I love Harry Nilsson. I love his voice, his songs and most especially the lyrics. In one song he sings:
Dreams are nothing more than wishes
And a wish is just a dream
You wish would come true.
Well, I had a dream, and I certainly did wish that it would come true.
You see, I left school as soon as I could. I hated it. I hated the place, the teachers,
and most of the other kids: certainly all of the girls. I had only three real interests:
boys, smoking and pop music. I have no idea why I was as I was. I wasn't a bad person;
I didn't steal, or lie, or fight. My parents were not bad people at all. They were
just very ordinary. Mum kept home, and did a bit of cleaning for richer folk. Dad
moved from one poorly paid job to another; I can't even remember what he did exactly.
When I hit my teens, I ceased to communicate with them beyond the basics. I suppose
they tried to keep me on the rails, and, in truth, I didn't go that far off them:
no drugs, no abortions -
Did I have a dream in those days? Not that I can remember. I left school just as
soon as I could, and I suppose the teachers were just as glad to see me go as I was
to part from them. I guess that they thought I was thick, but that wasn't true. I
wasn't thick. I just wasn't interested in what they were trying to teach me. I could
read and write OK, and was pretty good with figures, and that seemed to be enough
for me. Why would I want to know where Japan was on the map of the world? I was never
going to go there. And the volume of a cone -
I got a job soon enough, working as a check-