Monday, February 27, 2006

The best f'n car EVER!

So, my freshman year of high school, my dad went out and bought a 1978 Delta 88 to use as his "get around town" car. The thing was a tank. Had a vinyl roof, plush seats, and a trunk that could fit two bodies, at least. Problem was, the car leaked. When it rained, you had to place paper down on the seat to make sure your ass didn't get wet (especially on the way to school every day). It was even more difficult to stay dry in the winter because, growing up in Cleveland, it snowed 5-6 months out of the year. And, if you had a father like mine, clearing the snow off of the car was done using the windshield wipers...nothing else. So, the back window rarely got cleaned, and he drove the car around town with three to four inches of snow on the roof. Snow that melted and leaked into the car.

When it came time to get my driver's license, do you think my dad went out of his way to help me with my exam by borrowing someone else's smaller, compact car (like he did with my sister two years later)? Hell no. I took my driver's test in the Delta 88, and barely passed. But I did pass, and within days, I was behind the wheel of that boat. This was the winter of '85-86.

That Spring, I decided to figure out why the roof leaked and I tore off all of the vinyl. There were huge holes in the metal where it had rusted out and, having grown up observing my brother work magic with bondo on the Ford Torino we used to own, I decided to give it a try. Man, was it ugly. The next logical step was to paint it, but Dad wasn't going to spend money on repainting an old junker, so I jokingly suggested painting a flag on the roof (visions of the General Lee were dancing in my head). He wouldn't have it. "I worked in Georgia during the 60's" he said. That's all he would say when refusing my request for the Confederate flag. I was bummed for about 10 seconds because I immediately proposed the Union Jack and he said, "Sure."

Over the course of two weeks, I painted that flag on the roof and the two of us drove the thing around town. I believe he got a thrill from showboating around town in a crazy looking car. I thought I was cool. It was my friend, Sally, who christened it "The Whomobile" some months later, so I painted that moniker on the front lip of the hood. That Summer, while I was still employed at Taco Bell, I came out to the car one night after work and someone had put a note on it. "Who the fuck are you?" A real fan, I'm sure. My finally stroke was painting that question (minus the profanity) on the trunk so that every car behind me could ask the same question of themselves.

I loved that car. Everybody loved that car. You could easily sit six or seven people in it. You could have a damn party in it. One of my favorite moments of my youth happened in the Summer of '87 after school had let out. Steve and I were driving the valley, listening to Tom Petty in anticipation to a huge party that night and the beginning Summer before us. As "Don't Come Around Here No More" began its crescendo to the climaxof the song, the two of us pounded on the dash board, beating the hell out of the cracking vinyl. It seemed like the old beast could take it. It enjoyed it. We were giving it more love than its previous owner had, that's for sure.

That car lasted until just before Thanksgiving '87. In an intersection at Lorain Road, it began to stall out, like Puff the Dragon breathing his last breathe. I was able to veer it off the road and into the lot of an Auto parts store (King's Auto Parts, as I recall... or Crown Auto Parts). When Dad came to pick me up and have the Whomobile hauled to a gas station, it was the last time I saw it. The shop called and the amount to repair it was not worth it. My parents decided it was time to buy another van (UGH!). The Whomobile was no more.

I never had any photos of that car. For all the time I spent in it, I never thought of recording it on film. It was going to last forever, wasn't it? However, during my senior year, the boys cross country team piled on to the car for an impromptu team picture. I guess my friend Phil's camera was used and he's had that picture ever since. He sent me a copy of that picture today and I just had to post it. Has there ever been a better picture of the joy of youth? Look at these kids. No worries (so it seems). The future is bright. We're young. We're carefree.

What happened to those kids?


Friday, February 24, 2006


From: Scott
Date: Fri, 24 Feb 2006
To: Steve

Okay, I'm a couple days late, but cut me some slack, I have killer clones to write about, which, for some reason, ties in with this week's selection.

If there is one band that has been denied entry to the Hall of Fame for too long and truly deserves to be there, it is Black Sabbath. Am I fan? Not really. Honestly, I know 2, maybe 3 of their songs. Some musicologist I am, huh?

To me, Sabbath will always be one of those bands whose name was written in black marker on the jeans jackets of countless burn outs at our school You remember those kids, the ones who stood one foot off of school grounds to smoke their cigarettes in the dead of winter (wearing only those same jeans jackets, mind you). Now, I'm sure most of those kids are managing large companies and making decent livings while I toil away at being an "artist".

