Beyond The Sea

He's mostly remembered for totally blowing a gig back in the sixties and now here he is living in the little clapboard next to the town dump. But of course it's a New England coastal town dump, so it's actually clean. Apparently some sort of seals or something come wiggling out of the surf at night and lick it clean.

Well, I suppose technically they eat a bit too, but it's better not to think of that.

I hear him through the window, this once proud songwriter, and he continues to plink away at the same damn note on the piano. I stand there for a good 15 minutes and it goes on: Plink. Plink. Plink. Finally I go up to his door, knock on it and he appears.

"What's with the same note, over and over?" I ask.

And he says, "Well, it's the right note."  ¶ 5:06 PM