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Harmonic Fantasy...

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Joined: 05 Apr 2004
Posts: 557
Location: The world at random...
Harmonic Fantasy...  Reply with quote  

The day was. I had walked away from the confines of civilization to escape the crushing despair I felt. I had been feeling this way for some time and the only remedy I knew was to go out into the woods with my guitar and try to work through the problem musically. I've never been one to express my feelings to others and frankly there wasn't anyone to talk to even if I was so inclined. I was far from home and family and I had just ended a relationship. Anne was like alot of other girls I had dated, always on the edge of a broken heart and needing someone to be with till she felt healed. I was good for her for awhile but I had noticed that we seemed to be drifting apart and she really didn't need me around. Problem was that I needed too. I had always felt that I was a support to others but also felt that I couldn't find the support that I needed. I wanted an equal someone who didn't need me as much as wanted me. This hadn't happened yet and I was begining to feel that it never would. So I did what I always do, pulled out the guitar and fret. I would play till beads of blood formed on my brow and try to find that song that always lingered in the back of my mind teasing me. All of my other songs were mere echoes. Others seemed to like them but to me they always seemed to be missing something. An elusive harmony that was just there but never found.

I walked down the path that was barely there carefully threading my way along the path and keeping the guitar case from smacking into the brush. As I stepped over a log I felt a beam of sunlight warm my skin and a breeze that somehow made the tension in my neck loosen somehow. In the distance I heard what sounded like a violin playing a strain that sounded like pain itself. And the voice that followed that was strong, clear and full of lament. My first feelings of annoyance that someone else had intruded in my spot vanished as I listened closely to the song that she (and it was a she no doubt of it.) sang. It had elements of sadness, anger, and a touch of frustration that sounded so familiar. The voice sounded like Kate Bush would sound if she sang Alanis Morristte's lyrics. But at the same time it was also missing something, a counterpoint, like so many of my songs it lacked harmony.

The song was a challenge, it demanded, pleaded to be answered. But it seemed that the singer didn't believe that the song could be answered. With a screech across the strings the bow dropped and with a curse and a sob the woman dropped the violin and sat down on the grass, her back to me face hidden by long brown hair. But the melody had started something in me that I couldn't really understand so much as feel. I quietly set the guitar case down and opened it. I lifted the guitar and felt for the chords that seemed to be the beginnings of the tune I had heard. At my first strumming I saw her stiffen and then spin around. Her eyes were green fire and I saw in them at first anger, how dare I intrude on her and more to the point play her song. I varied the theme with a run of my own from a song I had been working on for years but could never complete. I called it "getting aquainted". She looked like she wanted to say something at first but instead picked up her instrument and started adding her own melody over the rhythm I had started. What followed was a conversation almost. I would play something and she would reply and add something else to which I would answer back. It was the strangest feeling in a way because I had always believed that music was a language in itself but had never found anyone else who could improvise to any extent to prove it. Now I felt myself hoping that I had the chops to keep up. From the sweat on her face and a run she told me that she felt the same. It wasn't words it was pure feeling. Our fingers moved across the boards questioning, each other, testing each other. I was learning more about her in 1 barre than I had learned about anyone in any club I had ever visited.

I moved back to the original theme she had played and she followed me then passed me taking lead. The slight grin told me that she now felt I was worthy of playing it (pure speculation here I almost felt that she was being sarcastic about it). She began singing again and this time I added a rhythm that hadn't been there before. I could feel words forming in my mind that answered her lament with my own. As she ended I picked up the verse that told of my pain and I didn't try to compare or console just share. Her eyes widened at this but she added a light run of notes that accented my words perfectly. Here was not pity, or it's cousin sympathy but understanding. It was pain shared, she began to sing again and we sang in harmony this time. Our words the same with differant parts, my baritone to her alto.

We turned from each other but it didn't break the song at all. We moved closer together our backs bumping into each other. It was as if we somehow wanted to make physical connection but we knew our instruments required our hands full attention. We pressed back leaning against each other feeling the strength in each other. And she was strong, unbelievably so. Not in just a physical sense but I could feel it in her soul. We played that way locked together like one person for quite a while. I had lost track of my surroundings and given myself to the song. Somehow it had changed, it was her song but it was also that elusive bastard that had been rumbling around the edge of my conscienceness for years. They had come together, point/counterpoint and somehow they spoke together in a message that was on the surface our pain, frustration, and desires. It spoke of loneliness in a way that few could understand but then went further and told of a hope underneath it all that made you believe that just maybe there was something out there worth giving a damn about.

All songs have to end even this one. We played it out like a couple of teenagers on the phone going back and forth, "you hang up...No, you hang up.." It was a kind of silly giddiness that I hadn't felt in years. Somehow we ended it on the same note and at the same time. I laughed and thought
"That's the first time..."
"I ever finished the same time he did..." she finished.
We both cracked up at that one. We turned as one and hugged each other for all we were worth still holding onto the instruments we had been playing. I looked at her fingers and saw they were as red as mine. My hand hadn't felt that raw from playing since I had first started. I could see the callus's on her hand telling the same story. We sat down on the grass and put our instruments in our cases. Neither said a word, none were needed. I reached into the pocket of the case and pulled out a notebook that had most of the songs I had written. She pulled one out of a backpack she had wrote something in it and handed it to me. Our eyes locked and I could see that the tears of earlier were gone replaced by emerald fire. We stood up and took each other by the hands.
"Thank you" we chorused.
A kiss and then we parted. I picked up my case and turned to see she was already walking away. I looked down and saw that I still held her notebook in my hand. I smiled and headed back to the parking lot.

I loaded the guitar up and slowly headed home feeling lighter than I had in years. When I got home I opened the notebook and saw the last page.
It was a song titled (One-sided) Conversation. The words one-sided had been crossed out and replaced with Unfinished? with a phone number.
At the bottom she had written- same place same time next week? Emilie.
Think how much better you would be if you knew what you were doing?

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