47 in 46: Love’s Theme

Admittedly, I had drawn this one up sometime ago, and even had it proofread to ensure that I chose the proper of two endings.

Still, it had a Halloweenish tinge to it, so I saved it till just now, this very week, in order to post.

Week next(ish) we’ll jump back a year again, and until then and as always, I hope you enjoy.

The year was 1974, the song was “Love’s Theme” by Love Unlimited…

20150524_152236

She hated his music, loathed it in fact. Always loud, obnoxious, screech-laden and filled with lyrics that she attributed to having mostly been something akin to blasphemy, had they been intelligible in the first.

She hated his music, truly, and the very worst was when he would go rumbling off into the shower, plugging his witches lament into the decrepit portable CD player that marred the otherwise docile air of the tiny white tiled bathroom they shared. Once the water was piping hot, the music too would begin to pipe through from under the bathroom door ajar’d, along with the steam and whatever pent-up anger he was washing off from his day.

She hated his music, but she tried her best to put up with it. They were roommates after all, and people who lived with each other needed to adapt. Her way of doing so was to try to ignore it as long as she could, hoping that it would cease before she lost her already loosened screw. Sitting in the hallway just outside, she would mentally try to tune down the cacophony, tight-lip screwing her face into a grimace worthy of dysentery while waiting on the silence.

She hated his music, and as he took dreadfully long showers, apparently playing an imaginary concert in his mind while lathering his body down, she could never find it within herself to outlast the audio carnage spewing forth, the billowing shower’s steam muffling it far too little. As a result she would often find herself wafting open the bathroom door, while dashing quickly into the haze of steam and heat. Being careful as to not look directly in on him while running over to the CD player, she would quickly paw the STOP button before bolting from the room in as hasty a fashion.

She hated his music, and knew he hated when she pulled this stunt as she could hear him scream bloody blue, seemingly at the CD player, over this abrupt silence. She always hoped for the best, but in each and every instance, it wouldn’t be but in a few heartbeats time before she would hear him splash from the tub and angrily stab the PLAY button once more to announce his encore of loud.

Today she watched him again on his bathroom sojourn, though this time proceeding sloth-like, gingerly placing a CD that she rarely saw him with into the player’s tray, instead of his usual fare. She was not surprised by the selection this time, as she had overheard the conversation he’d had just minutes before. She couldn’t hear what was being said from the other end, but by his reaction it was plain to see that he had had his heart broken once more.

Just like the last time, he immediately took all the blame – though in her opinion, just like the last time, nearly none of it rightfully belonged to him. And again, just like the last time, he immediately grabbed for his usually unused Barry White disc, a present from his now-deceased mother who truly never did understand his musical stylings either. Something about this disc must have somehow brought him closer to his mother, possibly the only woman ever who never demanded anything from him, never verbally bullied him, never made her love conditional, and never gave up on him.

In this context, the title track, “Love’s Theme,” blared more mournfully than most others would hear it, and – as he had the rigged the player to do so – tonight at least would immediately repeat itself each time its dulcet tones faded into silence.

She hated his music, but she loved this song. And she loved him even more. So much more so in fact that her heart would often flutter, as if it belonged to that of a schoolgirl, over the mere idea of their being together.  As such she couldn’t understand why, especially given all the disasters he had had with his other relationships, he never once even thought to give her a try. She knew him better than anyone else, she too never demanded nor expected anything from him, and in all the years he’d lived here with her, she had never once – not even with the loud and obnoxious music – thought about giving up on him. As the song entered something like its 800th iteration, she decided to pull her stunt just once more, but this time she wouldn’t run from the room. This time she would wait for him, and talk with him, and express herself to him. This time would be different. This time he would notice her.

She hated his music, but this time was different. This time the silence fell like a temple wall on the mourning, like the dropped casket in a quiet church. This time, instead of running, she sat quietly down in the chair across from the shower, waiting for him to acknowledge the silence and her. Time stood still for a moment, which meant forever, which meant it was over before it began, and the solitary slam of his fist against the wall alerted her as to what sort of mood she’d have to first contend with while telling him of her love.

