OK, so… While I would much prefer reading everyone else’s take on No Theme Thursday, I decided to take a stab at narrating one of these pics. I usually stick to poetry, so I am outside my wheelhouse here. Punctuation, structure, etc. will not be proper or pretty. You’ve been warned.
Her Name Is What, Now?
I had never met anyone from England before, and how I ended up meeting these three fellas in a downtown bar, on a completely dead Wednesday night is beyond me. I’m talking so dead that even the hookers went to bed early. To bed alone, at that.
Apparently, they’re in a band. New wave, from the looks of them. Nothing against it, mind you; I’m just more of a rock and metal guy.
I guess they have an album out and they’re touring clubs here in the states to promote it. They asked me if I had heard it. I had not. They were kind enough not to hold it against me and even bought a round and invited me to join them.
Simon, John and Nick were their names. They had played a show earlier that night in another part of town and stumbled upon this hole in the wall to unwind after the gig. And here I thought life in a band was groupies, booze and drugs 24/7. I guess sometimes everyone needs a break.
I dabbled in guitar and had friends in local bands, so we “talked shop” for a bit and then I went on a tangent about my love for all things Van Halen, probably for far longer than I should have. The guys were good-natured enough to humor me, and even said their guitarist, Andy, was a huge Van Halen fan too, but played nothing like Eddie’s style.
While we were chatting, I noticed Simon kept scribbling things down on a paper napkin.
John asked him what he was doing, and he said he was working on lyrics for that tune they’d been rehearsing. He slid the napkin to John and Nick and they started reading.
“Bird of paradise.”
Cherry ice cream smile.”
“Suppose it’s very nice.”
Nick asked about the chorus. What had he come up with for that?
“Her name is Rio, and she dances on the sand,” Simon said dryly as he finished his beer. He followed that up with a glance to me and said, “No offense, mate, but American beer is weak as piss.”
“That’s why I drink bourbon,” I told him as I raised my glass.
He gave me a wink with a chuckle and nodded to John and Nick. They had to button up and hit the road. They had a show in the next state over on Friday. We shook hands, I wished them good luck and they were on their way.
With lyrics like that, they’re gonna need all the luck they can get.
As fate would have it, I saw Simon, John, Nick, their guitarist Andy, and drummer Roger about a year later. They were sitting on a sailboat in the middle of the ocean singing about Rio. Rio with the cherry ice cream smile who danced on the sand.
I knew I should have asked for their fucking autographs.
When I made the image, the inspiration was Duran Duran’s fantastic 1982 single “Rio” off the album of the same name. While I am mostly a rock guy, this is one fantastic, sexy song, and I wanted to try capturing that when I was constructing the prompts. Whether I did or not is a matter of conjecture, and I had fun with it.
The Beginning At Last 
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