Here and now

On Scott's balcony. Wine glass in hand. Scott’s sitting at his baby grand stroking its keys like he was making love to it; You know a girl could get use to living like this i said over my shoulder in his direction. He chuckled and  said I imagine so. But it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. People always want more than they are willing to give back. As long as you fit their needs you will always be in their circle. Once your usefulness is depleted they move on. If you stay around here long enough you will see that this town is filled with vampires.

Do you see the moon reflecting off of that river down  there? he asked as he changed the tempo.

Yes i said

Thats the Cumberland. Its filled with tears of the broken dreams and ruined lives. He told me as he dumped his glass of wine over the balcony rail. I do that from time to time  to show appreciation to the Ron Copplers of the world . He walked back into his house on the hill, sat down at the piano, and started to play.Hey, MJ. He yelled Do you see that faint light on that far off ridge he said as he pointed off  into the darkness . I walked back in through the double hung glass doors and said yes vaguely. Over the soft melody that the keys were producing he started to talk to me.

Vaguely...   thats a good word. No the importance of that light is  that it made this God forsaken town. The call letters WMS really put it on the map.

Now its  a different world. You cant find the music like it was then. It all sounds the same.  That Nashville sound that everyone in the industry decided to force feed us is yesterday leftovers warmed up. Realistically this town is one song away from being bulldozed. Collaborations, cross overs , and country rap have committed murder on music row. Money not music fuels this concrete jungle. When I was 11 you could walk around Watkins Park and hear music, now its silent. Theres more sounds on broadway then any other neighborhood. 16th Avenue  and Treamont was once where it all happened. Layered with sound instead of the real deal. A studio session then would be a room full of musicians like Gust Coppola, Marshal Grant, Lyn Perkins, Alan Wolfe, and Bub Bryant. Now its just a bunch of machines; with technicians. Laying down tracks instead of actually getting people together to perform them. Hell, the whole process is flawed. When the singer and band don't have to be in the same room let alone the same town, its time to rethink the processIt took me years to figure out why it was willie and waylon not Jennings and cash. It was because cash got clean. Im damn sure Herrium didn't do it this way. He rubbed out his cherry,  flicked his cigarette into the darkness, caressed my cheek as he walked back into the house and said " Thanks for listening to me. Tawnia set up the guest bedroom just incase i had company." Its all about the money and fame. We have all forgotten what its like to honky tonk and be just shy of our raisin Scott went rambling on.

I stand there a few minutes longer, looking into the darkness, watching that blinking light on that distant radio tower. Ive been in this town for six months and have never really paid that much attention to it. So involved in my own head that not even the littlest things mean anything.  The nights are peaceful out here. Close enough to work but yet far enough out that the city lights dont block out the stars. I have not looked at the night sky in some time. Never really felt like looking up.

I found  my way to the guest room. As described. There was such a grand aura to the room. A  King size bed Took center stage. On either side there were matching night stands both with matching lights . I’m not accustomed to fancy and delicate. The girls I live with are as bad as a bunch of men.  I really need to go their and get some more clothes possibly, stay a couple of nights. Let them know I’m still alive and live there. I just shut my eyes and now the alarm is going off. This bed is so comfortable and I am not sure if I have any better reason to stat in. I rub my eyes and get up anyway. I heard thunder and saw lightning without looking away  from the mirror. The drive I want achieve just isn’t there anymore. The true definition of insanity is doing the same thing, all day, everyday and expecting a different result. I must be a true lunatic for wanting to step closer to that ledge. My friends, I use that term loosely, all tell me that the path I am on is the right one to be on. I look at yesterday and today and really doubt their ability to make defined, precise decisions for they  are on the same path as I am. No one will ever tell you the ladder to success is attached to a slide. I talk to my self because no one else will listen. Scott is starting to and he is coming around to my ideology. He’s been hurt just like me. With his position he just can’t get to trust anymore. He said he didn’t know who was their for the money or who is there for him any more . I finish my makeup, put on my cleanest pair of jeans and shirt, run the brush through my dingy hair, and then make my way into the kitchen to get my flats. On the counter by the fridge was a note:

Signed SP with a wiggle. It read Before Both of us  get caught in a loop of wanting more but enjoying less. I need to tell you MJ that I really enjoy your company and you have earned a couple days off.  Call me then and we will get a meeting set up to discuss your ideas with the board of trustees