Untitled

This is the beginning of... something. I found it on my computer and thought I'd throw it up here just to get some feedback.

“Symphony of sound.”  Those lyrics had more appeal to me than just the alliterative quality.  I liked the concept, the thought of writing something on so grand a scale (one which I was not actually able to do with my mostly amateur vocal experience) and also something that was so complete, that wrapped the receiver in a complete blanket of sound, completely immersed them so they were surrounded by my creation, my show of love to them.

I was sitting on the wooden floor of the choir room.  It was at the end of the semester and Presser, the music building, was oddly silent.  Students were studying for exams, not rehearsing for music lessons.  It was also the middle of the day and I normally would have been in that room later in the afternoon, if we were still meeting for rehearsal.  But I was on a mission.  A mission of remembrance.

We had seniors who were graduating, seniors who had given their hearts to the choir.  As a token of our appreciation we made them photos of the entire choir from our performance at the St. Lawrence Basilica in Asheville, North Carolina.  We then planned to have them framed with large mattes so that members of the choir could come and leave messages and well wishes.  It didn’t seem quite enough but at least I was pleased with how classy the gift was, nostalgic and thoughtful.

The director and I had just come back from shopping and he was off to a meeting, so we dropped off the materials for the gifts in the choir room and I’d run back to my dorm room to grab the rest of the tools I needed: tape, probably a cup of water, and of course my laptop.  I placed it on a wooden chair on the other end of the wooden floor and opened my music program.  I had a new CD I’d acquired over the weekend that I wanted to take for a test drive.  Most of the songs were new and they became the background soundtrack to my work.

I was plopped on the floor, opening frames, taping photos to the inside matting, focused on my work.  In the background a new song started to play and a line caught my attention.  “I’m writing you a symphony of sound.”  I knew that line, even if I didn’t know the song.  I jumped up and checked the artist and title: Jack’s Mannequin, The Mixed Tape.  I realized I’d seen that one line written down, on the online profile of the boy to whom I was responsible for having the CD in the first place.  A smile spread across my face, pleased with the recognition.

I didn’t know it at the time, but I would again be sprawled on that choir floor less than a week later, in a very different capacity.  Rather than being focused on a business task, the next time I found myself on that floor would be only for pleasure.  The choir room was indisputably an important room in my college life and I’d wanted to show it to him.  In memory it’s impossible to know who kissed who first but it doesn’t matter; maybe it was a mutual rush towards the other.  We were pretty much head over heels, as the damn cliché goes, anyway.  As dusk fell and the room became darker and darker we first stood in the middle of the floor, then slowly, slowly, finding ourselves lower and lower until I was lying in his arms, making music I’d never even known I could make before, half-trying to not get stuck under the piano, but caught up in the throes of being surrounded by the symphony we were composing, and completely lost in the moment.  My god, if music be the food of love then, damn it, PLAY ON.

Reviews

[Felix]

I got a lot of imagery in this. It's all tell and no show, but..somehow..I like that. It does seem like the beginning to something,it's got potential, although at the very end I got the feeling you just stopped mid-scene. Keep writing! It's good.