depressed individual alive.

His wife of however many years, whom he loved more than anything - died several years ago. His bandmates/best friends for years - whom he helped drive to be arguably the greatest band of all time - are almost all dead. The band itself was only together for 7 years between the release of their first single "Love Me Do" and when they broke up. He hasn’t been able to capture the passion, the love, the glory of that music since. There’s nothing left for him to accomplish, I’m sure. No matter what he does in his life from here on out - NOTHING could ever hold a candle to what’s already been done. He’s got no new goals to shoot for, he seems done with fighting for peace, singing for causes. There’s no money left to be made. Where’s his motivation to even get up in the morning? I couldn’t live that life. A life where every dream I’ve ever had came true, but now the dream is over. A life where, in my ever-growing old age and wisdom, means fuck-all to anyone anymore.

Sure, a person can look over their life and be proud of their accomplishments. Revel in their own glory. But, that’s GOT to get old at one point. He’s got to be at a point where he feels deprived of everything he’s loved. Any goal he might have is either impossible, or incredibly easy. Finding women? C’mon… he’s Paul McFUCKINGCartney. Money? Shit… he’s gotta be close to the richest musician of all time. Fame? Goes without saying. Any awards, critiques, special honors - they’ve all been handed to him long ago. Any new ones would be a pity vote at this point. Or, an attempt to once again grasp what was done long ago.

Fuck, that’s gotta be miserable. He can’t even walk the streets LOOKING for inspiration, because he’ll get nabbed, bothered, snapped at by cameras, annoyed by reporters… every 10 steps.

I’m amazed he’s always smiling. I can’t figure it out. Maybe he’s braindead at this point in his life. Who can say. I just… I couldn’t imagine how horrible it would be to live that life. May I never get there.

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