Despite my limited knowledge about Sabbath, I do know that the original line up came to fame in the early 70's with members Ozzy Osborne (who?), the great Tony Iommi on guitar (he plays with a disfigured hand, mind you), Bill Ward on drums and (one of my favorite rock names of all time) Geezer Butler on bass. Their music was derived from the blues, but their lyrical subject matter was DARK, dude. And the darkness of their lyrics seemed to seep into the heaviness of their music.

When Cream were inducted into the Hall of Fame, Clapton claimed that they (Cream) had invented heavy metal. Uh, I don't think so, Slowhand. Cream and Zeppelin created the blueprint, but heavy metal... Real heavy metal, that we associate with countless bands like Iron Maiden, Dio, Judas Priest and Slayer, was born on the Sabbath. And that, my friend, is why this band is so deserving of their induction.

The influence they had on these bands, and therefore on the lives of so many teenagers is what rock music is about. True, the Hall of Fame should be about the artistic importance of the music, but you HAVE to include the commercial side as well.

Finally, think of the thousands of garage bands out there who strap on guitars and immediately play one of two riffs. The first, sadly, is the "Nuh nuh nuh...nuh nuh nuhnuh" of "Smoke on the Water". The other...

"Nuh Nuh nuhnuh nuh, nuhnuhnuhnuhnuhnuh nuh nuh nuh!"

I... AM... IRON... MAN!

Should be interesting to see if Ozzy can manage a coherent sentence when they're inducted.


From: Steve
Date: Fri, 24 Feb 2006
To: Scott

I'm racing around today, so not much time to respond, but I totally agree with everything .

My favorite Black Sabbath moment: December 1984, N O H.S. v. Olmsted Falls home basketball game. Todd Trefz somehow figures out how to access the P.A. system and pipes Side 1 of the classic Sabbath album, starting with "Ironman" over the loudspeakers during JV warmups -- then refuses to tell Dom Pannito, the coach, how to turn it off. (This is one of three Todd Trefz memories. The other two include a ride in his grandmother's "three on the tree" Dodge Rambler in Winter 1985-86, and his drawing a technical foul for a completely idiotic smack of the backboard at Falls in January 1986.)

This was the start of a Sabbath binge for that JV team, which went 18-2 that year. Sabbath on the bus blasting from a cheap Panasonic boom box, Sabbath in the locker room after games before the wet-haired emergence at halftime of the varsity game.

Bonus question: What was song 3 on Side 1 of that album?

Date: Fri, 24 Feb 2006
To: Steve

I could pretend to actually know the answer to your question, but I was knee deep in Yes madness at that point in my life. So, I will give the answer (as found on Amazon).

“Planet Caravan”

Dom Pannito... I’m cracking up.

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

Brokeback Mountain mini review

Back again. I've been overdoing it with this script I'm writing and haven't found the time to write on the blog. A drag, I know.

Had a chance to watch "Brokeback Mountain" the other night and it was a wonderful movie. Heath Ledger is a revelation in his role. The rest of the cast is also outstanding, but is really Ledger that shows something I have never seen in any of his previous performances. I think this is my second favorite Ang Lee film, behind "Sense and Sensibility".

As I watched the movie, I was unprepared to get sucked into it emotionally like I did. I had read the short story last year and that really stuck with me. But this film has really kept me thinking since I watched the credits.

What I really came away from it thinking, though, is how I wish I could have been the first person to read the story, or to be the first person, unaware, to see the movie. What a marvelous experience that must have been for those unsuspecting people. With so much press given to the basic plot of the movie (and that's what they focus on... the BASIC plot, not the emotional depth or the fine craftsmanship... it's called that "gay cowboy movie") it is close to impossible to not know what the movie is about when you sit down to watch it.

Over the holiday, I caught some of Ernst Lubitsch's "Heaven Can Wait". Thinking it had something to do with the Warren Beatty remake, I started watching it and soon I was putting off my chores and glued to the television. It will be interesting to hear/see what people fifty or so years from now think of "Brokeback Mountain." If that future generation is anything like the current one, those people will have forgotten about it. Will they think it quaint. Antiquated (like some people think of Demme's "Philadelphia" now a days)? I had no idea what "Heaven Can Wait" was about, but a good movie is a good movie.

