My only thought is to somehow ease you from the grip of this death spiral that defines you. There are but two things capable of touching your darkly secreted soul and you continue to hold the first at bay. I could seduce you with ease, but I fear to introduce yet another complication. All that remains is music. The three of you have not played together since I joined your group, but the introduction of the new guitar rekindles interest and soon music is again a real presence in this dingy flat.

The band forms almost naturally, a development I did not foresee. It makes sense now, a way to release the massive reservoir of anger and pain, that horrible angst you could never express as anything other than self-destruction, but at the time it seemed little more than a lark, a distraction from the goals I hoped to achieve… for all of you.

Truly Dalene, it is for all three of you, but you are first amongst them. I may have held Aiko and Nefertiri in lesser regard as I began this madness, but they are not to be lightly dismissed. You love them for a reason and it becomes clearer with every passing day. Those inclined to worship Fate or the Providence of the Divine would see those powers at work in your meeting, but I understand better than most: you are much like me in some ways, for you draw others to you as they see there is more than what meets the eye.

Your anger fuels the muse, and its grip is tight upon us. We play to small crowds with instruments scavenged from any source we can find. People are amused, disgusted, or merely indifferent, but it is unimportant- the need to express what lies within is overpowering. I am so very accustomed to steering those who stray into my sphere I am astounded to realize this is nothing of me and all of you. You play your guitar and I feel your pain- I give it a voice, words you would never allow yourself to speak, words appalling to those many that prefer to view the world through a veil of civilized indifference. It is amusing for they view me as the unstable and violent one while all believe you are the calm center of our angry coterie.

We cannot escape our reality- Jacques demands we attend the duties he assigns us, but he is first and foremost a man of commerce and he sees opportunity in our performances. Our first real show, with decent instruments and a stage and an audience, comes at his behest in a back room performance at a club he owns. We perform topless, a twist lending a certain surreal flavour given the tales your music tells, and the night ends with us plying our given trade; yet it matters not a bit, for we have the taste of it now. We had them in our hands, even if only for a moment.

The more we play the more animated you become… and then comes the first of three fateful events.

Posted on August 25th, 2006 by Zsallia
Filed under: 1963 to 1967, The Past, Wounds Inflicted