The Violin Commenter

So I was on this youtube video listening to these beautiful different violins and at the end he says the one with the best comment will win this over 100,000$ in worth violin. So here was my entry:

The violin is an instrument with few that can tame. It is a marvel to listen to when played by the right hand. And those who can are given much deserved respect for playing the daunted thing.
In 6th grade I think or 8th maybe I went home smiling, expectant. I had a form in my hand that I handed and I made the case to my parents about why I wanted to play an instrument in school, sure they’d nod and say yes, that’s a fine thing to do. When they said no, I was surprised and confused. They told me how they couldn’t afford to rent an instrument, back and forth both parents making point after point on this. I had not thought of that till then, the expense of the instrument. I agreed and went to play outside, the hot sun shining on my face as i grabbed a ball. I thought, I’m not going to play an instrument at school. And I’m probably not going to see if I am really very good. My family won’t come to my performance, surprised that I really could play, that I really was talented, looking at me different afterwards. With respect.
That year several of my friends were in music class all with a different instrument. I was jealous. Like a piece from a puzzle I couldn’t figure out, it didn’t make sense why they were allowed to play, and their parents would go and see and be proud of them. But I swallowed this feeling also, and played in the sun, as that didn’t cost a thing.


Afterwards: It’s been a few weeks and the 100,000$ + violin has not come to me. So I assume someone else has won. I guess since I have never played (or probably not even held an actual violin), that’s probably fair.



A Place in Your Arms

What Place do you remember?

I remember being in your arms. real or imagined. Tanned, strong, warm. The fire is crackling and popping in front of us and you are whispering me how much you love me in my ear as I grin. Sound moves the air around me and tickles my ear and neck. Warm. It feels so nice as you play with my arm, creating the gentlest circles, carving paths there. But I know in the back of my mind not to believe you. Though I have no reason to think this. Because I know you are probably a great person. You seem like you are. Something about how nice you feel, makes my mind riot in believing. But the glass of wine, and the gentle rhymic cracle of the fire humming through the air, and the strong arms coiling me tighter, turns off my fighting reflex. And I start to sink instead.

I feel myself falling asleep, gentle sounds, feelings, smell around, and those words still on the tip of my thoughts, you repeating them over and over like a chant to me as I drift down lower and lower. And I am going down, till i find am in water with seaweed in my mouth and hair and I’m spitting it out, salt. And looking about.
Bluish water, pebbles underfoot, and watery flowy plants.

And then I rise a moment later, and I pull up out of it, and wake up back in the apartment. And you are gone. I put on my flip flops and wander out into the apartment tentatively looking around. But I am met with empty corners instead. I am going outside without a thought on it, the feel of the cold air, and smell of the smog both hitting me at once, the loud honking and engines on the side of me. People walk and push past me, and look angrily at me cause I won’t get out of their way. And I walk like this. In this haze. Where did you go. I keep looking as if on a beach, if I keep at it I will find it. The treasure with golden blocks inside.

But there the streets wind like a maze that I am too tired to pursue. And so I sit on a bench next to a man rolling a cigarette. I put my head in my hands and I cry. I wanted so much for that dream to be true.