Bed Stu

Confessions songwriter #2

The true fan of Beatle knows that Stu Sutcliffe was the original low player, that is dead of an embolism of brain before the Beatles became famous. But and if it had not been Stu with mortal weakness, but rather. ..?

There is the very small time left now. The meeting will intervene in an hour question: a so significant event for the future generations that nothing can be allowed changing it of some manner. I found the boy: a cheerful soul with the wide eyes that question the world with the recreation. It does not know the way that is regulated for him, or the small thing in his brain that comes me here by the time oceans. We consented that the this is a task that must be done for soul peace everywhere. Of my place of concealment through the square I await it to appear on this cloudy day. In the skies I see a whirlwind that promises more storms but the people around me, the simple people with the levels of low reception they do not understand, passes in their model life. Once the boy is in the view, my moment will allow me to meet it at the window where it stops himself without the exception everyday to hold and admire. I am programed with every track of memory of the projection business by the more goods spirits in our universe. It there not did at random did not represent: no variations did not calculate to the infinite degree. I see it now. The boy comes around the corner whistling an air of his clean one to do, with the high eyebrows in the pleasure as the activity in the square greets his vision. For a moment it slows down as it passes the store they call the baker, but resumes then his trip through the square directly towards me where I am held near to the store that intrigues for him if. Every step that it takes is more important than it never can know, but his cheerful mouse shows none of this as it attains the store window that sells instruments of music and the stops with the hands in the pockets to stare at in the familiar routine. If it should look at me, it would see only another boy his own age, but his attention is unshakeable and complete on one of the items in the window. It leans himself forward until the nose touches the glass. Hofner. .. He says all top to person. Loovely, it says and his home is so complete that I take three quick steps towards him, churn the transformation coat on him and the action is done. I turn window and resumes my trip. In my spirit are thoughts done at random of how to obtain enough money for the music instrument, with the explosions of spontaneous melodies in the bottom. A part of my spirit sees pictures to play a guitar sitting on a bed in a small one but friendly piece. I walk on. The this is 30 minutes later and I came to a field open than a small festival filled with the music, the banners and the gabber and the laugh of two hundred people. I attained just the first choirstall when someone calls my name and I turn to see that my Ivan of smiling friend to me while the activity of the just flows around him. Come here, it says, I obtained it you should meet. I am it deeper in the fairground to stop in front of a small one and shaking step scarcely three feet of the ground. The meeting on the corner with the legs flapping around on the edge is a lean youth in a shirt and a black John with the hair combed return in the extravagant sculpture and a cigarette flapping around of the corner of his mouth of thin lipped. His left hand adjusts the tone of the strings of the guitar that it holds on its legs while its eyes measure me with care. Hed, Johnny. .. Ivan says with a measure of offhand agitation to the lean face. .. Gory someone should meet you... it is a guitar player also... Johnny squints by the cigarette smoke to me. Oh ouais? ...He says. Ouais. .. Says Ivan and launches his arm around my shoulders. Johnny. .. Says Ivan. .. Meet Paul McCartney...

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