I have come up with a method for writing melodies. I found a conlang online cald Eaiea, based on musical tones, using all 12 in the chromatic scale. Lately I’ve wanted to compose songs for May, and I believe this might work: take a phrase or line of poetry of hers, translate it into Eaiea, and then tinker with the resulting melody & build chords under it using what I’ve learned so far in Theory. Tonight I pickt something she sent me over the break:
weeping willows all over. wild poppy.
radiation temperature inversions.
daffodil lets and supercells.
Hopefully it’ll work, and sound nice.
Saturday Jordan came over & we went up to Centennial Park to chill. Ellen from Michigan was in town, and Jordan wanted to see her. They have been corresponding online (much like May & I have) and he has developt an interest in her. We hung around the park for a bit, ate at the McDonald’s there, then cald Jeremiah to get the go-ahead to head to Echo Hollow.
When we arrived Ellen wasn’t there yet. She & Jeremiah have been friends since high school, and he seems to regard her highly—talks about her as tho she’s “one of the dudes” at least. I showed him the racist button we found; he actually recognized it! He cald his mom into the kitchen & showed it to her. She went digging in the cupboards next to the refrigerator, puld out a seald bag with old packets of Funny Face drink mix, the original line-up including two flavors—Chinese Cherry & Injun Orange—before they were changed to less offensive names. “Dawrlin I’ve held own to these for years,” she said. “Thought they might be worth somethin some day, but nuh-ope! They’re jus a reminder of how far we’ve come.”
One of Sean’s songs that we still play is cald “Honest Engine”—which is a pun on that derogatory term found in stuff like Huckleberry Finn & antique powderd drinks. It is among our best. In that instant I knew what to name the new band: Engine Orange. I didn’t say anything yet, tho.
Ended up having to fucking drive all the way back down to Nashville, to Elliston Place where Katie (Kaboom) lives, and where Jeremiah will soon live, in order to meet up with this girl Emily (l’indifferent, friend of Tabitha) and also to find bud. Wanderd around the block while waiting on that—had a shot or two of Long Island Ice Tea, a beer from Katie’s fridge, and a cup of coffee from Café Coco, in that order. Finally we acquired a dime bag from some guy in Katie’s apartment building, then headed back to Hendersonville. I rode with Emily to give directions; she seems cool. Ellen was waiting on Jerry’s mom’s porch with Ceejay when we puld up. At first I thought “Oh cool, Ceejay’s here too.” Then I recald how much he & Jordan get on each other’s nerves. And my fears were justified: Ceej treated poor Jordan like dogshit all night, right in front of Ellen. She & Jordan barely even spoke. I felt so bad for him—& I was pist at Ceejay but, coward that I am, couldn’t bring myself to stick up for Jordan in front of Jeremiah & the E-girls. Don’t know what’s the matter with me. Spose I felt like it wasn’t my place, as a guest in someone else’s house, to confront him? Every time I opend my mouth, nothing came out. And why wasn’t Jerry saying anything, huh?
We get high in the bonus room, save for Emily—and then, in a similar scenario to Halloween Eve with me on J’s electric instead of my bass, we three begin to play a sort of medley of Neo-Fugitive & August Fools’ tunes. It sounds rough but with a little imagination could easily be at home on Sub Pop in the ’90s: think acid grunge, cross-pollinated with (dare I say it?) Midwest emo—as if sprung up in Seattle, then carried across the Rockies on the jet stream to smaller interior spots like Omaha & Champaign-Urbana, before dribbling its way down here to settle in Music City, U.S.A. a full decade later, in mutated form. God, is this really fucking happening?
Before long, whaddaya know, he approximates the opening riff to “Honest Engine” on the acoustic, smiling over to me from his corner; an invitation. I start plucking away at the correct tempo, Ceej providing the kick-drum thumps, and Jeremiah just sings, testing out the lyrics for us: “We are now in the terminal days/ The last generation of the maze…”
Jordan’s right, he is the best singer out of us all. This song never sounded so good. He puts the full force of his voice behind the last part, a volume Sean could never quite reach:
we’ll keep you updated & informed
as this drama unfolds…
and RE-FOLDS
With that, my frustration disappears, and I feel OK again. Interpersonal conflict be damned. A prayer has been lifted up, secretly, in the music itself. This is the band I’d want to be in. I knew, in spite of the story nearing its cataclysmic end, we’d be telling & re-telling it for a while to come, echoing thru the hills of this wasted state like a motor revving down the pike…
Then Jordan & I drove home in silence, save for the music on the radio.