Interpretive blogging?

In honor of Duran Duran Appreciation Day today -- no, seriously, it's an actual day -- I have decided to finally do something I've had in mind to do for a long time.  Start my own band?  No, but now that you mention it...  Profess my love for Simon Le Bon?  Surely I must have already done that somewhere along the way.  Do a Duran Duran: Where Are They Now post?  Sadly, no.  (By the way, those were all really good guesses!  I'm impressed.)

Some time ago I had the idea for a new blog feature where I would give my interpretation of the lyrics to a popular song.  The idea was born one day when I started thinking about the number of songs I liked, but had not the faintest idea what they were talking about.  It would be called -- wait for it -- Song Interp Sunday.

Of course, today being Friday, it kind of loses a little zing.  But I felt it more important to observe Duran Duran Appreciation Day than to post something on Sunday that has "Sunday" in its title. Apparently.

Because I, for one, appreciate Duran Duran.  How much?  Let's put it this way, if blogs had been around in 1985, my blog name probably would have been Bone Bone.  Also, Arena was my first cassette.  (I wanted that or Word Up, and I guess Mom was preferential to the band whose members were not wearing codpieces.) 

And that's pretty much the extent of my appreciation.  Well, besides this post.  I mean, I'm tearing myself away from SongPop and Google Kayaking for this!

Now for the first time in the history of the blogosphere -- and let's be honest, there's a decent shot it's for the very last time, as well -- I proudly present Song Interp Sunday.  On Friday.  Only here, my friends.  Only here.

Today I attempt to interpret the song "Wild Boys," by the aforementioned Duran Duran.

"The wild boys are calling, on their way back from the fire"

First lines are so very important.  Here, we can deduce the so-called Wild Boys are either fire fighters, or perhaps, arsonists.  Also note they are "calling."  From a cell phone?  Fairly advanced for 1985, I would say.  So they must be top secret government agents.  Or Zack Morris.

"An August moon surrender to a dust cloud on the rise."

It's summer.  And night.  Or is it?  It has been my experience the moon sometimes comes out during the day.  But the sun never comes out at night.  Weird how that happens.  Also, the subject-verb disagreement really bugs me.  Like I want so bad to correct it.  Just.  Have.  To.  Move.  On.

"Wild boys fallen far from glory, reckless and so hungered on the razors that you trail."

Hungered on the razors?  Double-you-tee-eff!  So they haven't eaten in awhile, are not the greatest drivers in the world, and someone is just tossing out Gillettes like they're candy?!?!  Do those happen to be Mach 3's?

"Because there's murder by the roadside, in a sore afraid new world."

Fire.  Murder.  Perhaps this is a musical take on Fahrenheit 451!  Yes!  I think that's it!

"They tried to break us. Looks like they'll try again."

I don't know who "they"" are, but apparently they're quite persistent.

"Wild boys never lose it.  Wild boys never chose this way."

What is "it?"  Who are "they?"  I'm so confused!  Don't lose faith, Bone.  This will probably be like Sixth Sense and I'll get to the end and realize Bruce Willis was alive the whole time.

"Wild boys never close your eyes.  Wild boys always shine."

Is this first sentence a command, advice, or a symptom of insomnia?  Always shine?  What does that mean?  Is there radioactive material involved?  I'm starting to think Duran Duran is working on a whole other level here.  I mean, Hungry Like The Wolf?  Would it have been the same if, say, the title had been Hungry Like A Water Moccasin?  I think not.  And what if The Reflex had instead been called The Response To Stimuli?  Let's face it, these guys were geniuses. 

"You got sirens for a welcome.  There's bloodstain for your pain."

Second verse starts with another apparent fire fighter or Fahrenheit 451 reference.

"And your telephone been ringing while you're dancing in the rain."

It's the fire department calling!  Run, Montag!  Run to Farber's house!  He'll know what to do.  But watch out for the mechanical dog!

"Wild boys wonder where is glory?  Where is all you angels?"

I have this exact thought near the end of every 10K I've ever run, just as I'm on the verge of retching.  Except replace "glory" with "water."

"Now the figureheads have fell.  And lovers war with arrows over secrets they could tell."

Does this have anything to do with Cupid?

"They tried to tame you.  Looks like they'll try again."

Again with the persistence.  I gotta be honest, Wild Boys, I would have given up long before now.  Kudos to you.

And there you have it!  Blog history has been made.  Obviously, this song is a musical account of a literary classic with undertones of a bit of a murky (and quite violent) love story.  That, or a heavily veiled tribute to Bruce Willis and Zack Morris.

Either way, I feel all but confident in saying each of us now have a clearer understanding of this somewhat ambiguous but catchy tune, which peaked at #2 on Casey's Top 40 in 1984.  I hope you have a meaningful Duran Duran Appreciation Day.  And as Casey would say, "Keep your feet on the ground, and keep reaching for the stars."

That, I understood.

"It gets worse once we get to her room / As she stops and she sings / Doot do do doot do do doot do / I claim New Religion is my song / Ah, she doesn't get it / It's all before she was born..."

NaBloSoFroDraWe 2011

It's that time of the year again. Time for the week you thought you'd forgotten about, but someone just won't let you. Time for the blogging project that has ruined you for all other blogging projects.

It's National Blog Something From Draft Week!

Begun in 2008, NaBloSoFroDraWe (also known as NaBloSoThaDraWe) encourages bloggers everywhere to select something they've written in the past, but for whatever reason never posted, and finally share it with the world.

It's kinda like getting back together with an ex. You completely ignore all the reasons things didn't work out in the first place, close your eyes, and hope for the best! And that always works out, right?

I like to think of NaBloSoFroDraWe like this: Less travel than BlogHer, less writing than NaNoWriMo.

NaBloSoFroDraWe is a mystery only in its inexplicable lack of popularity. I know I was baffled when reading over the list of obscure holidays for August 10th this morning and saw that Duran Duran Appreciation Day was cited, but not NaBloSoFroDraWe. And this from a guy who likely has more appreciation for Duran Duran than any other 38-year-old heterosexual male you know.

So come on, bloggers. Time to dig out that post you never quite finished, or thought was too personal, or just really wasn't very interesting, and let it see the light of day! And remember our slogan: "Some day we'll look back on this and cringe."

For now, here is my entry for NaBloSoFroDraWe '11. It's something I wrote in 2009, about a dream I had. I have fought and defeated every urge to edit it. And believe me, there were plenty.


CLOUD NINE

I was on cloud nine that day. My mind, a glorious confusion of thoughts and emotions. The prevailing question was how did this happen.

I remembered very clearly and precisely when I first clasped your hand in mine -- both our hands shaking so slightly but the feeling of now that we'd gotten this far not wanting to let go. Then at some point we kissed. The rest was a blur. But it did not matter. For when one is on cloud nine, one does not question how one arrived there. One simply enjoys the all-too-brief stay.

Someone called my name from a bench on the sidewalk. I did not recognize the fellow, but he asked if I wanted to go into a nearby pub for a drink. Since I had just realized that although I was walking, I had no idea where I was going, I accepted.

We sat there for ten or twenty-five minutes, him rambling on like we were long lost friends, me pretending to know who he was but never figuring it out. Then he spilled his drink and got into a shouting match with some lady I had seen there before but did not know her name, and I left.

Back out on the street, I still had no idea where I was going. I was just walking, and thinking, and smiling. Wondering when I'd see you again.

"It gets worse once we get to her room. She stops and she sings, doot do doo do do doo do doo. I claim New Religion is my song. Ah, she doesn't get it. It's all before she was born..."