Rather Than Hurt You
She learned what guitar means this morning. "Tar" means string, "gui" means how many. That's why there's also things like sitars and seetars. Guess bass guitar's a misnomer, she thought.
Then tonight her guitar died, or rather her connection to it. She cries at its base as it leans against the wall and listens to the out-of-tunes noises it makes when she picks it up to hold it. Wood and electronics aren't cuddly. Why doesn't it have a name? She at least loved it that much.
No more lessons. There's just one chip in the varnish. She never would have been good, but now she never will. Perhaps she could fight it. More likely she'll give up. The instrument's already become part of the wall.
It's betrayed her because she betrayed it. She hasn't played since the night before the morning she answered the phone. "Hey, Anna, this is ------. I don't want to tell you this, but I know you'd rather hear it from me." Why does that moment have to surface now? she wonders. She wants it to drown forever, to wither in the morning light until it's bleached away entirely. He and she belonged to the night.
Do you remember, Alex? This is the song I said that you would wish you had written. Find another feather for your fedora, because you did.
Then tonight her guitar died, or rather her connection to it. She cries at its base as it leans against the wall and listens to the out-of-tunes noises it makes when she picks it up to hold it. Wood and electronics aren't cuddly. Why doesn't it have a name? She at least loved it that much.No more lessons. There's just one chip in the varnish. She never would have been good, but now she never will. Perhaps she could fight it. More likely she'll give up. The instrument's already become part of the wall.
It's betrayed her because she betrayed it. She hasn't played since the night before the morning she answered the phone. "Hey, Anna, this is ------. I don't want to tell you this, but I know you'd rather hear it from me." Why does that moment have to surface now? she wonders. She wants it to drown forever, to wither in the morning light until it's bleached away entirely. He and she belonged to the night.
Do you remember, Alex? This is the song I said that you would wish you had written. Find another feather for your fedora, because you did.
And all the memories of the fights and nights
Under blue lights and all the kites
We flew together
Love thought they'll fly forever
- The Libertines, "Music When The Lights Go Out"
posted by Anna at 11:03 PM
3 Comments:
*hug* Sounds like this summer has been rough on you. Wish there was something i could do to help. call if you need to talk. as you say i take on everyone's problems
Speaking of music... if you'd like to see me, i have a show on saturday... On Washington, downtown naperville, in the alley behind that restaraunt Catch Thirty-Five... 7:00-8:30 come and catch the show, this is an ivitation, once in a life-time chance the real thing... this is an ivitation, be there, or forever be a square
Rios
1. I am so pleased that somebody finally made a London Calling joke. (June 17)
2. I'll probably be in Wisconsin on Saturday. Calling to the faraway towns, indeed.
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