THE RED VIOLINIST CHAPTER ONE AND TWO06:32 Dec 29 2008
Times Read: 556
#The Red Violinist
By William Levenberg
Author note :
All characters and events are fictitious. The characters stories are based around the life of the author with some creative freedom. The author himself experienced some of the events; some of the events and characters were edited to protect the rights of the innocent. Some events were distorted and made up to make this book a work of fiction.
Prologue:
No music , no substance:
Envision a world without music. Is it even possible? No music on MTV or Myspace, no more orchestras, no more swing dances and big bands.
A perfect world without the constant , yet annoying, city life as it roars and echoes as cars beep their horns and constructions crews yell and argue.
While In this city, I pictured a strong woman controlling a jackhammer as it destroys the concrete surface. As my favorite band, Sum41 once said “I tried to be perfect but nothing was worth it, I do not believe it makes me real.” As I struggled, I wrote this, as I wrote this, I wondered, the more I wondered, the more music played a factor in human life.
But life is not perfect as Sum41 describes in one of their songs. A clichéd saying once said Music equals life, as I wondered a bit it really does.
ONE: wasted
“And it's all too familiar
and it happens all the time.”
“All the cards begin to stack up twisting heartache into fine
little pieces that avoid an awful crime, but it's you I can't deny.”
(“You I can't deny.”)
“Taking back Sunday”
“My Blue Heaven”
“Louder now.”
Reality bites:
Life is a complex reality. Every reaction has a flip-side or Reverse reaction where In my case it was usually worst than the original reaction. All in all ,It was a typical weekend for me.
I Was up on the Emo-rocker scene of course, me being twenty-Five and married, it was the only way to relax by going clubbing And stuff. However, I was considered too old, even though I know How to play the simplest songs to the metal pain of guitar, And know how to make the best of things.
God or faith what have you must of change it. It all started when I was playing a show, at a punk bar in the middle of long island, it was show time. The metal screams of guitar arose through the air; the bar was filled up with teenagers and adults.
They were entertained by mosh-ing in the mosh pit. Mosh-ing was the art of dance and fighting social injustices and differences people faced in life through heavy hardcore metal music which in return, usually turned violent. The irony of it all was that the kids who were mosh-ing felt victimized by society. But here they are dancing violently to heavy metal music. Kids were kicking, screaming, shouting at random people. And because of this the police usually broke up the bands for promoting self autonomy and non-conformism.
Some of the previous bands played songs that were so ironic such as “blame no one but yourself” and “peace and love for all.” I don’t hurt myself for suicide just to show you I care.”
It's funny looking back at time and how it stares back at you, if you want to know my life story, I worked for a small music store. My "dream" was to become a professional musician instead doing shows in bars but bars of magical music.
I wanted to envision myself playing for my hometown. Or at least something other then bars. But that’s how life turns out. I wasn’t perfect, as a kid I had problems, and The only dream and goal I had was playing for The Boston Symphony Orchestra or Even farer away from home, New York.
After the show the band members dabbled in pot or coke. I promised my wife I wouldn't do it again. As usual I drank instead, the alcohol filled my stomach by the time I was out the door I was drunk. I hobbled a little but I was all right.
I don't remember who I gave my keys to. In some strange way, I got home back in the city. I fell into bed next to my wife. That night, the complex of my nightmares had just begun.
The next day the alarm didn't ring, so I slept in, the street roared an echo that awoke me up. My wife had ready left, when I looked at the time it was already eleven AM.I rushed into the shower I didn't know what today was, so I assume it was Monday. I wash my long black hair; I wash my body, and got dressed in my blue ripped jeans and black infamous straight-jacket that I got as a birthday present. I was truly a scene kid ready for work.
So I ran out the door and down the block to the small music store that was trying to compete with Sam Nash and other big named music stores, it was a mom and pops type of store where many people knew my boss because of his crazy deals.
"Your late." He roared.
"I know." I said putting the guitars carefully on the guitars racks where other people tried to play them.
Then a small chubby kid came into the store, he was with his mother. He was about thirteen. I remember when I was his age.(damn, I’m getting old.) He picked up a black and white bass guitar that the mother couldn't afford.
"Mommy I want this one" he wined.
"Mommy can't afford this" she said looking at the price. “It’s about three hundred dollars." She roared back.
