| Sep. 18th, 2004 @ 10:44 am A Dose of Beauty...If You Ask Me |
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Current Mood:  discontent
Current Music: ...There's A Lawn Mower Outside
Ok...i'm not going to talk about my life right now cause I'd probably end up saying soething I don't mean
I just want to leave you with this thing I wrote. Is it's message corny? Yes. Is it well written? probably not. But like I say, I'm not responsible for any tiem you waste reading this journal. If you're really a cool person you'd leave a comment and tell me what you think of it.
I think I call it...'Beauty on the Corner of Bellman & 5th.'
The October air was cold and the heat from his lighter felt nice as he lifted it next to his face, lighting another damn cigarette. He exhaled, but the breezy air took the smoke away as soon as it came out of his mouth. He was just sitting on the curb, right there on Bellman Avenue, staring at the light from the gas station three blocks down the street. He felt horrible, and he didn’t look too good, either. His black hair was tossed all over his head and his green eyes looked tired. He was rubbing his hands together, trying to stay warm as the sun was going down. He’d left home in such a hurry he didn’t even grab a jacket. It was too cold to just sit there on the curb, so he got up and started walking down the sidewalk, towards the bright light of the gas station.
He didn’t want to think, but there wasn’t much else to do as he just walked down the sidewalk, watching cars go past every so often. He thought about the cigarette in his hand as he lifted it to his mouth again. He never would have smoked this time last year, but things have changed. A lot has changed, the more he thought about it. He got along with his parents, for one thing. They never fought as much, until his grades started to drop. That was another thing. He used to like going to school every day…but things had changed. He was still just a kid, but he didn’t much feel like it anymore.
The gas station was on the corner of Bellman and 5th Street. It was the only thing on 5th that was lit up at night, so it stuck out like a sore thumb even though it wasn’t completely dark yet. When he was two blocks away from 5th he heard music, faint and unidentifiable, but still he could here something. His best friend had played guitar when they used to hang out, but he moved to the city, so he never saw the guy anymore. He would always think about his friend when he listened to rock music on the radio. He thought about calling him a few times, but he could never find the number; or he always had something else to do.
Once he was only about a block away, he could here the music more clearly. It was obviously coming from up ahead of him, but he couldn’t tell what it was. He tried to look but he could barely see past Bellman and 5th. The gas station was on the right side of Bellman the way he was walking, on his side of 5th. On the left side of Bellman there were just houses. On the other side of 5th, there was a park on the left side, and a patch of trees on the right side. He thought about a girl he was with for a while. They weren’t serious or anything, they just hung out for a while about this time last year. Once when they were walking around town, the girl commented on the patch of trees on the corner. She talked about how beautiful the colors were in autumn and how nice it was to just stop and look at them when she walked past.
By the time he got to Bellman and 5th he finally saw where the music was coming from. In the park, caddy corner from the gas station, there was a man sitting on a bench with an instrument in his hand. He was just sitting in that old park bench under an oak tree, picking the strings and humming along here and there.
The kid crossed 5th Street and stood for a second on the corner, watching the man from a distance. He was a little old man, and he looked to be Italian or Greek or something. His hear was gray and he was wearing slacks that came up to his ankles. His instrument was small, with four strings which he plucked and strummed to make a great melody. He didn’t look like he had too much on his mind; he was just completely engrossed in his music. The kid didn’t even think the old man knew he was standing there.
“I like the way you play.” The kid finally said once he’d worked up enough courage to talk to the old man.
The music stopped and the old man looked up, noticing the kid standing on the corner. He stared at him for a moment, and then spoke in an old, tired voice.
“Why don’t you come have a seat, young man?” He said.
The kid walked into the grass of the little park and took a seat on the wooden bench next to the old man.
“The name’s Leo.” The old man said to the kid.
“I’m Jeff.” The kid told him in reply.
“D’you play?” The old man asked, holding the instrument out in front of him for Jeff to take.
“Oh, no.” He said, laughing just a little. “D’you smoke?” Jeff asked, feeling slightly uncomfortably with the situation.
Jeff pulled a half empty pack out of his back pocket and offered it to the old man. He thought of how ridiculous the situation was, and how he wished he’d never commented on Leo’s music.
“I smoked my share in the war…but I haven’t had one in a long time.” He said with a distant look in his face.
