Ditty and Compositions

Wrote this little ditty as part of an assignment for my Creative Writing class. I got the idea for the repeating narrative from the insert of Genesis' "The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway."

---


Balancing the lukewarm styrofoam plate on my left forearm, holding an ice-filled glass in my left hand, jingling keys in my right, I opened the door. The base of it caught on the front after moving about an inch, so I kicked it, dislodging it and sending it swinging into a rats nest of cable on the floor. I crept in the dark room, still balancing the plate, and switched on the lights. A cart with amplifiers resting on it protruded from the wall on the left, a doorway on the right led into the still-unlit lounge. I walked forward to the cluttered desk and set down the plate and drink.

As the keys slid into my jeans pocket I progressed forward into the booth where I had left my backpack and newly purchased records. Sliders on a large black mixing board where rearranged, a three channel DJ mixer and Stanton direct-drive turntable were turned on. I reached for the punk plastic bag, "Record Theater" was printed on it in large black letters along side a clip art rendition of an old, turn-crank Victrola. Reaching inside I pulled out Journey's "Frontiers," original pressing from 1983. The cover, similar to all other Journey albums, had a very futuristic airbrushed look, this one in particular with a face in blue sporting a large helmet that one would think a spaceman from the future of 1983 would wear. The forehead seemed to stretch into itself like a tunnel, reaching beyond infinity through the record sleeve. Pulling out the inner sleeve, the bright neon pink paper the lyrics were printed on leapt out at me, a stark contrast from the dark aquatic blue of the cover. The vinyl itself was in good condition with the exception of one scratch (which didn't fortunately didn't affect the playback). I placed it onto the black felt slipmat and watched Steve Perry and his bandmates revolve around and around on the side one label, and proceeded to drop the needle on the groove with a resounding crackle.

As "Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)" came on I turned to grab my backpack, it's stray straps and frayed edges drooping over the chair. From it I pulled a bright yellow legal pad, white paper handouts sticking out from the back of it. I left the booth and was greeted by the greasy cheddar and pepperoni odor of my now less-than-lukewarm pizza sub that was previously teetering on my forearm. I moved to the lounge and slouched into a fairly ugly looking couch, it's 1970's woven patterns faded and riddled with bits of lint collected from years of use by DJ's of days gone by. Lying back with my head on one armrest and my PF Flyers propped on the other, I pulled a pencil from the pocket my keys were sharing, and began to write:

Balancing the lukewarm styrofoam plate on my left forearm, holding an ice-filled glass in my left hand, jingling keys in my right, I opened the door. The base of it caught on the front...

---

In other news, I've been doing a lot of work in Quartz Composer for my capstone project. Once I have some finished products done up I'll be sure to post some source files for those that are interested, and once the semester and project are completed, I'll post a compressed collection of all my work and notes building up to it (can you say open source book?).