Today I give you a song from my true list of favorite's.  What makes a song a favorite for me?  Lyrics are a must.  Matching up or communicating my own philosophy is almost always the case.  Pale Shelter is a classic case and a classic tune.  Back in the day I recall having a fall out shelter sign in my own bedroom.  I slashed out the word FALLOUT and wrote PALE on the sign.  But that really is playing with words.  The fact is Pale Shelter is someone that is false.  Someone that will never be there for you when you need them most.  They are, "Pale Shelter".  I remember Mike Ziegler and I belting out "...And I can't operate on this failure! When all I want to be is... in -- complete command!"  The funny part was when we sang it, we meant it.  I could think of so many young loves...  girls that had come and gone.  Ah the innocence of youth. -- and the wisdom of it too.  I knew what love was worth and I recognized pale shelter when I saw it.  I labeled so many as pale shelter.  



Oh... and Pale Shelter pulls its title from the Henry Moore painting.  On the album it's released, The Hurting, Roland and Curt were steeped deep in psychology.  They vented heavily about their youth, and upbringing.  Pale Shelter was written about their parents, not a girl.  I always thought of Pale Shelter as someone you were meant to be in love with but you recognized they were not someone that was truly there for you.  Pale Shelter is someone you fear drawing close to and know better than to count on.   more »

You know when you write a story, you can always make it better.  Please revisit the story below as I've edited it. 

-Lars Hindsley
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There was a day I fell into danger. I met a girl.  Love.  It was that good feeling we all search for.  It was the feeling we all hope for.  It was a feeling I once scorned and ignored.  I was that fool that dared to think I was lucky enough.  If there is a feeling of winning the lottery and actually holding the winning ticket, I had that feeling.  The feeling that it must be a dream and I refused to wake up for the fear it would end.

Then it seemed as soon as it was upon me, it vanished -- because she told me she'd never hurt me.  That man which was the most dangerous of men on earth was vulnerable.  The fickle heart was captured.  I felt a change in her.  The electricity that binded us together was no illusion, so why did she open her eyes?  Why did she wake up from such a good dream.  After all, it was meant to be a dream come true.  Did her heart stop beating for me?  I'll never know, for she would never say.  She just let me go and faded away.  Left to my pain, it was time for me to wake up.

Some dream, some do.  It's a fatal cause to think you can wake up from a dream and still be in love.  Dreams only come true while you are dreaming.  When you wake up from that dream love is no longer a source of happiness; love becomes painful.

What makes love so painful?  I think it is the understanding we have that we only get one go around in life.  The time we lost we never get back and when we lose someone we care about, we are faced with what we believe is futile future.  I mean to say that the absence of that person we love changes how we live.   There is the life you had before them where you were happy to be alone, and the life you have after them as they've taught you the value of being with someone you care about.  You care about someone more than yourself. You have a sense of purpose with them.  When they are gone, you feel you have no purpose.  You feel loneliness instead of just being alone.

Ironically when love is blind you see things most clear.  The day she said she'd never hurt me was the day I should have realized she would.  You see when she broke my heart I said to her, "You said you loved me." Her answer was simply, "Now I don't."  Love is ...a dangerous language. 

I opened my eyes and every star in the sky stopped shining. I stepped back into the shadow and felt I deserved to be a fool.  I was angry, I was sad.  I was everything but crushed, because I had at least had my dignity.  I danced a little dance, picked up the pieces and moved on.  I was honest with my emotions and felt what some men never come to know.  I had a gift that was not meant to be taken away; a gift, shimmering in my mind that for a brief time I held in my arms. 

Reluctantly I accepted my fate.  My eyes began to bear down hard with a glare.   I was once again the most dangerous of men on earth. After all I was no stranger to danger and love is      more »