Status: Pretty Much Alive
My Wild Love
Huxley Would Know
“I’m in a band.” Jim told me quietly as we laid next to each other on hard concrete the very next night. Wind whistled around us and I had barely made out his words.
“What?” I asked looking at him from the corner of my eye. I didn’t dare take my eyes fully away from the beautiful summer night shining above us. We were on the rooftop again. Our rooftop, we had christened it. It had become our hideaway from the world and a step closer to Nirvana.
“It’s true.” Jim said as if I didn’t believe him. He shimmied on the solid ground and turned to lay on his side so he could look at me. “We’re called The Doors.”
I grinned slyly and looked over at him fully, “After The Doors of Perception?” I guessed.
Jim smiled, “Only you would know that.”
“Maybe Huxley would.” I reasoned with half a grin.
“Maybe.” Jim allowed. He met my eyes with the look that never failed to move part of my soul. There were was something about his eyes that set my heart ablaze.
“Well, when did all of this happen?” I asked, half in awe by the power of his stare.
Ever since that day in the bookshop, we’d been together all of our days. I tried counting back the time to when we met, but the hours and minutes gone were impossible to calculate. It was almost two weeks, I figured, but a whole lifetime to me. There were some connections that defied logic.
Jim traced weird figures onto the concrete with his index finger and simply replied, “Before I met you.”
***
When we approached the beach house, Jim opened the rickety door quickly and it creaked loudly as we walked inside. Sitting on the shaggy orange carpet were three guys and two girls talking in the back of the room. The females lounging on purple pillows sprawled out on the floor and the distinct odor of weed and something stronger hung in the atmosphere.
“Hey.” Jim greeted simply, raising a hand. I detected a subtle smirk on his face. As the girls went on talking without a stop, the men only stared at us. After a moment of silence, one of the strangers ended the pause.
“Where have you been, man?” He asked, spacily. The man had blonde hair and round glasses that he consistenly pushed up the bridge of his nose.
Another guy with brown hair and a mustache chimed in, “Is she why you haven’t shown up?” For obvious reasons, I didn’t appreciate his comments or the tone of his voice. My first impression categorized him as the kind of guy who wouldn’t have much regard for anyone else.
The third man had brown hair too with a strange curly texture to it. He looked rather quirky in a patterned shirt and pants. As everyone said their piece, he sat silently merely listening to the conversation and observing everything that went on with keen eyes.
Instantly, I put my hands on my hips and narrowed my eyes at the rude man with the mustache. Unfortunately, he wasn’t paying attention; everyone was waiting for Jim to say something.
“Don’t worry about it.” Jim spoke simply seeming to answer both questions at once. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”
“You can’t just do that.”
“A few more days of this and the club was going to cancel our shows.” The man with the glasses said, crossing his arms over his chest.
“But they didn’t, so everything’s okay.” Jim grinned pulling off a smartass attitude perfectly. I was almost tempted to laugh. “We still have the shows.”
The person who had been silent the whole time finally spoke. Instead of interrogating Jim, he turned to me, “So what’s your name?”
“Emma.” I told him, fighting the urge to laugh. The other two guys now looked at me with interest and curiosity on their faces since I was an invader in the group. Jim leaned forward unexpectedly and pressed his lips to my temple, as I asked, “And how about yourself?”
“I’m Robby.” He announced, looking as if he was deciding whether or not he should get up and shake my hand. In the end he decided on a subtle wave.
“Ray.” The blonde guy introduced with a subdued smile. “Nice to meet you.”
The third man sighed, “I’m John.” I got the vibe that he wasn’t looking to let Jim off the hook so easily. Missing band practices went down as a federal offense in his book.
“Let’s practice.” Ray sighed, after typical the introductions were taken care of.
Grinning, Jim turned to me and started to use the power of his eyes, “Wanna see some poetry tonight?”
***
Jim had always talked to me about his interest in reading about crowd control. He’d always been curious to discover in the contours of people’s minds and the way react to situations; fear, anxiety, pain, loss, happiness. And how easily persuaded they could be by the ideas or actions of another.
But I never thought he’d get a chance to use it with so many people.
The crowd was full of all sorts of people to squeeze past. Hooker look-alikes were slumped at the bar in mini-skirts and high heels. Some seedy men with beige trench coats lined the walls of the joint, most likely with stolen merchandise and fake watches jammed into their pockets. Even the normal looking people were paying attention to the act on stage.
The people in the crowd were either in a trance watching Jim on stage or making it look like they weren’t listening. With latter I could tell they were subtly turned toward the stage and straining their ears to hear Jim’s words more clearly. And I had to admit, just like Jim said, that this was definitely poetry. The words were meant to meld a bond with your heart in such a way that not listening would actually be physically painful.
