In April, I realized that there was nothing I could do to prevent my life from being boring beyond inventing narrative devices to disguise it. So that’s the story of how John Lennon and Paul McCartney became my spirit guides.

In I’ve Just Seen A Face, Paul McCartney shows up to champion the Great Paul McCartney Love Story of my life; but, I eventually decide, “I don’t necessarily trust Paul McCartney’s advice.” (I’m a John, you know?)

Next I wrote I Call Your Name (“the one in which John Lennon officially outed his craziness to the world”), which is so self-indulgently “I’M ON A JOHN LENNON RAMPAGE”, it’s about loving someone so much it makes you want to kill yourself. Bleeding yourself dry by writing I Call Your Name in your own blood, which is “how it’s intended to be read.” “Dick streaks,” sado-masochism, Svengalis. Slicing your chest open with a ruby, ripping your own heart out of your chest, writing about your love for him really brilliantly, showing up at his front door wearing high heels and a sweet blue minidress, holding your own heart in your hand.

And then John Lennon says, “No, this is cool. You’re being really cool right now, Laura Jane. You’re cool to me. I think this is cool behavior and a cool relationship. I like this. I’m into it, for you.”

The Inner Light started out trying to be mostly about George Harrison, but then ended up being about “Imagine if John Lennon was reincarnated as an avocado and then I smashed half an avocado into my hair and then a piece of John Lennon’s soul became intertwined my own soul, forever, because there’s no going back on “cosmic soul transference.”" It’s also about pot brownies, the “Bob Spitz I Ching,” and then at the very end George Harrison swoops in to remind me that what really matters is love and leaves, and I agree with him.

Next up is Mean Mr Mustard/Polythene Pam, which is fucking bonkers. I wrote most of it while drinking Diet A&W Root Beer and Iceberg Vodka, which definitely comes across. I have to fix Mean Mr Mustard/Polythene Pam to make it make more sense, but I’m probably going to procrastinate doing that for the next year or so. The inspiration behind Mean Mr Mustard is this brown Bic lighter I used to have, which made me hear music as brown. Also, near the end of April, I felt pretty killer-diller as it was, as I always do when it’s just turning into spring. I just rediscovered the sentences “I take back all that enlightenment shit. I want to make them compete in athletics competitions for my heart.” Clearly, an Inner Light reference, in homage to “The Walrus was Paul.”

I believe in life being art and art being life. The highly idiosyncratic neurosis I constantly face is how to execute that belief in Beatles-writing without being incredibly fucking boring.