Status: Updates weekly
Ulysses, OH
Lisztomania / Phoenix
During the next couple of days, I worked hard to thoroughly scout the place that would be my home for the summer. I couldn't sleep from the heat and the novelty of it all, so I had nothing better to do than hole up in the laundromat with a book from early morning to late night. I silently watched Carmen's every move until I could accurately reconstruct her cleaning routine, and then, after midnight, I had long chats with Valentina, Carmen's daughter, who always worked the night shift, and who refused to take my silence for an answer. She was in her early twenties but already married, with arms tattooed up to the elbows and an unsettlingly quick wit. She told me all I needed to know about the town, the shops in the city center, the bus schedule to Columbus and Cincinnati, the bookstore where I accidentally scored a part time job the first time I stepped inside a few days later, the diner with the checkered floor and juicy burgers, and the only bar in town with live music.
"There's a gig every Thursday," she explained, "and it's always small local bands. But they're running out, I think, so they've just put them on rotation now. I'll take you tomorrow, if you want."
The prospect of hearing real music played by real people, no matter how bad, filled me with a newfound energy that made my skin tight with anticipation. I spent Thursday morning walking around town, just looking at things as if I were seeing them for the very first time. The sky was overcast but the air warm, and the light filtering through the thin clouds was pinkish, powdery.
I bought a pack of cigarettes and headed for a long walk towards the outskirts of the town, and I walked along the riverbank until I found a spot in the grass to lie down. Everything around me was beautifully deserted, as if the whole thing existed for my personal enjoyment, and for a few minutes I was engulfed by a raw, savage happiness.
After a late lunch I must have fallen asleep in the empty coolness of the laundromat, because I was woken up by the wild racket of a motorcycle pulling up the driveway. I got up quickly, still in a daze, and the book resting on my chest fell to the ground in a flurry of paper. I looked out the shop window and saw Valentina and her husband, Enrique, taking off their helmets while laughing at something in sync. My heart took an off beat out of a pang of envy, but it lasted no more than a second.
"Ready to go?" Valentina peeked her head in through the door. "We were gonna walk, if that's okay. It's just fifteen minutes from here."
"Sure," I said, trying to pull myself out of my drowsiness. I ran a hand through my hair. There was not much else I could do. I stuck the paperback back onto the bookshelf with the vague hope of finding in later, and followed her out the door.
Enrique chattered endlessly on the way, generous with jokes and laughter, and Valentina was quick to match him with comebacks. In a moment of focus I noticed that they had matching tattoos on their ring fingers instead of wedding bands, and no matter how much I tried, I couldn't resent them for it. They were enjoying themselves so shamelessly without a reason that my sour daze soon gave way to a childish excitement as I trailed after them street after narrow street until we reached the Soul Kitchen, perched proudly on a street corner, doors thrown wide open, covered in gig flyers. I stopped for a moment before entering, trying to figure out who would be on tonight. The freshest looking one was a small, black poster with purple and yellow design, for a band called Soleil & Cher. It took me a moment to get the double-edged joke behind it, and I couldn't help laughing.
"Are they good?" I asked Valentina, and she laughed at me good-naturedly.
"That doesn't really matter here," she replied, "but you might like them anyway."
It was early, the sun still way up and shining hot and bright, so we found a nice, empty table up front by the stage. Without even asking me first, Enrique returned from the bar with three bottles of beer in hand, and for a moment I was too flustered to thank him. While we were waiting for the show to start, they kept bombarding me with questions, and I felt tremendously boring dishing out my yes and no answers - yes, I had just finished high school, no, I wasn't sure if I wanted to go to college yet, yeah, I guess I liked music and read sometimes. The air was chilly inside, industrial fans working hard to keep the air breathable, and in the mechanical white noise I almost missed the first chords being struck. As suggested by the name of the band, it was a two piece, with a bleach blonde girl on keyboards, short lavender dress, hair up in a bun on the top of her head, looking focused and distant, and a pale boy in all black, messy head of hair, working a black Telecaster, singing in a voice that was high-pitched but hoarse and positively magnetic. They weren't that great, but they weren’t bad either. They mostly played covers from The White Stripes through Queens of the Stone Age, with long, instrumental interludes in between that ranged from uninspired to downright cathartic. Probably used to them, the people in the room chattered away nonchalantly, except for a couple of kids about my age, probably friends of the band, dancing at the front with loose limbs. As for me, I had nothing left to do but stare. With my chin in my palm I watched the weird boy and the weird girl play, and I saw the surprise flash on their faces whenever, for a moment or two, they sounded better than expected. And I watched the two of them and felt a smile stick to my face stubbornly as my foot tapped to the beat.
