“They will.”I lift my chin, confident I’ve been right before and will be again.“Just like CDs.You’ll see.”
“You’re such an old soul,” she says, stepping out with him.“But I still love you.”
Once they’re gone, I grab the phone and call Roderick.I tell him I’ve got a compilation to finish and won’t be around until seven.The answering machine picks up, and I leave a message, which is a lot better than having to explain myself.
Then, I slip into the back office, power up the computer, and open the inbox.
Maybe I’ll write to DeadStrings.Maybe he’ll understand what’s crawling under my skin.
Or maybe I just need someone who understands what it’s like to want everything to stop spinning—even if it's just for one song.
ChapterForty-Seven
Private Message | EchoZone Internal Chat
From: DeadStrings
To: StringTheory27
Date: May 15th, 1997, 7:02 AM
Subject: Is this too early?
Sorry if thesubject’s weird.I never know what to put there when I start one of these.
I couldn’t sleep.My brain kicked in sometime around 3:30 and wouldn’t shut up.I tossed and turned for a couple of hours, so I figured—fine.
Let’s try to give this day a fighting chance.I’m not aiming for sunshine and motivational posters.Just something that sounds like survival with rhythm.Which is why, before my coffee, I’m sending you this message with what would be my first upbeat playlist.Enjoy because I don’t do upbeat and peppy often.I’m more of a “the darker the better” type of guy.
Working title: “Songs to Convince the Universe Today Might Actually Be Good”
(Title negotiable.Depends how the next hours go.)
“Here Comes the Sun”—The Beatles
This song is so gentle.It doesn’t cheerlead you into happiness—it coaxes you toward it.
That guitar intro feels like light slowly creeping into a dark room—no sudden switches, no pressure.Just possibility.And guess what?You want to try it because here it’s alright to finally be happy.
“Tempted”—Squeeze
I’m sure you’re thinking something along the lines of ‘What is this guy thinking?’Tempted can’t be a ‘Have a great fucking day’ song.But hear me out.
Everyone calls it a song about regret, about temptation, mistakes, love that’s slipping out of your hands.But ...you have to listen to how it moves.
There’s rhythm in it.Restraint.
Like it’s been through the night, through the wreckage, through arguments, and yet it’s still standing.These lyrics don’t beg for forgiveness.They don’t wallow.
It’s an acceptance.Sure, you messed up, lost something, and it might be dreading.However, the drums keep pushing forward, like the song is refusing to sit down and stay sad.
Because guess what?The day isn’t over, and neither is your life.
The vocal delivery is calm, matter-of-fact, almost detached—which somehow makes it more human.It’s a voice that’s tired—exhausted.Yet, they’re still trying.
And that’s why it works in the morning.It’s built on acceptance.On choosing to keep going even when your track record isn’t perfect.
It pushes you to find a way to walk forward in rhythm.
