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Thread: Remembering John Lennon

  1. #1

    Remembering John Lennon

    This Week was John Lennon's death anniversary,I still can't believe how many years have passed...!

    I'll never forget that December 8th,1980 when John Lennon was killed,I was just 9 years and it was unbelievable to see that oÂ*ne of my favorite singers had died in such a coward way...

    Remembering John Lennon...

  2. #2
    I felt like my brother had been shot. As a child of the 60's, Lennon and the Beatles were the heart and soul of our culture. Such a meaningless death.

    I heard on the radio yesterday, that with Yoko's permission, a special license plate is being produced with one of Lennon's 'Imagine' pictures on it; it will cost $25 and the proceeds will go to the Florida Food Bank. Pretty neat.

    What people say, what people do, and what they say they do are entirely different things. - Margaret Mead

  3. #3
    Strange enough, I just read a story about John Lennon talking to a guy about being abducted by aliens. Have a read.

    The Night Aliens Called On Lennon

    They came in the darkness and had bug-like faces. Stranger
    still, they left a weird egg-shaped object behind. Uri Geller
    recalls his friend John Lennon's encounter with the unknown

    There is an egg-like object in my pocket. It was given to me by
    John Lennon. And it was given to him by... well, I'll come to

    We were eating in a restaurant in New York City. Yoko was with
    us, so this was after their big break-up and reconciliation.
    Yoko was expecting their child, Sean, and John was excited - he
    was going to love this baby day and night: feed him, change him,
    teach him to talk, teach him to love music.

    He did all of that. And he was going to watch him grow into
    adolescence, through the tumbles from bicycles and terrors of
    schooldays, from reading to dating to college. He never got to
    do that. John started talking about UFOs.

    He said he believed life existed on other planets, that it had
    visited us, that maybe it was observing us right now. He took me
    to a quieter, darker table, lit a cigarette and pointed its
    glowing tip at my face.

    "You believe in this stuff, right?" he asked me. "Well, you
    ain't f---in' gonna believe this.

    "About six months ago, I was asleep in my bed, with Yoko, at
    home, in the Dakota Building. And suddenly, I wasn't asleep.
    Because there was this blazing light round the door. It was
    shining through the cracks and the keyhole, like someone was out
    there with searchlights, or the apartment was on fire.

    "That was what I thought - intruders, or fire. I leapt out of
    bed, and Yoko wasn't awake at all, she was lying there like a
    stone, and I pulled open the door. There were these four people
    out there."

    "Fans?" I asked him.

    "Well they didn't want my f---in' autograph. They were, like,
    little. Bug-like. Big bug eyes and little bug mouths and they
    were scuttling at me like roaches."

    He broke off and stared at me.

    "I've told this to two other people, right? One was Yoko, and
    she believes me. She says she doesn't understand it, but she
    knows I wouldn't lie to her. I told one other person, and she
    didn't believe me.

    "She laughed it off, and then she said I must have been high.
    Well, I've been high, I mean right out of it, a lot of times,
    and I never saw anything on acid that was as weird as those
    f---in' bugs, man.

    "I was straight that night. I wasn't dreaming and I wasn't
    tripping. There were these creatures, like people but not like
    people, in my apartment."

    "What did they do to you?" Lennon swore again. "How do you know
    they did anything to me, man?" "Because they must have come for
    a reason."

    "You're right. They did something. But I don't know what it was.
    I tried to throw them out, but, when I took a step towards them,
    they kind of pushed me back. I mean, they didn't touch me. It
    was like they just willed me. Pushed me with willpower and

    "And then what?"

    "I don't know. Something happened. Don't ask me what. Either
    I've forgotten, blocked it out, or they won't let me remember.
    But after a while they weren't there and I was just lying on the
    bed, next to Yoko, only I was on the covers.

    "And she woke up and looked at me and asked what was wrong. I
    couldn't tell her at first. But I had this thing in my hands.
    They gave it to me."

    "What was it?" Lennon dug into his jeans pocket. "I've been
    carrying it round ever since, wanting to ask somebody the same
    question. You have it. Maybe you'll know."

    I took the metal, egg-like object and turned it over in the dim
    light. It seemed solid and smooth, and I could make out no
    markings. "I've never seen anything like it."

    "Keep it." John told me. "It's too weird for me. If it's my
    ticket to another planet, I don't want to go there."

