Paul You Little Shit - Tumblr Posts

I don't blame Artie for not getting the hint, mind you. I'm sometimes oblivious too, I understand. But that's sad. And funny at the same time, lol. But mostly sad. Hell of a song, anyway!

“i’m mad paul simon didn’t tell me so long, frank lloyd wright was about me” i don’t know. is that on him or is it on you? did he harmonize till dawn with the dead architect or with you? did frank lloyd wright inspire him to write songs when he ran dry, or was it you?

He's an asshole and I hate him.

"AcTuAlLy I'Ll Do It AlL" fuck off already Paul.

so i was wondering who 50 ways to leave your lover could be about.

according to this 2011 independent article it’s not about peggy harper, who was paul simon’s wife at the time.

and in the 1972 rollingstone interview simon said peggy helped him build up the courage to leave simon&garfunkel and set off on his own, which resonates curiously with what the unnamed woman says to the narrator in the song.

the chorus is interesting too, considering that garfunkel has said that he wasn’t even aware of the simon&garfunkel breakup initially - they parted ways and that was that. simon just left, much like the narrator of the song.

the implication is there is all i’m saying 🤔

[About Art] Is it fair to characterize your relationship of thirty years as complicated as most marriages? (x)

Drama queen as usual uh, Paulie?

for everyone to see, the infamous paul simon phrase about artie.

Oh, yes, the songs, or better yet the whole damn album, about the person he hoped to never see again, of course 🙃🤡

why dont you write me is genuinely the craziest song on botw (with the exception of maybe so long frank lloyd wright). paul really wrote that and was like ok this is awesome and normal to make art sing with me

He never credited Paul for writing Bridge though, uh?

He only literally introduced him as the writer of all the songs they were singing in every goddamn 60s live appearance I've watched/listened to. But he still didn't stress enough that it was Paul that wrote Bridge.

Indeed, a man hears what he wants to hear, and disregards the rest...

Quirky note: Art Garfunkel very frequently introduces himself as “Artie Garfunkel“ or “Arthur Garfunkel” or most eloquently as “Artie Garfunkel - at least alias Artie Garfunkel, now Arthur Garfunkel”.  

Oh yes oh yes oH Y E S

I love this version because of how raw it is. In fact, I love Frank Lloyd Wright from the same live for the same reason, a bit of a raw voice from Artie. I love his angelic tone like anyone else of course, but these performances sound even more powerful and emotional to me because of the rawness.

Side note: I can't believe that upon hearing such wonderful performances of the masterpiece that is Bridge, the only thing that went through Paul's mind was "author, author". I refuse to believe that he was so deaf because of pride, of pain, of whatever it was that made him so resentful.

I've been slightly obsessed (why be normal about anything) with the Simon and Garfunkel song "Bridge Over Troubled Water," specifically the recording from Live at Carnegie Hall 1969. It's so raw and imperfect and beautiful. Art Garfunkel's voice wavering, running low on breath, maybe nearly forgetting the next word, but holding it together and really sticking the landing.

This behind-the-scenes story of that song is also worth watching if you're interested.

No hard feelings, just different worlds my ass.

Why couldn't he stick to this version of the story, instead of getting more and more resentful? Ffs.

Simon says

May 7, 1972

Pop singer Paul Simon talks

about women, psychoanalysis, being short, and life without Art Garfunkel.

BY SANDRA

PAUL SIMON-the pop music Paul

Simon, not the lieutenant governor, is 30, and the last few years have been rough on him. His partnership with Arthur Garfunkel is only a memory; Garfunkel is just a faded photo on the mantle, a relic of the days when there were Beatles and Peter, Paul, and Mary.

Simon is buried In the cozy comfort of an easy chair. He has a cold, and only the blinking of his watery eyes Indicates that he is alive. Coffee cups are scattered on the table and a woman s sweater dangles over a chair. He’s been married a year.

“The whole subject of the man-woman relationship is a big mystery to me,” Simon says nasally. “I question if there is not something basic in the male to make him sadistic, and something in the female to make her masochistic. Remember, there was rape long before capitalism.”

He pauses, reflects: “It is some- thing deep, very, very deep, which we can only ponder and hope to resolve. You know, I was saying the other day how it s funny that you don’t see mass murders of men by women. You never see a woman who goes around and kills five men. Why? I don’t think women would go and kill people. I think that s something crazy in men. You could say it s because women are weaker, but a gun, knife kills anybody.”

Both Simon and his wife are very much into the Women’s Movement. [“We’ve read our Kate Millet,” he says.l Simon insists he s fascinated by woman s potential. “You know,” be says, “it has come out recently that some of the great works credited to men were in fact done by women. John Stuart Mill freely admitted that his wife wrote his essay on Liberty and Freedom in Society. And a lot of art and literature actually has been the work of women. F. Scott Fitz- gerald, we can Infer from Nancy

Milford’s book on ‘Zelda,’ literally plagiarized his wifes diaries, and I’m sure that she won t be the last ripoff. But at least we know about it, are talking about it-we recognize that the problem exists.” Paul muses: “I’d like to see if the nature of a woman, which may be a little more kind and gentle, can produce changes and improvement. For instance, I’d like to see a woman as President,”

As if on cue, Peggy Ann-slim, clad in hippie-spiffy, softly southern [Tennessee] in voice and manner- emerges to care for her husband s cold. He takes his spoon of medicine without flinching. Peg projects a strength and sureness that is absolute, resolute.