Hopefully, some Sunday afternoon in the future, some 30 something year old film guy will flip on a classic movie channel and that guy will get drawn into the beautiful film experience that is "Brokeback Mountain."

Friday, February 17, 2006

I haven't posted on this site in some time. My knee problems have prevented me from running any more and I have decided to give up the marathons. What will I do next? Not sure. Right now I'm waist deep in a couple of writing projects that seem to be sucking up any spare time I have.

I have decided to keep a new blog for a year. It's a little experiment in trying to document my year.

That web address

Thanks for checking in.


Thursday, February 16, 2006

The Break Up Trailer

One last thing.

My buddy Geoff is featured in the new Jennifer Anniston/Vince Vaughn movie that opens this summer. Geoff starred in "King's Highway", and he's highlighted in the trailer. Here is a link to it:

WHMP RRHOF Edition #1

From: Scott
Date: Thu, 16 Feb 2006
To: Steve


So, I thought I'd take the next four weeks to highlight the four rock' roll artists being inducted to the Rock Hall this year. You know I am a big fan of the Hall of Fame, though I don't always agree with their selections (ZZ Top? Bob Seger? Really?) or with their omissions (The Stooges, Patti Smith, Gram Parsons, Chic... To name a few).

This year's class should prove to be one of the most interesting, what with spacey NY punkers (Blondie); Bloated southern boys (Skynyrd); brain dead headbangers (Sabbath) and a group whose whole purpose was to be a spit in the mainstream (the Pistols).

(Miles Davis is being inducted...HUH? And so are the Herb Albert and Jerry Moss, the guys who created A&M Records...thanks for Joe Jackson, guys-- but I'm not going to feature them).

Anyway, with such an eclectic group. This is the first year in many in which VH1 must be seating. Who is really going to watch this year's inductees? Not many. Kudos to the Rock Hall for not giving a damn and actually recognizing groups that have been overlooked for years.

Today's selection comes from Blondie. I've always felt that Blondie were an important band for pop cultural reasons alone. They introduced rap to middle class white America with their "Rapture" single. That song alone has enough significance to make them worthy of induction. But Blondie was something else. They were born in the NY punk movement and evolved into a disco/pop/new wave group that dominated the charts for several years.

On top of that, Debbie Harry was one of the few women rockers in the male dominated world of music at the time (which makes the exclusion of influential Patti Smith all the more ridiculous). She was more than a mere "face" for the group. Harry cowrote many of the songs and brought a certain attitude mixed with sexiness that made Blondie feel both fun and edgy.

Let's not forget the rest of the band, though. Guitarist Chris Stein penned or co-penned almost all of the group's major hits. And he is often credited with shaping the sound of the band. And being a drummer, I always appreciated Clem Burke, a, for his adaptability and power pop drumming, and b- for having a cool ass name. The band was rounded out by keyboardist, James Destri and bassist Frank Infante (who later sued his band mates).

I've always dug this song, Hanging on the Telephone." It's a driving little pop gem that was a killer tune even before some cell phone company began using it in their ads. I hope you dig it.

Next week... The dark prince and his minions invade WHMP.


Note from SM

Sorry I haven't been keeping up with the blog. It's been a busy couple of weeks and I've had a lot of thinking to do about the blog and what it's supposed to represent. I also have been working on several projects at once and the blog kind of falls by the wayside. That said, I'm going to do my best to set aside some time at lunch every day to just post some thoughts and keep this updated.

In the mean time, here is the next email I sent to my buddy Steve.


Thursday, February 09, 2006

WHMP Grammy edition

To: Steve
Date: Thu, 09 Feb 2006
From: Scott


I waited all day for the user on my floor who had the John Legend album on his iTunes to get on the server just so I could send you this week's song.

Dude, I hear this a couple of months ago and I really dug the entire album. But I saw John Legend perform last night on the Grammys and was not only impressed, but inspired. It's one of just two performances at that awards show that actually moved me (and caused me to rewind my TiVo to watch the performance again).

What I find so wonderful about this song is its take on love... A mature love between a couple that they have grown into. It's not about infatuation, it's not about that "I just got married and I'm on top of the world" love. It's abou7t the "we've had our troubles and worked through them and you're still the love of my life and the one and ONLY person I want to spend the rest of my life with" love.