"I want the guitar" he screams with velocity and annoyance. She pick it up, went over to the counter and pulled out her credit card. I quickly swiped it through the scanner, it's said denied. I knew she couldn't afford it, but the spoiled child look onward as I ask the manager for help ,I tried to scan the credit card once more. The lady looked down at her feet and sighed out of embarrassment. Looking at her face, it seem that she was a working class person that struggled with the hardships of music and the reality of living in a world that you cant afford anything. I been there a couple of time especially when I was young I resorted to going to pawn shops and thrift shops to look for parts for my various assortment of musical instruments and stuff that was broken. I put the guitar back in the used bin and showed her where she Could find all the used guitars, I knew it was unethical, sue Me, the kid saw the same guitar and he didn't know it was used. maybe I felt bad for the kid , I didn’t know what drove me to do that.(All I know is that god works in mysterious ways.)
"It was sixty percent off used guitars today." "That would Be A hundred and fifty dollars please."
The credit card passed through the scanner perfectly, with no problems.
"Thanks", she said as the kid held the guitar case like it Was a dog on a lease. The door close as the bell rang over the door. Christen code, The stuck up annoying boss (I hated him,) came from the back of the office on the other side of the room; it was about a three weeks before Christmas vacation. I almost had enough for that cruise you see on the TV.
"I have bad news ladies and gentleman, our sales figures had been through the roof this month, but we got to fire someone." He preached onward not caring about others. He was more concern about his well being. That was understood but, I didn’t like when people cared about themselves.
"Laura ,since you hasn't been here in couple of months you're getting a promotion." I felt like I deserve the promotion because I bring in more sales(,illegally of course.)
“Thank you” she said kissing up to him.
"What the …?" I questioned in head, I keep all my thoughts in there. I save the good one liners for myself. that’s how I get by in my intricate days.
"Oh yea I forgot Michael your fired." "Clean out your desk." He calmly like I never existed.
"Ok, what?" I said trying to get a firm hold of reality.(,which I never had.)
"Your -f-i-r-e-d. He said imitating and motioning like a mentally handicapped person. "Just go..."
"Why I am I fired" I yelled at the top of my lungs Throwing guitars around and making a scene which was Ironic because I was a scene kid. So after incident with the Guitars and I didn't want to know the reason why I was fired because that form of unhappiness, just happens to me. To the bar I went, the show wasn't until nine, but I got free drinks anyway so I didn't really care, I tried to escape the world for awhile.
unfortunately , somebody I knew was there , my mentor who was a teacher that I knew since middle school, He was the only orchestral teacher in Boston that ever understood me. I was a weird kid , I'm still weird but kind of grew up since then, I sat next him his name was Franz- Ferdinand like the band. I called him frank for short, he was pissed that I failed every class and not orchestral, in grade school. He had this sort of this symbolic like teaching its goes like this:
“you can achieve and believe if you can pass the class, (or classes in my case,) in return you would create a balance that would help in the music world."
I didn't know what he said back then but it helps me a lot. He called me a failure ever since middle school. I don't hate people but I wouldn't mind kicking his ass. Then I realized and rationalized that violence is to stupidity as stupidity is to lack of common sense. I know I should have been an English teacher because I think creatively and form metaphors in my mind.
"Michael my boy, how are you" he said like he cared once, but I guess people change.
"I am Doing great, I guess, could be better." "Say can I buy you a drink."
"I listened to your CD, it was Ok, and you were screaming half the CD, so I had to turn it off, but it was okay."
"Well that was um nice of you to say but I kind of understand your point of view I guess." I lied of course I knew what he meant. He meant he didn’t like it because he’s conservative.
"So how life", he asked as the bartender filled his shot glass with bourbon, as the bar scene went loud with food and drinks like a restaurant but, less boring.
"Well life is a ever changing experience in an irregular world." I replied helplessly.
"That's nice, you were that kind of a person that failed and got up off the ground." "What did you do now?" he asked bluntly, with a sound of unforgiving taste of hatred.
"Well just got fired from this music store." I tried to explain. When I did, words fell short of what I had to say.
"It was Minimum wage right?" he attacked with words that could of started a war of who’s more bitter.
"Yeah sort of." "Still teach?" I responded with a quick temperate angry tone.
"Yeah." He said as The first of the Bourbon shots went down. There were a lot in the time that we met at the same bar.
"I had a silly dream once of becoming a professional violinist or bassist for some orchestral." "Sadly it was a Dream.” I said starting to get drunk.
"A dream is a dream you should chase after them like clouds in the sky." the old man poetically spoked. He either lost his mind or previously was drunk to begin with. My teacher, got up and started to make it out the door; he had to teach a class. It was about four o‘ clock , when I nearly miss hitting the bar room door, I walked to my apartment , an eviction notice was stuck in between the door and the door hinge, I heard movement in my apartment that's odd I said to myself. Michelle doesn't get home , until seven. I quickly unlocked the door.
