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The Monday Morning Memo


Perhaps the most haunting song ever written.

ttucker23
writes in thecultureclub.net,
“
Eleanor Rigby is perhaps the Beatles’ most shocking song.
Not simply because of the sound of it, which was an
abrupt departure for its time, but because of its theme.
It is hard to think of a more desolate statement in
any work of art, let alone popular music.

This song marked a sudden break with the optimism
that was a hallmark of The Beatles’ earlier work,
and in its place presented an almost unbearably dark cynicism.
Two lonely people, living in a church community, cannot
find a way to connect and end up living their entire lives alone
and apart. Their destiny is not that they will end up together,
but that one buries the other, a grim irony that
would be humorous if it weren’t tragic.

Eleanor Rigby 
(Lennon/McCartney)


Ah, look at all the lonely people.
Ah, look at all the lonely people.



gt;
Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been,
Lives in a dream,
Waits at the window, wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door.
Who is it for?

All the lonely people,
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people,
Where do they all belong?

Father McKenzie writing the words of a sermon that no one will hear.
No one comes near.
Look at him working, darning his socks in the night when there’s nobody there.
What does he care?

All the lonely people,
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people,
Where do they all belong?

Ah, look at all the lonely people
Ah, look at all the lonely people

Eleanor Rigby died in the church and was buried along with her name.
Nobody came.
Father McKenzie, wiping the dirt from his hands as he walks from the grave.
No one was saved.

All the lonely people,
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people,

Where do they all belong? 
 

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Random Quote:

“Oh, what can you do with a man like that? What can you do? How can you dissuade his eye in a crowd from seeking out the cheek with acne, the infirm hand; how can you teach him to respond to the inestimable greatness of the race, the harsh surface beauty of life; how can you put his finger for him on the obdurate truths before which fear and horror are powerless? The sea that morning was iridescent and dark. My wife and my sister were swimming – Diana and Helen – and I saw their uncovered heads, black and gold in the dark water. I saw them come out and I saw that they were naked, unshy, beautiful, and full of grace, and I watched the naked women walk out of the sea.”

- John Cheever, final paragraph of his story Goodbye, My Brother.

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