Nothing more inspiring about that, huh? In particularly in today's "get married fast; get divorced faster" (oh, I'm sorry, annulment) society, to hear a young (er) artist sing about commitment is refreshing. I hope you dig it.

Oh, and he was so exceptional perfuming the song... Flawless... That I downloaded the entire album to have for myself.

Without further adieu, John Legend's extraordinary "Ordinary People."


PS- Yes, the only other performer to move me (to tears) was Springsteen. He's the only performer that was able to silence the entire crowd with just his guitar, voice and harmonica. It was another impassioned performance by the Boss that made me really think about the kids overseas who are dying for an unjustified war. When he said "Bring 'em home" and walked off to applause, Springsteen proved, yet again, that he's the Boss in more ways than one.

Saturday, February 04, 2006

A quick post before I call it a night. Got through most of the day without any disruptions. But the weight of Matt's death was suddenly upon me as the day came to an end. Thought I was handling it. The worse part is that I projected some of this anxiety out to the family and every little thing I did that was wrong only grew in size. I forgot Jake's enzymes and didn't realize it until we were in the Target parking lot. Instead of trying to laugh it off, I got so damn pissed at myself. Why can't I remember? God bless Sophie who tries to make me feel better. And I know I was wearing the Budd, Sr. face the whole time. This isn't who I want my kids to think I am. This isn't the kind of man I want to be.

Is there something more going on here? Is this whole anniversary just a reason for me to be sad? What am I missing?

I'm looking forward to tomorrow.


Thursday, February 02, 2006

The Gulf that grew between us

As I was putting Jake down to bed tonight, I couldn’t close my eyes, which is unusual. I typically fall asleep with him and wake up an hour later, or when Julie gets home from work. But tonight, I just lay there, staring into the darkness, my eyes slowly adjusting. Tomorrow marks the one year anniversary of Matt’s death and all I can think about is the last time we spoke and the gulf that formed between us in the two years between that phone call and his passing.

The last time I saw Matt was Labor Day, 2001. We were home in Cleveland visiting because we weren’t going to be flying back for Christmas that year (as Jake was due in the winter). He came over to the Flynn’s and reeked of alcohol. This put almost everyone off, even though he was in very good spirits (and with Matt and alcohol, it was hit or miss). After that night, we spoke again about him coming out to visit and whether he would be moving out west again. Before we knew it, the night was over and he was gone.

After we found out about Jake’s illness, Matt happened to call and I gave him the news. He sounded devastated. It was similar to how he acted when my dad had his open-heart surgery. I’m not sure he knew what to say. It was December and he was still living in Ohio (after moving back). He once again talked about moving west, possibly stopping by to visit on his way to Seattle. That was the last I heard from him until November.

On my birthday, 2001, Matt called to wish me a happy birthday. He was good at remembering dates like that. I’m sure he thought of me on November 1st all the time. I know that when August 9th always rolls around he is on my mind. I was surprised to learn that he’d moved to Seattle… in May. And this threw me off some because I thought he would have informed me that he was moving. But this was typical of our relationship by this point. We barely informed each other of anything. That’s not to say that I didn’t think of him constantly, it’s just that whenever I would think to call him, something would distract me and I never would.

We chit chatted about stupid shit for a while. I’m sure I promised to send him a copy of “King’s Highway” (but I never did). That is something I’m bummed that he never saw. So much of that movie dealt with my feelings for him. And for some reason, what I wanted to say to Matt came out in the movie, but never from my own mouth. But I was so sure that “King’s Highway” would get into some festival, especially Seattle, which I wanted to surprise him and just show up on his doorstep to take him to the theater. Never happened.

We hung up that night with Matt giving me his phone number and me promising to call once a month. I, of course, did not. It was my pride. I was ticked off that he hadn’t even sent me a letter in the many months that had passed between him moving and that phone call. I thought we were closer than that. This was just the way Matt acted. He didn’t think I would be upset. And since there is a whole scene in the movie that deals with just this sort of misunderstanding, I should have known better. As weeks passed, I let that piece of paper slip away and the number was lost. Months passed and I would think about calling his parents to get the number, but I never did. Dumb ass.

The following year, I decided to run my first marathon and this is when the bigger misunderstanding occurred. As typical in large fundraisers, I sent out a form letter to family and friends asking for donations, including Matt. I never heard from him.

I’ve never really spoken about this or written about what happened, but in order to have a proper wake, I need to get this out.

