03 September 2010

Love Song, pt 2

He asked how the show went. I was surprised, but I answered that it went great, that the crowd loved it—especially the girls in front. He said something that sounded like “naww” and leaned back into the sofa, but not before scooping a handful of almonds. He flicked one into his mouth and chewed slowly as his mind chewed and ticked and thought and processed. After chewing for a bit he sighed staring at the ceiling and said, “Missed a few changes here and there.”

I was profuse in my defense of him, but he raised his unoccupied hand in retort. This wasn't his “first rodeo, kid,” and he didn't expect people to “sugar-coat” their opinions of his performance. In any case, another almond found its way into his mouth, which chewed patiently its snack.

Here was the man who toured all 50 states in the same year; who wrote love songs that got women old and young to swoon with delight; whose ingenious chord progressions and innovative melodies got musical academics as excited as the women. Here was a true music man, a true folk artist, a true hero to so many boys who would grow up pretending to emit his soothing baritone and woo some lady fair.

Only, this last bit was not the case. Not that he was a loner by choice or on principle. This great singer, great musician, great man, simply could not pick up a woman to save his life.

Three or four almonds flew into his mouth, and this time he chewed them quickly, forcefully. Somehow he needed to make a connection between the romantic musical genius inside and the speech center in his brain. I wanted to help.

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