I was drunk, I stumbled into the living room to the bedroom door , Michelle was home alright ,but she was in bed with a coworker from work, who I learned later, who had my car and got pulled over by the cops, and my car is somewhere on auction I didn't care. I didn't know him. I closed the door I fell on the couch. I fell asleep it was a long day. by the time I woke up it was a quarter to eight , a note was left on the table . I read it over and over until it equilibrium stuck into my mind.
Dear Michael :,
You were a good husband but I had fallen in love with this guy who is handsome and Swear, he was brad Pitt cousin, I supported you with you your music, but I had enough of you leaving in the middle of the night, so I am going to live in Las Vegas. Where we are going to get married in one of those chapels like our little Dream remember I left the rent money on the nightstand that's should cover you , for awhile.
Bye for now Love Michelle.
My soberness awaken from a deep sleep, As I got ready for my show at the bar in Greenwich Village, it was a typical night again with less drugs and drinks, more Emo-ness. The rooftop slathers, my band played eight songs Straight, which was overtiring ,and annoying because the Lead guitarist didn't show. It was me, Slamming Sammy, “rock Brock” Roxie it was us guys and the girl who had a crush on me since high school , who was married to two husbands who high maintenance cause them to stress out and runaway. she wasn’t perfect, she was the drama queen of the three of us. She was beautiful, because of her beauty she won prom queen of '95 , I was the average Joe who believe what she was doing was wrong and I said she should stop, and I won class “bitch” of '95 , I was never popular in high school , but she liked me anyway , I should of gave her a chance or like the kids today say it , I would of hit that. But I didn't, we became the greatest friends, Sammy was her first actual friend in the reality of the stuck-up high school. Sammy was also my only black friend. It wasn’t my fault that I grew up in a white suburban town. In Boston as a child , it was the only time I really cared for anything.
Racism hit me harder than anyone ever did. Because in the town, I grew up, it was racially divided up into two parts the north and the south. It barely helped me pass US history because it was the civil war of our time. The only setback, The north was where, the poor social classes and the minorities lived. I didn’t care as much. On the other hand, the south was the rich suburbia where everyone looked down on us and I guess they weren’t with the times. people were different. Sammy showed me how to play guitar , and which kept me in school, Roxie showed me how to have a good time , not the way your thinking; obviously , she started the band. The music lasted about an hour, it was a good ending to a bad day.
Two: take me out.
“I say don't you know?”
”You say you don't know
I say take me out”
Franz Ferdinand
“Take me out.”
“Franz Ferdinand”
Roxie and Sammy:
The three of us had a dream, Roxie wants to meet Mr. Right, Sammy wanted to become a writer, he had talent, and he was the best. I had this crazy dream of being a violinist Somewhere I didn't remember how to play. The next day Sammy had shown me a website to get a degree in teaching
Music, he was crazier than I was but, I really hated kids, Roxie really pushed me into it ,because she at twenty six still loves me. She really cared.
In about six months I finished my degree, got my car back pawning everything in apartment including my guitars. I was super pissed but I didn't cared as much Because Roxie let me, borrowed her guitars and musical, equipment and I had to sacrifice that cruise to save my apartment. We sort of got closer as friends , just friends. She's was daddy little spoiled Hampton girl, who was a melodramatic when she wanted to be , she had a Gothic understanding to the world problems ,she hated posers ,and cry babies. Her hero was Pink who showed her you don't have to be a stupid girl , to become what you want. Roxie was the fiery cute girl,
Kept on dying her hair, her favorite color was blue, it was also Mine too; she knew what you want (not in the sexual sense Mind you.) When your down and out, she had three Piercing, a star on her nose, and crescent moon on her Eyebrow, and a heart on her lip, she was stereotyped for Being a preppy white girl. If you want to know she is this Offbeat kind of crazy Latino girl who grew up poor, like me in Boston, her mother died when she was young, her father buried Himself in to his work of music, but she was the only child. She had to deal with being alone , and she had to do some stuff that normal people wouldn't do given the situation to get money to pay for the daily needs of this superficial life.
Sammy was the other part of this social misfit love triangle of doom, he was the overachiever type of person, he was kind hearted he also loved me. I didn't really cared that much, he was his own person, I wished I had given him a chance too, I am not what you may think. Besides you don’t know me. It’s just that I grew up in a town full of hate, I sort of love everyone, and like I don't care much. That's makes me "me".
