Man On The Run

Last week I got an email from AXS Ticketing inviting me to register to buy tickets to see Paul McCartney at the Fonda – an intimate theatre in LA.

I’m like what?

I signed myself up, set an iphone alarm for just before the time to go online (a few days later) to buy them.

I sat poised. Finger on top of my email address, password, and registration number. 10am. I hit > buy tickets.

After which, I was made to watch all ten of the AXS ads. Of course. I also had to watch a little stick figure walking on a path – the closer it got to the end of the path, the closer I got to the front of the line.

I waited. I watched. I waited. I watched.

My turn. Click here. I clicked.

I had a ballpark figure of what I’d pay for tickets. I’m thinking …. I don’t know, 400? 800? But no. $4200. For two. I’m like what, again.   

Now, thing is, I have the money but really, Paul? I mean this isn’t a Stubhub  or Ticket Master issue. What about the people who’ve got no fucking money? Don’t they ever get to see you? Don’t they matter?

The guy has more money than God. I don’t get it and he doesn’t have all that much more time to spend it. I guess unless you’re somebody who has that much you’ll never know how it feels to want more.

In the time it took for me to confer with Adam, who was hovering over my shoulder, in case I needed Tech help (which I did not) the tickets were gone.

I tried to log on again, but AXS shamed me. I lost my place.

Now. as you may know, I’m a Beatles obsessive. Always was. Always will be. No one will ever compare to Paul. Although after reading Susan Rogers’ “This Is What It Feels Like,” I realized I was actually more of a John-girl when it came to where the song hit me – in the gut (John) vs above the neck (Paul).

I streamed the new doc, Man On The Run. How could I not?

I was trans-fucking-fixed from the moment I hit the remote til when it was over. Just frozen. I learned stuff that I kind of knew, but never really appreciated.

Like … how, when the Beatles broke up, Paul secluded himself with Linda and their kids and sheep and rams on a farm in Scotland. But this part … No cooks, no servants no driver … cuz no place to go. A far cry from the Beatles. That was the point. That blew my mind.

And yes, John was quitting the group, but he never came out publicly. And when Paul finally did, John was pissed that Paul said it first. Is that the truth? It’s plausible. We’ll never know for sure.

And then there was the part about how the original member of Wings quit because they weren’t getting paid enough. 😳 Paul said he didn’t talk to accounting so he had no idea. 😳😳 And, he said, if they wanted to make bank they should write songs as good as he did. I mean 😳😳😳!

My friend Kathleen star-spotted Paul in the parking lot of the Bed Bath Beyond in Sherman Oaks about 20 years ago, when he was married to the woman who was down a leg. Heather. She was in there shopping.

Kathleen and I are still trying to make sense of what she was in the market for that Paul couldn’t have summoned with a snap of his fingers.

After seeing the movie though, it made sense. He had taken buses to the Hamptons instead of private cars. He has a curiosity about what it feels like to be part of the human race. He will never know.

I love Paul. That will never change. The body of work. The crush – the way he looked from 27-33. Who needs testosterone cream?

And because of this quote: “You strum a chord and then you kind of see where it leads you. Like breadcrumbs, memories, even regrets, or even the future. If you’ve got some sort of problems, you work them out in the song. It’s really the ultimate therapy I think.”

Exactly.

So what are these feelings I’m feeling? I’m kind of angry at Paul cuz of the money thing. AND I wish I’d bought the f*cking tickets.

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