    When we first met on November 28, 1974, almost exactly 30 years
    ago, he was suffering terribly from his separation from Yoko.
    His drug abuse and drinking, linked to the sorrow of Yoko's
    recent miscarriage, had driven them apart, and John desperately
    wanted to mend the relationship.

    He just didn't know how to make the first move. The night Lennon
    and I were introduced, Elton John was playing at Madison Square
    Gardens. Elton was trying to persuade the ex-Beatle to get up on
    stage with him, and John was torn - he wanted to perform but he
    was scared.

    Finally, he turned to me and offered a deal, as though I were a
    negotiator sent by God: "I'll sing," he said, "but you have to
    make Yoko call me."

    Like all of John's jokes, this one was a plea from the heart,
    wrapped in a sardonic quip. Yoko phoned John out of the blue, 36
    hours later. I think John always believed I had beamed a mind-
    control ray at her. For my part, I think that of all the
    synchronicities that have shaped my life, that was one of the

    John Lennon was a compulsive doodler. The last autograph he ever
    signed, 15 minutes before Mark Chapman gunned him down outside
    his home at the Dakota Building, on December 9, 1980, features a
    double portrait of himself and his wife, Yoko Ono. The drawings
    are done in a couple of lines - the style is unmistakable and so
    are the faces.

    I always marvelled at John's skill as an artist. There is no
    doubt that, if he'd been tone deaf and tuneless, the boy who
    created The Beatles could have become a successful painter or
    illustrator. During the last year of his life, we met most weeks
    to chat over a coffee in one of the hotels near our New York

    Sometimes John would bring Sean, who was about four years old
    then. The rocker had put his music career on hold while the
    child was small. John once told me how bitterly he regretted
    that while his first son, Julian, was a toddler, he himself was
    devoting his energies to the stage or the studio, or would be
    out partying with friends.

    "You don't get those years back," he said. "I'm not going to
    miss a minute while Sean is growing up."

    That is the greatest tragedy of my friend's death. He had
    finally learned what made him happy, and then he was robbed of
    it. What really interested me about John was not his incredible
    life, his fame or his talent, but his deep spirituality.

    I too was working out what made me happy - I'd realised at last
    that buying watches and eating six helpings of dessert before
    making myself throw up was not the path to nirvana.

    The shock of Lennon's murder was one of the powerful forces that
    drove me to quit New York and spend a year in Japan, undergoing
    a spiritual detox. John spoke with passion about Japanese views
    of life, and I am certain that Yoko's philosophies were at the
    core of his last years.

    I was woken on the day John was shot by a call from a friend,
    Roland, a publisher who lived opposite the Dakota.

    "He's dead," Roland sobbed. "They killed John." I dressed in a
    few seconds and ran across town: somehow I had to see the house
    to believe the news. The radio reports weren't enough.

    If John really were dead, if this wasn't some sick media hoax,
    then there would be people outside his home with candles and
    prayer bells. They were there, in their hundreds already.

    I didn't have to push my way through the crowd; I simply stood
    and stared across the road, and then walked away through Central
    Park with the tears running down my face.

    Now, 24 years on, when I hold the cold, metal egg in my fist, I
    have a strong sensation that John knew more about this object
    than he told me. Maybe it didn't come with an instruction
    manual, but I think John knew what it was for.

    And whatever that purpose was - communication? healing? a first-
    class intergalactic ticket? - it scared him. I wish I could have
    warned him... that however scary aliens seem, it's the humans
    you have to fear.

    "So I have stayed as I am, without regret, seperated from the normal human condition." Guy Sajer

  4. #4
    John, we still miss you a lot....we still Imagine.


  5. #5
    1980 really was the year the music died. In 1980 we also lost Bon Scott and John Bonham

  6. #6
    Join Date
    Dec 2003
    Yep, I remember it well. I was 19. However, Scott and Bonham were overdose related.

  7. #7
    Yup. Both Bonhan and Scott died from aspirating vomit after heavy drinking. One has to wonder how the music scene would be different today if we never lost these people. AC/DC went on to their most successful album with Back in Black (the title was a tribute to Bon). Zeppelin never recorded again together even though In Through The Out Door was at the top of the charts when Bonham died. Lennon left us all wondering if the world might be a better place if we all "BELIEVED"

  8. #8
    What would have Jim Morrison and Jimi Hendrix produced had their lives not been cut short in such a similar manner?

    "So I have stayed as I am, without regret, seperated from the normal human condition." Guy Sajer

  9. #9
    Don't forget Janis Joplin...another loss to substance abuse.


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