“GoddammIT!” he quietly yelled into his chest, and then again louder to the ceiling. “Why can’t you give me just this once? Just this once without randomly turning off mid-song???” he tore open the curtain to see the room as it always was, foggy, white tiled, small, and empty of all life sans his own and that of the nameless cat that lived with him. He had no idea why the feline was just sitting there again staring intently at him, nor why that damned CD player would constantly shut off like it did. Lord knows he had paid enough for it not to do so. He went to hit the PLAY button again but then stopped mid-thought as he saw his raisinesque digits and realized that he’d probably shriveled in his lament long enough.

Drying off, he turned out the lights and scratched the top of the cat’s head absent-mindedly before leaving the room. He mused as she walked close enough by his side as to squeeze through the door with him that he should probably name her one day – hell, besides his mom, she had been the only other woman who’d never given up on him…

Advertisements

47 in 46: Wild World

Jumping back one year to 1971, we are joined by Cat Stevens, speaking more fluently in just over 3 minutes time of his heartbreak than I ever could, even if I’d seventy-times seven times as long to do so.

Now if “Spinning Wheel” was a song that caused my mind to stumble over it’s meaning, Mr. Stevens “Wild World” left me little doubt as to what was to come once “love” bloomed. Sadly, many more times than I would have anticipated.

To follow is what bubbled up while using this track as my prompt, and as always, I hope you enjoy…

20130224_181414

She’s gone.

She meant everything to me, and now she’s gone.

I can’t.

I just can’t. I can’t even go on. I can’t because of all the people in my life; she’s the one I thought would be mine forever.

Mine…

MINE!!!

Why can’t she be mine?

Why can’t she just still be mine?

I love her. I love her as I love the sound of the springtime birdsong on a late winter’s day. I love her like I love the taste of hose water in the dead raunch-heat of summer. I love her as I love the smell of warm pumpkin pie slathered in whipped cream during the crisp fall, with air chill just enough as to beckon forth fair warning of the dead season to come. I loved like this, and in ways indescribable. I loved her in a fashion that mere language fails to comprehend, let alone express.

And now…

Now…?

Now she’s gone. She’s gone after another, or after no one. She’s gone and moved on to whatever adventure she felt I could not be a part of, and my heart is suffocating at the thought of it. My mind reels over the impossibility. My soul moans over both her not being here with me, and in her being happy wherever it is that she is now.

Please, don’t misunderstand. I want her to be happy.

I do, really.

I just wish, I wish… Well, I wish that she could be happy with me. She was my everything; my life and my love. I just can’t imagine being alive anymore without her presence and her scent to comfort me, her smile and laugh to warm me, her strength and her bravado to shoulder me, and her innocence and grace to inspire me.

Damn it, she meant everything to me, and now she’s gone!

And I am so alone.

So terribly, frighteningly alone.

Of course, there’s also the family and friends to contend with. What do I tell them about us? How do I ever break it to everyone that she’s gone? How could I possibly explain in a way that would make even a fraction of sense out of this senselessness? I’ll let them blame me of course, for even in her deserting me, I couldn’t stomach to see her slandered. No, I just couldn’t.

I love her that much.

I wish her well, truly I do. And I mean her no harm. Not even after how deeply she hurt me; scarred me. No, not even after all that. Not even though as a result of her treachery I will never love again…

I just don’t know what I’ll tell everyone yet though, to break this news disastrous. But I do know that I need to get out from under this funk just long enough as to come up with some sort of story. I mean after all, the school year IS almost upon us, and of course last anyone knew, we were joyfully together as a happy couple when second grade came to a close.

I just can’t even imagine having to start third grade without her…

Briefly… My Last 100 Words

Is this my last post? I can’t really tell, but I do know that I couldn’t leave without visiting – at least just once more – the beautiful skies of our 100 Word Song:

robot-badge

M’desk is standing-height. I wanna crawl underneath it, to hide from Him.

I wanna crawl underneath, but it’s too high, providin’ no space small enough to feel safe.

I wanna crawl underneath, despite His sayin’ that everything’s finally becoming as it shoulda always been… as it never coulda been till now.