For the first number or two Jim was facing totally away from the audience. It was a strange sight to see. He faced the curtain and sang, still managing to convey emotion in his voice and connect with his listeners. And I was just as entranced as the onlookers.
The more comfortable he got the more he turned around, but still always keeping his eyes closed. Maybe it was for security in himself, some last act of preservation. Standing on stage confessing your soul to an audience of mostly strangers is like prancing around naked in an office building. It’s uncomfortable, risky as to how you will be perceived by the audience, and can be traumatizing if things go awry.
His worries were for nothing; the audience was captured in his hold and allowing him to pull the strings.
I couldn’t tell if his lyrics were planned or coming right off the top of his head. Either way I was stunned by the brilliance and majesty of the words. It was hard to believe I could know such a person. After their set ended an hour later, the audience snapped back to their normal selves and the strange atmosphere created by The Doors faded away into memory
.
After a moment of reflection, I hopped off the bar stool I had been sitting on and went to the backstage area to meet up with the band members. The next band up was already hustling to the stage and seemed keyed up to get through their set. In the rush, their guitarist bumped into me and almost knocked me through the heavy stage curtain.
He caught my arm firmly, “Oh shit. Sorry.”
In the dim lighting, he took in my features as I did the same to him. His shoulder-length black hair flew in all direction like he just went through a wind tunnel. The dark coffee color of his eyes had a hint of wisdom behind them, though he must not have been any older than his early twenties.
“It’s fine. No hard done.” I told him, flashing a genuine smile. My arm slid out of his grip as I headed in Jim’s direction. I called back to him, “Good luck!”
When I reached Jim and the other bands members, he was looking far off towards the stage at something I couldn’t quite catch. My curiosity was piqued and I followed Jim’s eyes, but could only see the new band setting up on the stage. Once the group went through the standard sound check, they started right into a fast up-beat number.
“What are you staring at?” I asked confused at what he was focused on. Part of me was tempted the wave a hand in his face to wake Jim out of this strange daze.
“What did he say to you?” Jim asked, catching me off guard. He made it clear he was talking towards the guitar player who bumped into me with a nod of the head.
“Nothing really. Just all the basics, I guess.” I said which was true. “Why?”
“He was watching you.” Jim explained, running an absent hand along my spine.
“So?” I questioned with a shiver.
“I dunno…” Jim spoke softly, looking away towards the stage again. His eyebrows furrowed together in deep thought about something. “I didn’t like it.”
“What?” I asked looking at him from the corner of my eye. I didn’t dare take my eyes fully away from the beautiful summer night shining above us. We were on the rooftop again. Our rooftop, we had christened it. It had become our hideaway from the world and a step closer to Nirvana.
“It’s true.” Jim said as if I didn’t believe him. He shimmied on the solid ground and turned to lay on his side so he could look at me. “We’re called The Doors.”
I grinned slyly and looked over at him fully, “After The Doors of Perception?” I guessed.
Jim smiled, “Only you would know that.”
“Maybe Huxley would.” I reasoned with half a grin.
“Maybe.” Jim allowed. He met my eyes with the look that never failed to move part of my soul. There were was something about his eyes that set my heart ablaze.
“Well, when did all of this happen?” I asked, half in awe by the power of his stare.
Ever since that day in the bookshop, we’d been together all of our days. I tried counting back the time to when we met, but the hours and minutes gone were impossible to calculate. It was almost two weeks, I figured, but a whole lifetime to me. There were some connections that defied logic.
Jim traced weird figures onto the concrete with his index finger and simply replied, “Before I met you.”
***
When we approached the beach house, Jim opened the rickety door quickly and it creaked loudly as we walked inside. Sitting on the shaggy orange carpet were three guys and two girls talking in the back of the room. The females lounging on purple pillows sprawled out on the floor and the distinct odor of weed and something stronger hung in the atmosphere.
“Hey.” Jim greeted simply, raising a hand. I detected a subtle smirk on his face. As the girls went on talking without a stop, the men only stared at us. After a moment of silence, one of the strangers ended the pause.
“Where have you been, man?” He asked, spacily. The man had blonde hair and round glasses that he consistenly pushed up the bridge of his nose.
Another guy with brown hair and a mustache chimed in, “Is she why you haven’t shown up?” For obvious reasons, I didn’t appreciate his comments or the tone of his voice. My first impression categorized him as the kind of guy who wouldn’t have much regard for anyone else.
The third man had brown hair too with a strange curly texture to it. He looked rather quirky in a patterned shirt and pants. As everyone said their piece, he sat silently merely listening to the conversation and observing everything that went on with keen eyes.
Instantly, I put my hands on my hips and narrowed my eyes at the rude man with the mustache. Unfortunately, he wasn’t paying attention; everyone was waiting for Jim to say something.