Now, we had sent Christmas cards every year and never got anything back. That didn’t bother me. But to not hear back from him when I was trying to raise money to find a cure for my son, I gut pissed off. What I later found out is that Matt felt slighted that I didn’t send a personally letter asking him for a donation and updating him about Jake’s status. And so, he got pissed at me.

Like I said. Ego. Pride. Stupid shit.

In December of 2004, after a second year of hearing nothing back from Matt and having sent more letters and cards, I decided to call his mom to see if maybe he had moved and he hadn’t received the mail. This was awkward because I hadn’t spoken to his folks since we’d moved to California. I have no excuse. It was lousy of me not to at least call and say hello every time we were in Cleveland… or even to stop by when Matt had moved back. I wish I could go back and change my actions, but you can’t. I can only learn from them.

When I called Matt’s mom, she told me that he was still living in the same place. My heart was broken. Why hadn’t he called? What had I done? How had we grown so far apart? And yet, I was also pissed off because if something was bothering him he SHOULD have called. We could have talked it over. Little did I know that he struggled with the decision to call me many times, asking his brother what he should do.

I will regret for the rest of my days that I never called him. Even to leave a message or to say something awkward would have been better than nothing at all. I’m not saying that us speaking would have saved him. Hardly. But I just wish I could have known where he was at in life. I wish I could have heard his voice one more time. Even as I sit here writing, I can here that smooth baritone voice that he had. How it would raise when he got excited, or how it could be really mellow when he was thinking. I can see us sitting together, him with his guitar, strumming, then putting it down and saying, “Well, what do you want to do?”

When Matt’s brother told me everything that Matt had been feeling before he died, I was very upset. You don’t know how it feels to have anger at someone and nowhere to direct it. What could I do, yell at the sky? At the car door while I was driving? But I am glad he did tell me. If anything, it let’s me know that he still cared enough to be mad. He still cared enough to want to call. If only he could get past his pride. In the year that has passed, I have come to terms with Matt’s passing, including one drunken night when Jules and the kids were out of town (and for anyone I called that night, I apologize again). If it took me seven months to come to grips with my oldest friend’s death, I can only imagine what his mom, dad and brother have been going through. And I understand better what my sister in law Karyn must be going through after the loss of her mother. Death isn’t like a stubbed toe. It doesn’t hurt for a week and slowly disappear. It stays with you, eats at you, changes you and makes you older in ways you don’t want to be.

It’s strange, as the hours get closer to tomorrow and I know what February 3rd represents, my heart grows heavier.

I miss him, now more than ever.

Follow up from Steve

From: Steve
Date: Thu, 2 Feb 2006 14:39:05 -0500
To: Scott


As always, this is gem of a message. Matt was very fortunate in his friendships.

I can't match the tone of this message, but the air guitar scene reminded me of something I saw not long ago. It's attached.

Thanks again for the tune. I love it.


From: Scott
Date: Thu, 02 Feb 2006
To: Steve

This picture is freakin' awesome. Thanks.

From: Steve
Date: Thu, 2 Feb 2006
To: Scott

I thought you'd like it. Feel free to send to Budd and Dave Lamb. I bet they'd get a kick out of it, too.

Date: Thu, 02 Feb 2006
To: Steve

Yeah, I bet they will.

You know, I took your advice and Googled myself the other day... Then I Googled you. Nice picture on the company website, Steve. So professional looking.

From: Steve
Date: Thu, 2 Feb 2006
To: Scott

OK, that's just mean. But:

A buddy Googled me about a year ago and somehow found some cross country results from 1986. It took me two hours to get him to stop needling me about being as slow as the girls.

So you're not as far down the list as he is.

Isn't it cool that you have 2 pages of hits?

From: Scott
Date: Thu, 02 Feb 2006
To: Steve

Yes, it was cool to see all of the attention being paid to American Standard. I may get to see a rough cut in a couple of weeks, I'm not sure.

As for those Cross Country results... I was, like, always one of the last people to finish. I think Matt was actually a little slower than me. Then again, we didn't go out for CC for the athleticism. It was purely social.

Somewhere out there, someone has a pic from my senior year when the whole team piled in and on the Whomobile. I wish I had it. Maybe Phil has it. Not sure.

