Tao of Steve: Timely Reverberations pt 1 (587 hits)
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Submitted by sharpie <tiny-weiner.at.hugeballs.com> (View user info) at 2004-03-13 17:03:51 EST
*Hold on there buckaroo- This is not my work, a very good friend of mine wanted me to post this, and see what people's reactions were, I have several two parts to this story, and about nine to an essay that he wrote. I though about creating another account for him and posting under that, but I didn't want to fuck with the only one account rule. Please keep in mind that this was written in a notebook, whilst my friend was wondering about the northwestern us, homeless, high and broke. Grammer and puncuation was not really a priority, that being said-*
I give you the Tao of Steve series:
Timely Reverberations pt 1-
The day, beginning as any other California day, rose limned in a haze of delicate, smog-denuded scarlet haze, accentuated by the week-long wildfire in the hills of the San Gabriels. Driving down the proverbial Sunset Boulevard, outlined in the even greater proverbs of palms and broken dreams, a crowded studio musician heads off to the session, vaguely apprehensive at the thought of the day's work, that is, the cutting of a highly experimental track; a song which, for the past week, or roughly the duration of the blaze above, has frustrated every attempt at a passable performance and had inspired a sort of unintelligible dread in the hearts of all those who've had a hand in the creation or modification thereof. An admirably accurate portend of that to come. He parks and exits the car, and on the short walk to the studio, a ragged leprous beggar of a supposed drunken nature calls out in a ragged sort of supposed drunken voice, "Today is nearly the day!" Our character turns, somewhat stirred at this pointed outburst, but quickly dismisses the familiar hint as but the ravings of a 'wingnut lunatic', having considered the illusionary surface of the source.
He enters the cool perverted building, rapidly settling down and preparing himself for his work; the necessary, though superficial, greetings exchanged between the band and the technicians; the unavoidable cup of coffee (the tune being insanely up-tempo); the scales, delusive long tones and rancidly re-hashed arpeggios comprising the warm-up of an over-developed unnatural talent.
They proceed, but as they grapple with the elusive intricacies of this modern masterpiece, the room grows dim, imperceptibly shading slowly darker as the day passes, and as the sun begins it's disappearance into the horizon, are left with yet another unfinishable track proving once more persistently troubling.
As he drives home, the lights of the evening city seem unnaturally introverted, somehow lacking in the starburst haloes normally reserved for modern incandescent illumination, but he soon sublimates this feeling, though when flicking the light switch in his apartment, gropes through the now-undeniable increasing gloom as his eyes but half-adjust to the shadow. Leafing through the unimportant mail, he soon crawls off to bed to sleep, though rest comes not. Tossing, turning, he sweats the night away, until in a curious early morning hour the phone rings, jangling into the appropriate tension of his limbs, drawing deep, the insomniac half-sleep indulged.
He answers, and hears but the hum of an empty connection repeating silently, "Today......" His attentive listening continues, as a deer in the headlights, far longer than he once thought, longer than to drive any sane man into the least of paranoiac tendencies. The buzzing incoherency of his screaming alarm clock shocks him out of his subtle hypnosis, and he slams the phone to the suddenly quivering cradle, quaking faintly as he rises and walks to the mirror.
A flash of peripheral light jolts his precarious balance and jumps back into the hallway; shaking his head at his timid nervousness; trying to laugh off this being so on the edge he so well avoids. Dazedly, he drives to work, and as he abandons the car and passes yesterday's corner, glances gleaming around for the demon of the 'dreg' of humanity he somehow suspects of waiting, but is not found. As a sigh of embarrassed relief quietly escapes his lips, he notices the pallor of the sunshine, filtered through the befouling metropolis air, diluted beyond any he's yet seen, but again, brushes the warning off.
As he enters the studio, horn in hand, the careless drummer greets him with the nonchalant remark, "Well, today's gotta be the day!"......... Our protagonist starts, dropping the instrument in a crashing ringing injury to the muffling floors, and bolts, a gut-shot impala, for the door. Barreling out into the street, he darts through the heavy morning traffic in unconscious, adrenaline-driven dexterity, leaping fitfully past the throngs of startled shells of people, and as the reeling world whirls about his suddenly frightening eyes, the concrete reality subconsciously believed by the brain fails, disintegrating into gaping darkness; a deepening void through which the echoes of consensus dissolve, driving this once-successful man into the bodily sodden disorder of the prophetic homeless visionary who the day before had foretold, in most simple of words, the complete dissemination of this certain sober sanity into the rabid chaos of the uncertain self-consciousness that is the mystery of the myth of the mind.
-to be continued...
User Reviews
Submitted by Morgaine (user info) at 2004-03-13 21:50:49 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
I just watched the movie "The Tao of Steve" the other day.
I liked the movie, but didn't care much for your post.