Jeff pulled his hand back and tried to put the pack back in his pocket, but Leo stopped him.
“That don’t mean I don’t want one.” He said, chuckling.
The old man took a cigarette from the pack, and Jeff put it back in his back pocket and gave Leo his lighter. The old man seemed very laid back, and was all at once more amiable and the situation was not as uncomfortable for Jeff.
“What is that you’re playing?” Jeff asked after the old man’s cigarette was lit and he picked his instrument up from his lap.
“It’s a mandolin. I picked it up in Europe during the war. No one really cares for it around here, but back on the Mediterranean the people loved to hear someone play.” He said.
He started to pick again, not really playing a melody but just sort of playing around with it. Jeff just sat for a while, smoking and listening to the old man’s music. He liked it. It made him feel like smiling just to see the old man’s hand jumping from string to string.
“You look troubled.” Leo finally said after a few minutes of just sitting there playing.
Jeff thought about it for a while. He was troubled, about lots of stuff. Everything was just…well, bad. He didn’t even know where to begin or what to say to the old man. He just sighed and continued with his cigarette. Leo just continued on his mandolin.
A few leaves fell from the oak tree next to the bench, and Jeff stared over across the street to the patch of woods. He didn’t know what to say or why he was still even sitting there. For a second he thought about walking back home, but his parents were probably still mad. He’d probably have to stay out ‘til late; or maybe even find a friend’s house to stay at. He was just so angry when he left that he didn’t think about all this stuff.
“What are you doing out here this late without a jacket on?” Leo asked after a few more minutes; mumbling with his cigarette wedged between his teeth.
“I got in a fight with my parents.” Jeff finally said. “I just had to get out of the house for a while.
Leo didn’t say anything, but just kept on playing. Now he was playing that song, the one Jeff had first heard as he was walking down Bellman Avenue. The sun had gone and the street lights had come on, so Jeff could still see the patch of trees across the street as his cigarette slowly burned down.
“You know why you stopped to talk to me, Jeff?” Leo asked, still playing and holding the cigarette in the corner of his mouth
Jeff thought about the question, and the truth was he really didn’t know. He really didn’t have a reason for stopping, or at least he didn’t know it. But the old man didn’t know it, either. Jeff thought he was being a little rude. But still, he thought of an obvious answer and went with it.
“I like your song.” He said plainly.
Leo stopped playing when Jeff said this. He pulled the cigarette out his mouth and tossed it onto the sidewalk so he could speak more clearly.
“And just as well,” He said. “It’s a beautiful song.”
Jeff was still staring at the woods across the street. He thought about that girl again, and how looking at the trees was beautiful, too.
“How do you know when something is beautiful?” Jeff asked after he thought about it for a long time. It was never really something he’d thought about before, but he couldn’t come up with his own answer.
“Well, people say beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” Leo said, now just sitting and looking at the trees with Jeff. “I suppose it’s just something you know, when you feel like there’s more to something than what you see or hear.”
Jeff didn’t say anything. He just stared at the trees under the streetlight, thinking about his life and how everything had changed. Things seemed like they were a lot better for him last year.
“I’ve been around for a long time.” Leo said as he shifted in his seat, looking Jeff in the eyes now. “There’s not really too much that a person can find beautiful, especially when life’s given you something you don’t want. I was three thousand miles from home in a war zone…but still when I heard one of these things being played, well it just lifted my spirits. I suppose what I’m trying to say…is that beauty is hard to understand and even twice as hard to find. So when you find something you can call beautiful, well…just don’t let go of it too easily.”
Jeff looked away from Leo and over to the gas station. He sat for a while savoring the last of his cigarette before it was done. He threw it out onto the street, and at that moment the old man got up.
“It’s dark.” He said. “I’ve got to be leaving, now. It was nice having a sit with you.”
“Yea.” Jeff said.
He wanted to say more, but he really didn’t know what. His cigarette had burned down to the hot, ashy end, so he tossed it onto the street.
Leo took his mandolin and walked away, down 5th Street. Jeff came around the next night to the corner of Bellman and 5th, but Leo wasn’t there. Jeff came almost every night that fall, and Leo never came back. Even so, Jeff would sit on the park bench for a while and look at the patch of trees across the street, and watch the leaves fall. |
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1more4joy's journal
uncomfortable
accomplished
awake
bored
sick
indescribable
silly
complacent
geeky
tired