During the six months I either crashed at Roxie's apartment or Sammy apartment, they both had three bedroom apartments , which they gracefully let me live there I was like their love child , they always took care of me, I guess I should of return the favor. The summer time was almost over when I wrote this grant by the state to able to become a teacher , the grant came through As I applied for several teaching positions in queens ,Brooklyn and parts of long Island. It was the longest time I ever spent in a office not Counting the time spent working for the “Man” at the music Store. My phone vibrated as I sat and waited. It was Sammy And Roxie they were planning to meet me at the bar for Some strange reason probably for drinks. The office was dim by the overhead Light which was on but it must have been turned low.
"Michael Harrison" said the secretary "Mr. Jamison Would like to see you."
"Thank you" I murmured as I opened the door that has The name of jay Jamison on it which was etched on the Glass and painted white, the knob felt cold as I turned it. A Desk was in the middle of the room, behind the desk in a showcase was awards and various pictures of the principle shaking People’s hands, with a smile. Its ironic looking back into my past Where I was that kid sitting in the same leather back chair, but I was in some form of trouble. Which scared me, the week I Was having anything could of happened but as usual I didn't Care.
"So, was it a long wait" said the condescending principle looking over Incident reports which was funny because it seemed like I waited for life to be over.
"Not Really "I lied I was the greatest liar in my head.
"I listened to your CD"
"And so...." I asked intently looking for a response in the principal.
"So what?" he questioned sternly not paying any attention to my face, but to the papers that were clustered in a pile.
"Did you like it?" I worried. I worry about everything, and all things, I guess that makes me human.
"No but, your experience in music and qualifications Makes you what like to call a rookie, a good starter teacher."
That was the first thing I liked about the principal and the only thing I liked. He mentioned that the rookie teacher was the type that's does the job for the hell of it. All in all he or she doesn't make too Much money, and just comes to work and teach.
"yea, I know, I really want to teach, I don't care how Much, it’s all for the benefit of the children." Which was another lie as I straighten out my tie that I didn't like it sort Of gave me a rash around my neck.
"Well sir, I thank you.” You wouldn't last here, but the only classes we have are general music , and orchestral." "The teacher just quit, and I think you wouldn't be able to handle them." he said as he looked at me if I was different or I guess he really hated music.
"I take it, Music is music." I said jumping head first into some world that I never had experience before.
"I had never thought of that but okay, anyway welcome to PS 121 I hope you like it here you start in September." he said shaking my hand with a firm grip. I couldn't wait , I hoped nothing bad would happen , but it was impossible for me to miss it.
I was playing my "The best of the Police" CD my favorite that was constantly in skipping in my ghetto car CD player.
God had a weird way to tell someone that their time is up, I drop my cell phone that had a hands free device which was attached to the dashboard. It slid under my break pedal. I didn't notice or nor cared, the traffic light changed rapidly to green to red without the yellow in between. Plus, I tried to stop, (honestly I did.) However, I hit Franz Ferdinand. Which was funny because he was more then a teacher to me. He was actually my father. Which, I didn’t know until later that he was. Then the next thing I remembered was hitting a fruit stand outside a mom & pops shop, and nearly bowling into group of nuns praying Together ,who were ironically going to ask for fruit for their food pantry. I didn't hit the nuns; However I only hit the curb after the Fruit stand collision and knocked out the light post. I had finally Wrecked my Ford Taurus and my engine was smoking worst than a Emo teenager who had connections at the scene.(I felt god caused this accident, and believe it or not, I stopped smoking. Which was an amazing feeling you get, but god is a influencing factor in ones life, I’m afraid of that.)
Melodramatically, I was charged with reckless endangerment of a man that I hardly knew. I knew him as my teacher and my biological father that left my mother for some college girl twenty something years younger than him.
Jail was amazing to me. I love the concept that everyday was a huge mosh-pit. It was a place where anarchy ruled. And people ruled people.
Man, I wish I was there for life. After a week when they told me that I was free to Go, because Franz Ferdinand had a heart attack. If you liked that band, this will be funny to you because the band's songs were emoish songs that basically were about love and hate. My favorite was "take me out". It was ironic in this given situation. Roxie came and bailed me out , she waited by the cell.
"What happened to you?" (I usually had a good story.) she said rudely giving the inmates the middle finger as they whistle and hooted at her.
"I hate cell phones now." It barely came out of my mouth. Words that defined who I was.
"So I had heard" she went to stoke my long hair , I flinched. "Are you Ok?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"cool. Did you have fun?" she said pulling down her tight black shirt
that stretched out and show her naval ring.
