sentimental blvd.

I was on the road last night watching the rain from the jeep's grimy window and listening to the songs in my head. It was like MTV except the music is not some Top 40 pop-rock drivel. It was Time for Change by Motley Crue. Something from my childhood.

Nostalgia creeps in when you're traveling in the rain. And since Antipolo is not really Cubao's next-door neighbor, more songs followed: Van Halen's Right Now, Warrant's Andy Warhol Was Right, Cinderella's Heartbreak Station, Trixter's Surrender -- songs I listened to during the time when most of my peers were losing their heads over four scrawny bums called the Eraserheads. I remember the bands: Damn Yankees, Skid Row, LA Guns, Firehouse, Tesla, Kiss, Black Crowes, Mr. Big, Poison, even Bon Jovi, who, back then, sent my head banging like crazy with You Give Love A Bad Name. (Bed of Roses turned me off, so bad that I no longer listen to them.) I still consider Guns N' Roses as the band with the best moniker out there despite the fact that Axl was and still is an asshole. Their albums were great, too. And how could I forget Alice Cooper's Might As Well Be On Mars? That song once drove me to tears, along with Hardline's In the Hands of Time.

Then it hit me: why not compile these songs in one CD? It may come handy the next time it rains and I feel like knocking around the proverbial memory lane. It's no longer impossible these days. After all there's Limewire and all those file-sharing stuff on the Net. Download, then burn, or jam them in a portable MP3 player, I-Pod, what-not, and then walk around familiar streets and reminisce life 14 years ago. Magic.