Now that I got the geek fanboy out of me, after The Dark Knight finished, I get into my car and the CD player starts. I burn mp3s to CD and each disk contains about 12 albums or 200 songs. The player has a nasty habit of reverting to the first track each time I start the car which makes me mad if I've just been listening to something in the middle of the disk. So I hit random and up pops "Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)." I'm not a big Beatles fan, but I like "She Said She Said:" "She said I know what it’s like to be dead,... And you’re making me feel like I’ve never been born," for my own reasons. Anyway, I own Revolver and Rubber Soul.
So Norwegian Wood plays:
I once had a girl
Or should I say, she once had me
She showed me her room
Isn't it good Norwegian wood?
She asked my to stay and told me sit anywhere
So I looked around and I noticed there wasn't a chair
I sat on a rug, biding my time
Drinking her wine
We talked until two, and then she said:"It's time for bed,"
She told me she worked in the morning and started to laugh
I told her I didn't, and crawled off to sleep in the bath
And when I awoke, I was alone
This bird has flown
So I lit a fire
Isn't it good Norwegian wood?
And immediately, it struck me that the guy in the song sets fire to the girl's place.
In the past, I might have thought that he lit the fire with a small think, a piece of furniture, but I never thought that he set the whole place on fire. But it made perfect sense.
One of the themes in the new Batman movie is that normal people will turn evil when plans are destroyed; the Joker says we should never plan anything. In Norwegian Wood, the guy apparently plans to sleep with the girl, and when he doesn't (or does, but is then sent to sleep in the bathroom because she's finished with him and he's not welcome in her bed), he goes mad and starts a fire. Don't take it from me, these people feel the same way.
I wonder if simply watching something can change us. That watching that movie changed my perspective on that song. No, watching doesn't change us. Becoming involved changes us.
From Wikipedia:
This exchange took place in a press conference in Los Angeles:
Reporter: I'd like to direct this question to messrs. Lennon and McCartney. In a recent article, Time magazine put down pop music. And they referred to "Day Tripper" as being about a prostitute...
Paul: Oh yeah.
Reporter: ...and "Norwegian Wood" as being about a lesbian.
Paul: Oh yeah.
Reporter: I just wanted to know what your intent was when you wrote it, and what your feeling is about the Time magazine criticism of the music that is being written today.
Paul: We were just trying to write songs about prostitutes and lesbians, that's all.
Ha! Now that's comedy.
I love how Paul just becomes a wall, no involvement with the reporter, no confrontation. Just gives everything back with no malice. I think he was high.
I'll try to change the facts of the situation, but I recently had a patron who made copies and when he looked at them got upset because they weren't in color:
Him: I want a refund. The copies aren't in color.
Me: This copier doesn't do color.
Him: Every copier does color. I want my money back.
Me: This copier doesn't do color.
Him: I want these in color.
Me: This copier doesn't do color. That's the color copier over there.
His: I want these in color.
Me: That's the color copier. This copier doesn't do color.
I know it doesn't look good, but in my mind, we can't get further until we resolve the issue at hand: the he needs to acknowledge that he used the wrong copier. It's not for me; it's for him. The first step in getting help is to realize that you need help. If I just give in and throw money at him, then I didn't help; I become his bitch.
He put his paper on the copier, he put his money in the machine, and he pressed print. No one forced him to do these things.
When I was in my twenties, I would have told him to wait ten years until we invent time travel, then he can come back to that point and just tell himself to use the other copier. Or to prevent a time paradox from meeting himself, put an "Out of Order" sign on the black and white copier.
So his irresistible force meets my immovable object. And eventually he takes his copies and leaves.
And like The Joker, I smile a big, red smile. Because I wear clown make-up to work. Oh, didn't I tell you that?
(If you want to get in touch with your inner Joker, try this quiz.)