“Don’t worry about it.” Jim spoke simply seeming to answer both questions at once. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”
“You can’t just do that.”
“A few more days of this and the club was going to cancel our shows.” The man with the glasses said, crossing his arms over his chest.
“But they didn’t, so everything’s okay.” Jim grinned pulling off a smartass attitude perfectly. I was almost tempted to laugh. “We still have the shows.”
The person who had been silent the whole time finally spoke. Instead of interrogating Jim, he turned to me, “So what’s your name?”
“Emma.” I told him, fighting the urge to laugh. The other two guys now looked at me with interest and curiosity on their faces since I was an invader in the group. Jim leaned forward unexpectedly and pressed his lips to my temple, as I asked, “And how about yourself?”
“I’m Robby.” He announced, looking as if he was deciding whether or not he should get up and shake my hand. In the end he decided on a subtle wave.
“Ray.” The blonde guy introduced with a subdued smile. “Nice to meet you.”
The third man sighed, “I’m John.” I got the vibe that he wasn’t looking to let Jim off the hook so easily. Missing band practices went down as a federal offense in his book.
“Let’s practice.” Ray sighed, after typical the introductions were taken care of.
Grinning, Jim turned to me and started to use the power of his eyes, “Wanna see some poetry tonight?”
***
Jim had always talked to me about his interest in reading about crowd control. He’d always been curious to discover in the contours of people’s minds and the way react to situations; fear, anxiety, pain, loss, happiness. And how easily persuaded they could be by the ideas or actions of another.
But I never thought he’d get a chance to use it with so many people.
The crowd was full of all sorts of people to squeeze past. Hooker look-alikes were slumped at the bar in mini-skirts and high heels. Some seedy men with beige trench coats lined the walls of the joint, most likely with stolen merchandise and fake watches jammed into their pockets. Even the normal looking people were paying attention to the act on stage.
The people in the crowd were either in a trance watching Jim on stage or making it look like they weren’t listening. With latter I could tell they were subtly turned toward the stage and straining their ears to hear Jim’s words more clearly. And I had to admit, just like Jim said, that this was definitely poetry. The words were meant to meld a bond with your heart in such a way that not listening would actually be physically painful.
For the first number or two Jim was facing totally away from the audience. It was a strange sight to see. He faced the curtain and sang, still managing to convey emotion in his voice and connect with his listeners. And I was just as entranced as the onlookers.
The more comfortable he got the more he turned around, but still always keeping his eyes closed. Maybe it was for security in himself, some last act of preservation. Standing on stage confessing your soul to an audience of mostly strangers is like prancing around naked in an office building. It’s uncomfortable, risky as to how you will be perceived by the audience, and can be traumatizing if things go awry.
His worries were for nothing; the audience was captured in his hold and allowing him to pull the strings.
I couldn’t tell if his lyrics were planned or coming right off the top of his head. Either way I was stunned by the brilliance and majesty of the words. It was hard to believe I could know such a person. After their set ended an hour later, the audience snapped back to their normal selves and the strange atmosphere created by The Doors faded away into memory
.
After a moment of reflection, I hopped off the bar stool I had been sitting on and went to the backstage area to meet up with the band members. The next band up was already hustling to the stage and seemed keyed up to get through their set. In the rush, their guitarist bumped into me and almost knocked me through the heavy stage curtain.
He caught my arm firmly, “Oh shit. Sorry.”
In the dim lighting, he took in my features as I did the same to him. His shoulder-length black hair flew in all direction like he just went through a wind tunnel. The dark coffee color of his eyes had a hint of wisdom behind them, though he must not have been any older than his early twenties.
“It’s fine. No hard done.” I told him, flashing a genuine smile. My arm slid out of his grip as I headed in Jim’s direction. I called back to him, “Good luck!”
When I reached Jim and the other bands members, he was looking far off towards the stage at something I couldn’t quite catch. My curiosity was piqued and I followed Jim’s eyes, but could only see the new band setting up on the stage. Once the group went through the standard sound check, they started right into a fast up-beat number.
“What are you staring at?” I asked confused at what he was focused on. Part of me was tempted the wave a hand in his face to wake Jim out of this strange daze.
“What did he say to you?” Jim asked, catching me off guard. He made it clear he was talking towards the guitar player who bumped into me with a nod of the head.
“Nothing really. Just all the basics, I guess.” I said which was true. “Why?”
“He was watching you.” Jim explained, running an absent hand along my spine.
“So?” I questioned with a shiver.
“I dunno…” Jim spoke softly, looking away towards the stage again. His eyebrows furrowed together in deep thought about something. “I didn’t like it.”
♠ ♠ ♠
Ask and you shall receive!