Kelly green SDRE wristbands for hire...

On the hazy drive home this evening, I came across an old friend. And I feel like taking this time to fill you in on said friend.

Circa 1994, May timeframe. "Diary" by Sunny Day Real Estate. If you own it, you know. If you don't, there's still time.

It opened up more than a mind. It ushered in something terribly special for me. To this day, I still can't explain it. I've tried. Some care because they were there... Others just pretend to care... Some even listen with intent. Some listen because it could be more interesting than the last "Friends" rerun on TBS. I don't mind. Well, sometimes, I do...

In 1997, I was looking for answers... For inspiration. For what exactly, I'm not entirely sure, but I could name a few... So, I pieced together some of my favorite lyrics from the eleven songs that made up "Diary." Lyrics, lines that lasted... In the running order of the songs, from #1 to #11. I kept them with me as they happened to tell a story, a story that would live inside my head for years to come. They just seemed to fit... It just happened that way. My mission in doing this was to, over time, take random samples from eleven sentences from assorted pieces that I had worked on over the years and combine them to (hopefully) tell a different story all together. Kind of like an exercise to myself to be a bit more creative with eleven passages that would never see the light of day anyway. To give them a better life. My words hold little water compared to what Jeremy Enigk did with "Diary," but my non-long player, "Rooftops to Duane St." had its moments. Not really.

Here are the first 11 from which I pieced together from the lyric sheet in 1997:

"...and brave songs disappear to the secret. where words are not and feeling remains. an image of your face traced in white sand. my clothes were damp. caught a glimpse of truth. my breathing is leaving after yours. see how they run. buried in me lies a child's toy. help unchain this memory. the rain was there to wash away my tears. no words to explain." - Diary, 1994

And here are my 11 lines that were taken from my own little diary:

"words on the page fading in and out of her lips. unsettled, but content with the brief moment of clarity. his bible dreams clustered under the pillow. the sea of tranquility is flooding their sky with light. hope humming from the chapel around the corner. her gown was just long enough to hide her secrets. behind the melodic mask of wine. false gestures from guests, unwelcome. truth coming from courage born out of fear. everything, every piece glued together with tears and dollar bills. the parade procession pointed them to the other road, headlamps on..." - Rooftops to Duane St., 1997, 1998, 2006

So there you have it... Maybe there is something there, maybe not. Nothing major, nothing riveting, just something from me to you as we are heading towards another weekend. Incidentally, the last line in my eleven was written on the back of a fax cover sheet. A short interlude of a short, short story about a couple of brothers and an October carnival... I was at my desk at work and I wanted to finish what I had started so many years ago. Seemed like the right thing to do... You see, "Rooftops to Duane St." was only comprised of 10 pieces of whatever... I always needed an eleventh... Odd as I wrote it out staring at Fresca citrus soft drink. I've never had the pleasure... I'm missing out on something special, I think... Come to think of it, I still don't know what a bowl of Wheaties tastes like...

So long for now.