1/4/09

Lyrics

Doing the one word progression yesterday with dearest H had me remembering today when I was younger and set about my first foray into word play.

I’ve always been drawn to words and in awe of people who can use them to tell stories, or express emotion in some profound way. My first real awareness of words came through song I think. Some of my earliest, and best, memories are of sitting in the back of my parents’ car listening to music on whatever road trip we happened to be on at any given time. The Beatles, The Who, Dire Straits, David Bowie, The Rolling Stones and Creedence Clearwater Revival were the ones I looked forward to most.

As I got a bit older I used to fall asleep every night listening to the small radio my parents had given me one Christmas. When I was in elementary school and fully immersed in my first real crush, I knew that there were things I wanted to say to this boy and had no idea where to begin. As I lay, balancing on the edge of sleep, one night listening to the Top 40 Countdown, an idea struck me.

The next day I sat with paper and pen and my radio listening for the words that were being crooned so effortlessly by bands and singers that I could not put together myself. What I ended up with was a love letter comprised of lyrics from my favorite songs. I signed my name to the end and gave it to the boy sheepishly.

He didn’t really get it of course. Who would at the ripe age of 9 or 10? I just remember feeling like I had finally figured out a way to convey my feelings to this boy who made my heart race. It didn’t really matter if they were borrowed or stolen words or lines. I had constructed them in such a way that delivered a potent message of early adoration.

I still look to my favorite songs to detail my emotion when I am without the perfect sentiment. It’s an amazing thing to hear someone else sing your love, or heartbreak, anger or joy.

1 comment:

Helskel said...

I think this new project of yours is taking shape wonderfully.

nothing like the crisp parameters of a number, the unalterable borders of a page, to hone the thought