"So how Sammy." Changing the subject of course I did this a lot.
"Other than he misses you and I did too. That about it. I worry about you." she said kissing my pierced lip ring , the kiss felt weird with the lip ring ,but she meant it.
The world seem like a year or a century went by. They met me at the bar like they promised me. Sammy bought us drinks, Roxie handed me my mail. The majority of it was bills , a invitation to Franz Ferdinand funeral ,and lawyerly type
letter from some law office. I opened that first, it was a copy of franks’ Will and he left me a rare Marc Laberte violin labeled Degani, dated 1711. (which goes for 90 million on eBay, I feel proud that I research it in my spare time.)
"Wow who's suing you now." Sammy said sipping his mixed drink with bourbon and fruit punch. Which was a fruit drink called fruit poo, it was self explanatory.
"No one , just Frankie left me a violin , he knows damn well I cant play." Which was the truth at the time, I used to be good at it. But like since life dictates your daily schedule, I didn’t have time anymore to play it.
"That's cool, so what's good, um are them guys in prison are just like the guys shown in Oz" Sammy replied.
"Well...." I thought about it. If you minus the fact that they weren’t cute as they portray them on television, it was OZ alright. Right then Roxie Interjected with moving words that put events forward. Or maybe she had too much to drink that night. Whatever the case may be she yelled at Sammy…
“he had a rough night , we should leave him alone." There it goes, like a ticking time bomb, each second another tick. Let’s watch.
"Why are you always protecting him?" he asked as the expression on Roxie's face turn from a normal calm face to a pissed off kind of mean look.
"I am not I am just ... she yelled
"Just what." he interjected as he look like he was going to smack her.
"listen ,it didn't matter." " you two are acting retarded." Those were my famous last words.
“your right.” she ran to the bathroom crying.
" Now what the fuck was that ...."
"I don't know.” I said drinking my beer.
"well I got to get another drink , and hit on that guy over there." "give me your keys to your car.” I hated people driving drunk. It scared me more than Myspace and my god complex. It was another corky aspect of me.
"why" he asked walking towards the bar, looking at the guy that was giving him mixed signals, in the crowd of people watching the Knicks Rockets game.
" Just that I don’t like what gonna happen with Roxie , I think she drunk."
" whatever floats you're boat....just remember she's a loaner..." Which meant the car was his, if the car is messed up, Sammy’s means of transportation to work is messed up.
"Thanks for seeing it my way."
I ran towards the door and Sammy ran to the bar, I quickly open the wooden women door. and entered and the bar women bathroom was a hell of a nicer than the crapper ( it was what I called the men's room from time to time), there was a couch and a table for reading or something. All the stall were occupied I hoped nothing bad would happen and knowing my luck bad karma stalked me. And that ironically statement made me chuckle a little bit. As I approached the sink , Roxie was facing her face, then this lesbian girl kicked me in the ribs knocking me in the glass table. The girl came closer , Roxie sawed it through the glass mirror. She had this dark, Gothic, Emo, teary look in her eyes who shades of mascara bled to her skin.
She looked a lot like that girl in Steven king "Carrie". Which was funny because she scared my attacker.
"are you ok." she said as blood from head tinkle down my face past my ears.
"Thank for helping me." I started to get up. "what’s this about you and Sammy fighting over madness."
"Nothing, just nothing." when she said nothing something was hidden I couldn't tell what something was; but it scared me.
"Just you guys need to grow up...."
"Is that a statement or a rhetorical question." (Ouch I should had seen that coming.)
"Are you ok." She restated as I became weaker and fell into the chair. She got paper towels wet in the sink and washed my face her hand softly touched my arm which sort of freaked me out. By the time we left the bathroom, Sammy was gone. The bartender said he left with a guy and we got in to Sammy car who it was an old retrospect of dust. It was a ‘67 Shelby customized car. It was our favorite car, I remembered when we broke the eight track player. I accidentally jammed Sammy favorite pink Floyd eight track into the eight track player. the irony of it all was the eight track was pink Floyd’s “dark side of the moon” ;because life is like the dark side of the moon where , it’s the darkest of times and lighter clichéd good part of times. Because of the Accident, the eight track player was sacred, it meant a balance of good and bad things to come.
We got to Roxie apartment, her kisses that drove me insane. As usual, I let go of reality , as the kisses became wilder. The kisses became even more passionate, and I blackout and didn’t remembered what happened. It really meant, I don’t kiss and tell, its rude you know. If you really desire to know what I did, You as the reader must interpret what I say and visualize what I see and hear. Then again its not expect for you to think on a higher level.
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