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

Special MB hump day

From: Scott
Date: Wed, 01 Feb 2006
To: Steve

Hey Steve,

I've been reflecting on Matt all this week. I've found it to be very healthy, trying to remember who he was and what he was capable of as a good man, friend, and brother. Is it strange to be going through this type of looking back a year after he passed away? I don't think I'll do it again next year. In fact, I'll try to recall his birthday from now on and have a toast to him then.

Like I said, I spoke with Elliott last Saturday and it was just a nice, good conversation. A lot of reminiscing and, surprisingly, a lot of laughter. I believe Matt would have liked us to remember him for being able to make us laugh. Despite his air of superiority and the way he could make you feel small, he was also full of a lot of warmth and humor.

For this week's song. I wanted to pick something that reminded me of him. I could have been obvious and chosen Dylan or Tom Waits. I avoided his latter day loves like Nick Cave because I am not familiar enough with the music and , to be honest, his love of this music wasn't when I was a big part of his life anymore.

Matt and I explored a lot of music together. Our mutual love of Journey nearly got us to the "Escape" concert in 6th grade (with Forest School secretary Mrs. Vincent!) and when the two of us finally saw the band, it was Matt's mom who took us to the show at the Richfield Coliseums. How about that? In fact, Matt's folks also took us to the Huey Lewis & the News show at Blossum a couple years later. The two of us rocked out. Hey, Huey was big back then!

We took in Genesis and Matt sat there with his arms folded the whole time. I believe this was an early sign of his antiestablishment... Or just his disgust with the crass commercialism of Phil Collins and co.

In addition to the concerts we saw, we both influenced each other in our tastes. For some unknown reason, he bought the god-awful 3rd Asia album after my suggestion. I will always feel bad about that one. And, yes, I borrowed "Tunnel of Love" from him in late '87, a move that changed my life.

One of the most memorable music related moment we had together was also a film related one. The two of us discovered "This Is Spinal Tap" and watched the video long before it became a cult sensation. Matt bought the album and we never tired listening to "Gimme Some Money" and "Big Bottoms."

Finally, there is one memory I will treasure. It came in Spring of '87 when "The Joshua Tree" was released. He was so high on U2 then and I was just getting into them. One school night, he was over, my folks were out and "Where the Streets Have No Name" was playing over that old stereo console my parents had in the living room. Remember that thing? It must have weighted 300 pounds. Anyway, as the song played, Matt and I began playing air guitar and moving side to side, like really bad rock bands do (say... BTO). It was such a sweet moment, though. As we were on the cusp of adulthood, here we were, acting like giddy little kids. It was the kind of moment that could only happen between two people who knew each other so well.

Later that year we saw U2 at the old Cleveland Stadium. I have no memories of the show. That time in the living has a more lasting impression than the biggest band in the world. Funny how that works.

When Matt died, I was drawn to U2's new album. There was a song on the previous one, "All That You Can't Leave Behind" entitled "Kits" which helped me get through my acceptance that I wouldn't be able to "save" him after he'd moved back to Ohio. I first listened to that song, but the lyrics were meaningless to me now because Matt was dead. Then I heard this song, "Miracle Drug," from "How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb" and I was sucked in. \The lyrics spoke to me on a couple of levels and it helped me begin the healing process.

I want to trip inside your head
Spend the day there
To hear the things you haven't said
And see what you might see

I want to hear you when you call
Do you feel anything at all
I want to see your thoughts take shape
And walk right out

Freedom has a scent
Like the top of a new born baby's head

The songs are in your eyes
I see them when you smile
I've seen enough, I'm not giving up
On a miracle drug

Of science and the human heart
There is no limit
There is no failure here sweetheart
Just when you quit

I am you and you are mine
Love makes nonsense of space
And time will disappear
Love and logic keep us clear
Reason is on our side, love

The songs are in your eyes
I see them when you smile
I've had enough of romantic love
I'd give it up, yeah, I'd give it up
For a miracle drug, a miracle drug
A miracle drug

Oh God, I need your help tonight

Beneath the noise
Below the din
I hear a voice
It's whispering
In science and in medicine
I was a stranger
You took me in

The songs are in your eyes
I see them when you smile
I've had enough of romantic love
I'd give it up, yeah, I'd give it up
For a miracle drug, for a miracle drug

Miracle, miracle drug

I miss him, a lot. At times, I try to fool myself into thinking that it's just as if he's still living in Seattle and we're just not talking right now. Then I catch myself and realize that I'll never talk to him again... At least, not in this world.