It can be quite nice, actually.You meet beautifully aware people in smooth jazz/juice bars, who aren't blowing sour beer breath in your face,or otherwise reeking of alcohol.They don't get increasingly rowdy or belligerent,or start slurring their words,or falling around drunkenly.These are nice places, with atmosphere. Understated lighting,soft music,with pit groups and tables,beautiful art on the walls,without the clink of pool balls.One or two here or there might smoke, but for the most part, the air is clear,and moving softly,like a tropical breeze,sweetly scented.
His name was David.I met him tonight in just such a place.The music was background, not cranked up so that in order to have a conversation,you had to yell in someones ear.We talked about literature, philosophy,art and classical music.Then suddenly, it happened.The lighting altered, and the music came up just enough to alert us to a change,and conversation stilled. It started out with one clear clarinet,low at first,and then rising in pitch and volume, and everyone responded most appreciatively, because we all knew, it was RHAPSODY IN BLUE!" I nearly swooned. With chill bumps all up and down my arms, I couldn't help but close my eyes,and lean my head back, as the whole orchestra came in, and those two beautiful grand pianos had their say.Lord, what a moment! George Gershwin's most fabulous creation has always effected me that way. His genius blending of Jazz,blues,and classical music, I do believe will always be one of my most favorite pieces of music.It has no words, for there are no words necessary with this sound. It speaks to the heart.David obviously felt the same, for he said nothing throughout. In fact, no one spoke. It would have ruined the mood.It is hard to explain how a roomful of people can be so quiet, hanging on every sound issuing forth, stunned by it's emotional poetry/it's wordless perfection,hardly daring to breathe, much less talk, fearing they will miss a note,or a change in tempo, for Rhapsody takes us through many,and when it comes to the crescendo,a general soft sigh of regret goes up, that it is over,and then a burst of applause...a standing O! A sign of wordless appreciation, which is the only sort that is appropriate for Rhapsody In Blue.I opened my eyes, and applauded right along with everyone else, but I was looking into Davids eyes,and his mirrored my own.Glistening with tears, some stuck to his lashes,some trembling along the rim and at the corners,some overflowing onto his cheeks. I didn't know if he had closed his eyes at the time, but I knew he was just as caught up in the experience as I was,and that endeared him to me in a way that no amount of pretentious words could. Sharing something you love, with someone you've just met is the surest way I know to find out volumes about that person.And this was so uncontrived, so unexpected, that it was beyond mystical. It was a connection, spontaneously made, on a level so deep, and profound, it nearly defies explanation.It goes deeper than heart to heart, it goes almost soul to soul. In that moment, we might have just been caught up in the magic of the music, but when we spoke, all thoughts of that flew away.We had conversation that was unending,and unlimited.Everywhere our fancy took us, the other was there also. We weren't just waiting for the other one to stop speaking so we could talk. We were listening,and responding.We spoke of love,and heartbreak, pain and joy, Beauty was in our thoughts and on our lips, and there was no end to the shift of emotions, from laughter to tears,and to our mutual delight, there was no mention of the baser sort of banal conversation. No cursing or cussing, no mention of ugliness or war or politics. And even though I looked at him for hours, I couldn't tell you if he had a clear complexion, or if his hair was straight or curly, or even if he was fat or thin.It didn't matter.I watched his face for the play of emotion across it as he spoke,his hair framed his face, that's all.I know he was clean,for his skin gleamed,and his personal scent was clean and sweet. We talked until my stomach rumbled,and he heard it.We looked around, and were taken aback by the fact that so few others remained.When had they gone? We didn't know.We had one more drink.Mine was ice water. His, iced tea. I will always recall how sweet that water tasted, tonight.Although filled with personality, how self-less and without guile or manipulation, our talk.At the end, I drove him home.It was shocking to realize that we lived on the same acre of land.His house was the big one, and mine,the smaller one, at the end of the road.We laughed about it, when we became aware that his father was my landlord...as well as his.
Then, I went home, alone, without even a kiss,and that too, was sweet.I came in to my quiet home, greeted by solitude,and silence,my thoughts filled with his words,and the music we had shared, and then my attention was taken away from the deep joys I was re-living, by an annoying sound. The furnace was going nuts.It was blowing hard, for no reason. I reset it, and suddenly, I was being blasted by cold air. I thumped on it, but my pounding it solved nothing.
That's when I woke up, realizing that my fan was set on high, and I was shivering.
Yes, it was a dream. An absolutely beautiful,lovely, gorgeous dream,in which everything was real, but David.Yet, perhaps, there is a David, somewhere, out there, and I just haven't met him yet...
OUI?
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