I crave to crawl underneath, as His reassurances only cause to pain me more.

My wings’re becoming unbound. Stretchin’, flexin’, impatient to be tried. Not on m’own account, but simply cuz the time is Now.

I wanna crawl underneath. But doing so’s pointless, tain’t nothing can hamper my Flight now…

•••

Briefly… The Origins Of Love

Leeroy will be mad. I think he was last time.

The last time that I was late in posting, the last time that the song prompt resulted in a 100 Word Song response that caused yet another song to come to mind as well.

I’m OK with Leeroy being angry. I mean, it’s not like he knows where I live or anything. Here’s this (last) weeks (long overdue) response. I hope you enjoy…

robot-badge

In the final analysis, He only ever gave you two gifts: your life, and that of His Son’s. Everything else simply flows forth from these two.

What you do with them is what counts. How you share these with others is the key.

In a world hollow and dry, you’re best by finding the one with whom you’ll drown with.

Should such one exist.

But if not, still you must continue in searching them out. You need persevere in seeking the origins of love.

Your life, His son’s sacrifice, these were not divined for loneliness. These, dear one, were intended for Joy.

•••

The prompt:

The addition to the prompt:

I Don’t Want To Go

mixtape-jenkehl1-300x300Listen, I’m terrible with good byes.

I’m much more of a “won’t you stay just a drink longer?” type of person. You know, assuming the one I’m asking is worth the question being asked.

And Twisted Mix-Tape Tuesday is very much worth it. I’ll miss you kids, and again Jen, thank you so much for creating this special place and time for us to share.

Now, let’s get this goodbye thing over with, before I lose it, David Tennant style…

Briefly…

Whether she’s realized it or not, Tori has always been there for me during my darkest hours. Not necessarily doing anything to pull me out of the gloom per say, but there for me none the less.

Similarly, the 100 Word Song family has seen me through some pretty tough times as well. So, when I realized that they had joined forces this week, I decided to come out of my flash fiction song prompt hibernation, and play along.

It’s good to be back 100 Word Songers – I hope you enjoy…

robot-badge

It happened again.

I dreamt of being loved… of being cherished.

Of all the dreams, these are the worst. Of all the nightmares, the frights, these are the ones that cripple my nights.

Unlike reality, in the dream she stayed. She meant it. She didn’t have others.

Unlike reality, there weren’t arguments, nor struggles, nor threats of flight.

Unlike reality, she was still breathing when I awoke.

I awoke to the guards calling my name, ushering me distractedly from general population back into solitary.

They think I’m alone in there, but those damned dreams can follow through.

Those damned dreams always do.

•••

The post is too relaxed for a title

Sorry to double-dip on the Liza, but she needs to make an appearance here this week as well.

You see, for this installment of Twisted Mix-Tape Tuesday, Jen tasked us with providing for you, (5) delicious slabs of musical mellow. Just (5) ditties that would relax and soothe, while jamming so, in a slowish-like nature.

Me and slow jams get along about as well as – well – about as well as whatever analogy you’d like to insert here to indicate that slow jams and I just don’t get along well at all. As such, this is most likely the first week where I will not even meet with the (5) song standard, based solely on my belief that it really is all about the quality, versus the quantity.

And those of you who were going to use that last bit, to now make a disparaging comment about Liza, can just go and stuff it! Slowly and soothingly, of course.

Speaking of, here’s Liza, talking about my favorite time of the week…

And here’s Dusty, talking about my favorite look…

And finally, here’s Stan and Charlie, talking about my favorite one note…

For your bonus track this week (what? You don’t actually need 5 songs first, in order to get one, ya know), I decided to avoid Herb, but only because I had already tapped into Stan and Burt. I also avoided a whole host of others that I feel are actually much more mopey than mellow (in large part, this is why today’s post is pretty much new wave-free, in fact). That being said, the following is probably one of my top-ranking “go-to” relaxing slow jams, even though it is neither slow, relaxing, nor jammish in any form or fashion.

It is however, Bobby. So I think that’s pretty much a “nuff said” right there. Here’s hoping your skies are of a similar hue this week…

•••

mixtape-jenkehl1-300x300