"There's a gig every Thursday," she explained, "and it's always small local bands. But they're running out, I think, so they've just put them on rotation now. I'll take you tomorrow, if you want."
The prospect of hearing real music played by real people, no matter how bad, filled me with a newfound energy that made my skin tight with anticipation. I spent Thursday morning walking around town, just looking at things as if I were seeing them for the very first time. The sky was overcast but the air warm, and the light filtering through the thin clouds was pinkish, powdery.
I bought a pack of cigarettes and headed for a long walk towards the outskirts of the town, and I walked along the riverbank until I found a spot in the grass to lie down. Everything around me was beautifully deserted, as if the whole thing existed for my personal enjoyment, and for a few minutes I was engulfed by a raw, savage happiness.
***
After a late lunch I must have fallen asleep in the empty coolness of the laundromat, because I was woken up by the wild racket of a motorcycle pulling up the driveway. I got up quickly, still in a daze, and the book resting on my chest fell to the ground in a flurry of paper. I looked out the shop window and saw Valentina and her husband, Enrique, taking off their helmets while laughing at something in sync. My heart took an off beat out of a pang of envy, but it lasted no more than a second.
"Ready to go?" Valentina peeked her head in through the door. "We were gonna walk, if that's okay. It's just fifteen minutes from here."
"Sure," I said, trying to pull myself out of my drowsiness. I ran a hand through my hair. There was not much else I could do. I stuck the paperback back onto the bookshelf with the vague hope of finding in later, and followed her out the door.
Enrique chattered endlessly on the way, generous with jokes and laughter, and Valentina was quick to match him with comebacks. In a moment of focus I noticed that they had matching tattoos on their ring fingers instead of wedding bands, and no matter how much I tried, I couldn't resent them for it. They were enjoying themselves so shamelessly without a reason that my sour daze soon gave way to a childish excitement as I trailed after them street after narrow street until we reached the Soul Kitchen, perched proudly on a street corner, doors thrown wide open, covered in gig flyers. I stopped for a moment before entering, trying to figure out who would be on tonight. The freshest looking one was a small, black poster with purple and yellow design, for a band called Soleil & Cher. It took me a moment to get the double-edged joke behind it, and I couldn't help laughing.
"Are they good?" I asked Valentina, and she laughed at me good-naturedly.
"That doesn't really matter here," she replied, "but you might like them anyway."
It was early, the sun still way up and shining hot and bright, so we found a nice, empty table up front by the stage. Without even asking me first, Enrique returned from the bar with three bottles of beer in hand, and for a moment I was too flustered to thank him. While we were waiting for the show to start, they kept bombarding me with questions, and I felt tremendously boring dishing out my yes and no answers - yes, I had just finished high school, no, I wasn't sure if I wanted to go to college yet, yeah, I guess I liked music and read sometimes. The air was chilly inside, industrial fans working hard to keep the air breathable, and in the mechanical white noise I almost missed the first chords being struck. As suggested by the name of the band, it was a two piece, with a bleach blonde girl on keyboards, short lavender dress, hair up in a bun on the top of her head, looking focused and distant, and a pale boy in all black, messy head of hair, working a black Telecaster, singing in a voice that was high-pitched but hoarse and positively magnetic. They weren't that great, but they weren’t bad either. They mostly played covers from The White Stripes through Queens of the Stone Age, with long, instrumental interludes in between that ranged from uninspired to downright cathartic. Probably used to them, the people in the room chattered away nonchalantly, except for a couple of kids about my age, probably friends of the band, dancing at the front with loose limbs. As for me, I had nothing left to do but stare. With my chin in my palm I watched the weird boy and the weird girl play, and I saw the surprise flash on their faces whenever, for a moment or two, they sounded better than expected. And I watched the two of them and felt a smile stick to my face stubbornly as my foot tapped to the beat.