6
Long Night II: The Modern Orpheus

His guitar suspended on his shoulder, Alex stretches out his hands in a way suggestive of a ritualistic session, muttering inaudible words, before raising up his right arm and extending it outward, as if trying to pluck something in the air.... Jay's metaphorical apple. He restores his grip on his stringed instrument, looking on with a determined soul and an expressionless face. He wields an Archtop guitar, also known as the "Jazz box", which is rather odd for a rock performer like himself. An Archtop is a steel-string acoustic guitar with a big soundbox, arched top, violin-style f-holes, a "floating bridge" and magnetic or piezoelectric pickups. It is his favorite instrument, his trademark equipment, even though it is more commonly found among Jazz performers due to its suitability for their musical genre. He sees it as a way of selling his own uniqueness and expressing his maverick nature and lack of conformity. Of his four band mates assembled behind him, standing stone-faced in front of their respective tripod microphone stand, two wield a harp and violin respectively, while the two others both wield the more rock-oriented solid-bodied electric guitars, both of whom are already plucking the strings of their instruments in preparation for their murderous performance.

Alex's dexterity with his guitar is quite similar to Orpheus' skill with his lyre. Orpheus was a legendary figure in ancient Greek myth, the son of Calliope, mother of the Muses (the nine goddesses of the arts and sciences), and Apollo himself, god of light, music and reason. Orpheus played the lyre in a way that enchanted everything that heard his music. Trees and rocks would move closer to him, rivers would stop in their path to listen, and the storm of turbulence in the wild animal's soul would be made calm. People at war would drop their weapons and embrace peace. Similarly, Alex has a way of playing his guitar that gets into people's souls and imposes silence. When not performing with his treasured instrument, he carries it on his back like an Asian warrior heading out for battle. And, indeed, he has committed numerous metaphorical murders with the dances of his magical fingers on solid strings, and, on one occassion, a literal one too; when one of his music teachers dropped dead when he heard him play in one of the classes for the music course he took while in Cambridge.

Alex played his guitar at a frequency that resonated with the old English man's soul, resulting in a fatal effect of his Stendhal Syndrome; a psychosomatic disorder named after the 19th century French novelist, Stendhal, who fainted after visiting Florence's Basilica of the Holy Cross (Santa Croce), full of masterpieces by the likes of Giotto. Stendhal Syndrome is a "disease" that targets art lovers and represents a kind of overdosing on too much beauty. It causes a rapid heartbeat, chest pains, dizziness, hallucinations and usually concludes with the victim fainting. It's also known as hyperkulturemia {meaning "an excess of culture in the blood"}. It actually led to the unfortunate death of the poor man. When asked what he thought of the tragic occurrence, Alex described it as a beautiful moment of art, and stated his belief that the man must have gone to heaven. As he joins his band mates in strumming his guitar, he scans the club through rapid high movement, wondering if someone here tonight will be going to heaven.

The band launches their attack on the house. This time around, they won't be performing any of their own songs. They have come to pull a John Lennon on everyone here. The performance of John Lennon's song Gimme Some Truth explodes into action.

I'm sick and tired of hearing things
From uptight, short-sighted, narrow-minded hypocritics
All I want is the truth
Just gimme some truth
Ive had enough of reading things
By neurotic, psychotic, pig-headed politicians
All I want is the truth
Just gimme some truth

No short-haired, yellow-bellied, son of tricky dicky
Is gonna mother hubbard soft soap me
With just a pocketful of hope
Money for dope
Money for rope

...............

I'm sick to death of seeing things
From tight-lipped, condescending, mamas little chauvinists
All I want is the truth
Just gimme some truth now

I've had enough of watching scenes
Of schizophrenic, ego-centric, paranoiac, prima-donnas
All I want is the truth now
Just gimme some truth

....................

Ah, I'm sick and tired of hearing things
From uptight, short-sighted, narrow-minded hypocrites
All I want is the truth now
Just gimme some truth now

I've had enough of reading things
By neurotic, psychotic, pig-headed politicians
All I want is the truth now
Just gimme some truth now

................

