there’s this little hole-in-the-wall joint down in the heart of the city, nestled between a bakery and a law firm- squeezed right in there, just one door in about ten feet of wall- and you can tell the owners were tired of fliers falling off the door because they just ended up spray painting their message right on there: food. music. just those two words, like, what more do you want?
you’re not quite sure how you got here, case in one hand, drenched from the rain, but you don’t really care. you just got done with practice but your ears aren’t bleeding yet, and you’re not ready to face what’s waiting at home anyways. [you swear, that five-letter word gets you every time-]
inside the place there is crammed much more than should be physically possible- not that there’s a lot, mind you, it’s just that the place is tiny, barely big enough to hold a stove and two employees, much less the near-dozen people watching the kids in the corner play.
when you say kids, you don’t really mean kids- but they are barely older than you, barely in their twenties, and you’re a geezer at heart anyways, so you have the right to say it. there’s three of them, doing some sort of melancholy song that fits the rain oh too perfectly, not to mention your mood, and if it wasn’t so hollow it might’ve just ripped your heart right out of your chest.
but although it’s feeling a little achy, and cold from that downpour outside, your chest is perfectly fine. perfectly normal. your mind drifts back to something the doctor said to you once. people naturally are more apt to be affected by the bad things in life. and then he said to you, compassionate eyes staring right through you like laser beams- he said, you’ve got to try to just ignore whatever gets you down, and focus on the good things.
and there’s no room to put your stuff, so you just unsnap your case right there on the counter where you’re supposed to be asking for coffee or something else bitter and acidic, something else angsty, and then you actually take the advice of your elders for once in your life and play a major scale, right there in the middle of their song.
listen up! it says. there is enough sadness in the world without you adding to it.
the three kids stop and look at you, dark- eyed and confused, like, what else is there to play? and you blast a couple more notes at them from there across the room, and they look doubtful, but then the youngest one, with blond hair which seems to have fallen in his face almost by accident, starts playing some chords. he looks at you with expectant eyes, eyes that you can tell from across the room are the strangest silver you’ve ever seen, like the moon just decided to plant itself right behind his eyelids. you can tell that he doesn’t trust you- and yet he’s doing this anyways.
they stare at you, keeping the pace with wary eyes as you tell them the story of when the girl from down the street just showed up at your house that one summer afternoon. you barely knew her name at the time, but you took her to the park and skipped rocks on the lake. the sun highlighted your faces like you were angels, like you two were the best thing that had ever happened. you were both fourteen but felt younger, felt you had more life left. [and now, just a few years have passed, but you feel so old.]
so one of the kids, green-eyed as a jealous cat, ventures a little, spells out a melody-memory about young love- and no, it’s not all wilted roses and accusations, like you expected, it’s the horse races, it’s the two of you running through town, tripping up because you don’t know how to slow down yet and you’re betting it won’t happen soon. his shaggy hair keeps getting in his face, but he flicks it back so he can make eye contact with you. somehow you’ve moved towards them, now truly a part of their circle, drawn in by the story.
the second one, sitting somber in the corner, takes the melody and starts twisting it until you realize how truly tangled everything else is. it’s not you that’s at fault here, it’s the rest of the world. [if they weren’t so malevolent–] the song shifts a little bit into a minor key, and it’s starting to look bleak again, but he’s playing with his heart. this is what he does, you can tell that it’s simply in his nature, but he’s taking way too much risk, because if this breaks now he’s going to be gone forever. it’s something you’ve never done, putting all of yourself into something, and it makes your chest tight just watching him.
and then moon-eyes takes the lead, starts playing, and you swear every hair on you is standing on end. it strikes you so true that you wonder if there was anything honest before it. the notes nip at your ears like discrepancies, and he sings it out like there won’t be a tomorrow, and that strikes you true, too, so true that before you know it you’re backing up so you won’t get trapped here. stuck in the middle of this ecstasy may be the best way to die, may be the way you want to get out, but not now. not now, because you have things waiting at home.
you just about trip over a table as you stumble out of there, and just before you open the door, not even bothering to take your case, they all look at you with hollow eyes, eyes alight with nothing physical. and those eyes scream so bitingly you’re sure they have teeth, scream that you were their savior and how could you leave now, when you’re taking their life with you. it’s greedy. they’re hungry. you wrench yourself from it and bolt out of there.
none of you had even spoken one word.
–
written m14nov2011.
my head decided to tell me this story right as i was about to fall asleep.
i hadn’t yet jammed then, but now i can confirm this: if you ever get a chance to do so, take it. don’t let your embarrassment hold you back. a good jam is one of the most euphoric activities you’ll ever take part in. and it probably won’t end up with you being killed or eaten.
–
idiography 