Simon’s glance caresses his wife. “Peg has gotten me to face violent instincts which previously I couldn’t imagine letting out,” Paul says. “I thought it was the mark of civilization to keep it all inside. She comes from a whole other culture. When Peg’s angry, she lets it out-and then it’s over.”

The reality of being married-ao working things out-has had its effect on Simon’s music. Lost are his early innocence and belief in perfection. Lost, too, is his original folk sim- ; now he has an electronic, gospel sound. A song like “Congratulations” [written for his pal, Elliott Gould in honor of the actor’s second marriage asks, “Can a man and a woman live together in peace?” Certainly this is a different tune from the one Paul sang in “Dangling Conversation,” where lovers get along like “verses out of rhythm, couplets out of rhyme, in syncopated time” or “For Emily Whenever I May Find Her,” a delectable dream vision with soft rain, cathedral bells, and frosted fields.

Simon mentions his former side-kick, Art Garfunkel, and says firmly,”I won’t take another partner.” Garfunkel now teaches mathematics to high school students in Connecticut and moonlights as a movie star for director Mike Nichols. The pair seldom see one another anymore. “No hard feelings, just different worlds”, Paul explains. Arthur and Paul had been pals since boyhood. Simon still seems troubled about his split with Garfunkel, as seen in a new song, “Me and Julie Down by the School- yard.” The song reveals an antipathy toward the opposite sex for breaking up the old gang.

Simon denies any suggestion of homosexuality in the song. He and Garfunkel once were listed in a homosexual handbook. “I was very insulted by that,” he says flatly. He wants the world to know how happy he is, how much he loves his wife. Injustice is even harder for sensitive minstrel to reconcile when he lives in an elegant apartment. 

Psychoanalysis has helped him to cope, he says. “In the beginning I would sit in the dark all the time writing songs which-I thought-came out of gut suffering. Embarrassment used to be my main emotion. I remember that I was embarrassed by what I said, what I did, how I looked, who I was. As I think back, that pain was not real pain. It was not the grief of someone who has felt real sorrow. It was imaginary, contrived, a student s fantasy, not the pain of poverty, war, or even the tremendous emotional pain that people endure dally.”

Simon’s latest songs show sympathy for the little guy: the rebel, the genius, the loner, the down-and-out [“Illusion dwellers”], and his Papa Hobo figures from rustic Americana. Paul admits his sympathy but ex- plains it from distinctly personal motives. “These songs, in effect, cloak my anxiety about being short.” He confesses: “Bet you ‘ve never seen a little guy the hero in a movie. If he’s short, he’s always the clown, the comic relief. I see it all the time. The funny thing is that I never wrote a song about being short, because I thought people would laugh. And I still believe they will laugh. So I tend to make my people out to be the little guy as opposed to the short guy.” Paul documents his case. “Recently, Time Magazine reported that the tallest men-not the brightest -in a graduating class at a college in Illinois were offered the best starting salaries by big business.” A look of consternation marks his face. ‘Tlbe whole white male myth makes it imperative that the hero, the winner, be the Great Dane [‘Unhand me, you big brute’]. That’s why I’m right there with the feminists, because I think the whole thing is debasing.

“It’s so hard to make it in the world, when you want it to be fair and it isn’t. It’s all a mixture. You get it for being a Jew and you get it for being black or white. You get it for being a woman and you get it because you live in a capitalist society, which feeds off other societies, so you can be wealthy. We all walk on both sides. We are all part of this mixed-up sense of injustice that there is in the world.”

Injustice is even harder for a sensitive minstrel to reconcile when he lives in an elegant duplex apartment, overlooking Manhattan’s Central Park, a pad formerly occupied by guitarist Andre Segovia. At least now Simon plays the role of rebel. Simon fans recognize the change between his isolation in “Sounds of Silence” [“Hello darkness, my old friend”] and the pseudo-alienation of the recent “Papa Hobo.”

The same Simon who was at first ignored by the folk vanguard because he was too “weird,” now has become a classic, a standard. Record sales are up there with Mancini and Sina- tra. Every Simon album is gold [there have been seven], and last year “Bridge Over Troubled Water” won the top . Simon’s made million-dollar singles with “Sounds of Silence,” “Mrs. Robinson,” “Bridge,” and “Cecilia.” Currently “Mother and Child Reunion” [from his first solo album} promises to be another golden great.

Back in 1955 when be was a teen- ager growing up in a middle-class environment, Paul despaired of achieving his ambition to be a pop singer. Elvis Presley was supreme and everything about him was alien to Paul Simon. But Paul wrote music, and the times changed, and what was out came in. His musical flexibility may well keep him in.

Paul leans against the coffee table. “You see this game here?” he asks, pointing to a tilt board with holes and a small metal ball. “Do you know rm the best in the world at this game? It’s the only thing in the world that I’m best at.” One senses Paul would prefer to be known as the tilt- board champ. It would simplify his life. Instead, he laments: “What do you do, how do you behave when you walk in the street and fans want auto- graphs or you buy a car and the salesman is obsequious? You know, my most bizarre fantasies became possibilities, everyday realities. Whatever happened to be my special trip was readily available. It was all too much.”

The past comes rushing back to him. “My insecurities made me un- comfortable with the drug scene. I like to get high, but it made me crazy. So I stopped. I had to stop. I can remember is a bunch of people running around. They were confused. I was confused. They didn’t know who they were. I didn’t know who I was, and we were all acting out some kind of role. And everything was weird and changing so fast. The ’60s-wow, what a decade!”