Monday, February 05, 2007

GBA(s)FC Entry #19

Vision Thing
by Basest

If it wasn't for what happened later, I would be surprised if I remembered anything about that night. It had started out as a rather unremarkable evening--just another gig in another bar like every other bar. As usual, I got there first, not out of any sense of responsibility (although I knew that everyone else would be late), but rather because I wanted some time to just sit alone and knock back as many drinks as it would take to get me to get on stage and pretend to give a shit about the songs that had once meant so much to me. I didn't even tell the bartender/soundman ( was that kind of place) that I was with the band. And like every other bartender, every other night in every other bar, he wouldn't realize that guy playing the bass was the same dude who had warmed a stool for the previous hour or so and left him a very reasonable tip.

The truth is, the band was crap. Oh, the songs were good. They played their instruments well. The small, but committed group of fans and bar patrons seemed to be into it. And they were all reasonably good-looking guys. But I could see better than anyone there, from my perch on the barstool farthest away from the stage. There was no energy connecting them. This is part of my gift--I can see people's light. I'm especially drawn to collaborative energy--fact is, I get my own little light show whenever I go see a band play. And when a band is really connected, it is spectacular. A-fucking-mazing! Hell, I saw the Rolling Stones play during a time when Mick and Keith weren't even talking to each other, but it was still there. That connection. But without that connection, I don't care how good the songs are--it's still crap. And that's what these guys were like. But I took a look at that bass player and saw that his light was looking for a connection. And I knew he was ready.

About halfway into the second set, I noticed her. She suddenly came into focus and everything else blurred. And it just seemed right, that this dangerously beautiful woman with the inscrutable expression existed only for me, and I existed only for her. She was worshipping at my altar and I was playing for her pleasure. When the stage lights went down she disappeared into the darkness before the house lights came back up. I went through the usual motions of packing up my gear while my band mates held court with some of the usual giggling girls. I left without a word, wondering where she had gone, and if I had invented her. She stepped out of the shadows as I was stowing my gear. I went with her. She made me what I am, and gave me the sight. And tonight, I saw you.

So what we're asking you is, are you ready to see?


Unknown said...

This story was one of my choices. I thought there were some great touches in here with an ending that left a question that remained long after. Stories that don't 'tell all' will always get my vote. Thank you

basest said...

you are much too kind. personally, i discovered that 500 words really makes one have to choose words very carfully. my writing tends to meander quite a bit, so i had to trim a lot of fat to get it to fit. Glad you liked it.

Unknown said...

I would agree with that statement - I tend to prefer about 100,000 words myself, but that is not to say that you still don't have to trim a lot of fat!
Funny how I also like the extreme distillation of poetry.