Blind Melon Quotes

All I can do is read a book to stay awake, and it rips my life away, but it's a great escape.

When I look back, my greatest accomplishment in high school has nothing to do with competition and winning. I learned to use my own judgement and not to follow others blindly. I learned to judge myself based on my own standards. I learned to find my own voice. I learned to speak my own truth. I have nothing to show for these achievements, no grades, no medals, trophies, or diploma. Yet these are the achievements that can't be taken away by loss, failure, or misunderstanding.

Hey I'd like to daze away to a Place like no one has known In a state of mind I could call mine That only I could own Where I could hum a tune anytime I choose, and then there is no such thing as time Where I can feel no pain just calm and sane What a place for one to find

BRAD SMITH:  Music has an uncanny ability to mark periods of your life - like a milestone or a photo album. You hear three notes of your favorite album from ten years ago and you’re right there in your 1980 Honda Civic Wagon. It takes you back immediately. That’s the beautiful thing about music.

We were in the middle of a three car caravan accompanied by Jim Carlisle, a career diplomat and the perfect Charge’ de Affaires. His manner was formal but always with a practiced smile to make his counterparts feel at ease. He sat in the jump seat in front of Owen, Alex and I sat together in the back near the double cargo doors guarding the luggage. The driver was Pakistani as was the security guard on the passenger side. The cars were crossing a bridge when it happened. First the blinding flash, then the delayed sound, it was deafening with the unmistakable smell of high explosives. The Ford Expedition in front erupted in a mushroom cloud of smoke and fire as it leaped off the road and settled back in a black pile of melting plastic, glass and metal. Our driver slammed on the brakes, ramming the gear into reverse while twisting his body around for a better view out the rear door windows. It was to late, the car behind us had met the same fate, we were bookended by smoking heaps of scrap metal as the masked bombers, five of them, surrounded our SUV. This was a professional hit team, their leader was calm, he directed the others with chilling efficiency. They wore black ski masks, bullet proof vests and ear phone sets, only the leader spoke, the others took orders. The shortest one had a knapsack, he turned his back to another who unzipped it and removed the gray matter, it looked like putty, he slapped it hard against the double rear doors. These would be the most vulnerable, they locked together rather than to the structural integrity of the vehicle. Both doors exploded out and away from the car dangling precariously on their hinges. The short one jumped in first, throwing the luggage out and scrambling towards us as our security guard leveled his government issue Glock-45, he hesitated to long, the red dot sighting device from the backup shooter was in the center of his forehead. The bone and brain fragment from the melon sized exit wound in the back of his head splattered against the windshield. The driver went for the concealed weapon under the front seat but thought better of it as the bombers surrounded the vehicle. Outside the driver side window, the leader hit the bullet proof glass with the butt of his matt black automatic, he wanted the doors opened, the driver had already hit the lock release.

The readings and tributes were followed by a song, and they were all invited to join in. The lyrics were printed in the program. "No Rain" by Blind Melon had been a favorite of Blythe's, expressing the glory of escaping into a pages of a book. The woman playing guitar was a frequent patron of the shop. She had contacted Natalie and Frieda as they were organizing the program and asked to perform in Blythe's honor. As the lyrics of the song came out of Natalie on a shaky breath, she wished she could do exactly as the words expressed---Escape, escape, escape.