He performs with much passion and ferocity. Each word, each line, accompanied by a sign, a gesture of contempt, directed at the audience, with the intention to get them riled. He wants them to think, to feel, to burn. The music is more than just the lyrics. His body language, his glare, their meanings, they all scorch. The COLORLESS BLUE BAND throws pebbles of vitriol that beam with gloom. The dancing fingers pluck apples from vibrating strings and feed the audience with fatal music.

Jay observes the situation with glee. Alex's music has the same magical and beguiling effect as Hitler's Oratory powers. But it works only on the weak-minded and suggestible, which is the psychological weakness Jay wants to test the Red Room ritual participants for.

He can already see the gloomy effect it's having on them from their facial expressions indicating that they're spiritually lost. It brings back memories of their deepest fears. The present situation of the club would have been described as being trapped in the devil's room, if they had not just returned from a communion with Lucifer himself. Jay observes them both in disappointment - falling short of his expectations of them as veterans of the Red Room - and delight - seeing the opportunity to get rid of their psychological inadequacies, take credit for their spiritual liberation, and get the elevation he so desperately craves.

Jay observes his energetic friend and smiles. Cursing the elites is not the only thing Alex is good at afterall. His skill with the guitar and overall musical talent are second to none. He might have failed at school, but he's quite extraordinary at what he does. Yet, was he really a failure at the University? He had always been the archetypal musician, right from childhood; his fascination with musical instruments, his obsession with church because of them at the time, even though he's now an atheistic Marxist. His parents wanted him to have a bright future, but as a prestigious Lawyer, not a low-class musician. He studied Law at his parents' behest, but being the rebellious one, he focused on something else, his true calling. He wanted to do Soul Music, the music of light that dispels the darkness, the symphonies of justice. He needed neither a Law degree nor a University to accomplish that. He believed himself to have come down from heaven with a PhD in Law. The Laws of life and the Constitution of the world were written in his veins. Who needs a University?

It was because of this very orientation that Tomilola left him for Jay who placed no importance on the Bro Code that prohibited him from having a romance with the ex-girlfriend of his close friend. His anger toward Jay seemed to have died when she left Jay too, because he became destitute. Despite this, there's always this tense atmosphere between the two men, a communication between their souls, a spiritual exchange that their tongues and mouth can't convey. And while he has no grouse with Alex's activism and secretly considers him a fraud seeking relevance, he doesn't know what his friend thinks of his very own ambitions, which he knows Alex is very much aware of. Perhaps, if his revolution succeeds he'll have Jay sent to the guillotine alongside the filthy elite, having the sweet revenge his silence has always whispered, but that he never really talked about.

As Alex continues his performance and screws with the minds of his audience, Jay hears a familiar voice that attracts his attention.

"This guys must be joking". A fair lady in sultry dress. Almost no make-up, save for the blue paint on her lips, and her well-drawn eye-brows. Her cleavage glints, with the flesh exposed in her mammary region suggesting the perfect boobs. She is wearing a short gown exposing her laps, hanging over her right shoulder, and falling to the side of her left. Jay catches a glimpse of her wedge and wonders how tall she would be when she stands. Her eyes catch his, and upon taking a closer look, a realization struck him.

"You again?"

Obinnau & Divepen1

Thanks a lot guys! My post was restored and my account unbanned.

But it got deleted and I got banned again just now when I tried to edit it.

Obinnau, Divepen1

I posted an update of my story just a moment ago, but I got banned by the anti-spam bot.

Can you help me look into it? I'm planning to repost the update with this moniker, but I want to be assured that the same thing won't happen if I do that.

The banned moniker is Haywhaie. If there's anything you can do about it, kindly do it asap. Thank you.

zinnyzee:
Okay.

Make it snappy.

I just posted it, but anti-spam got me.

Haywhaie has been banned.

I want to know what caused the ban before I repost it with this one, otherwise, I may get banned on this one as well, and since this is the last of my monikers, there will be no updates if it gets banned.