My name is Ezra. I forgot Craycray work here.
"Ezra! You're... You're here!!" She said in a male uniform because of her towering height. I couldn't tell what her thoughts were behind that creepy smile. "I fucked Fursk like a living dildo the other day! Can I take on Ezra?"
"Mhm~ How are you?" I asked softly, because…
"I'm great!"
...Because no matter how weird she was, I wanted to appreciate her acts and values. No one should be disrespected because they are different.
Also...
"Is it just me, or do you look extra beautiful today?" I meant it, genuinely. Such neatly brushed long hair gave away that she was very hygienic. Those symmetrical and sculped facial components were prettier than commercial models.
"Really!?" She slammed the convenience store counter and leaned toward me. Even with her waist bent, she was still taller than I.
"Ye... Yes." I laughed awkwardly. She was too tall for most people's comfort.
"Thank God Pollen covered my eye bags with a peachy peachy makeup. That's why girls are obsessed with makeup! Just a little paint under the eyes made a man not lie that I'm beautiful!" Craycray looked pleased. "By… By the way, did you listen to the…the Twin Death album?"
Ah crap!
"No, sorry. I will listen to…"
Craycray gaped, losing all her charms and imperfections. I forgot to check out an album, and she seemed like her dream was crushed. Should I apologize?
She began moving, crossing her arms while tapping her fingers, walking left and right at the counter. Then, she pressed a button on the desk. Like that, Palakala and a middle-aged man with rough stubble and buzz cut came out.
"Oh? Ezra!" Palakala waved.
"Hello," the middle-aged man greeted. "What's wrong, Craycray?"
"He... He..." Craycray pointed at me rockily. "Woo…"
And she pursed her lips and looked down and cried and what the heck?
...
"What!? What did you do to my daughter!?!?" The man suddenly lifted my collar.
"WAAH!!"
"Buddy!"
"Dad! Stop!!" Craycray locked her father around the neck and lifted him in the air.
"U+)WR/@%K!! Cray...cray…you got stronger again!"
"Of course! I must train to protect you and little sis!"
"Noice!" Her father, Buddy, gave her a thumbs-up and foamed at the mouth.
"What a...way to show filial daughter and receptive father…" This place wasn't for me.
...
"So basically, he wants to study music… Oh, hi, Susan! He wants to study music with me," Palakala explained as the blue inner-dyed hair girl in my class came in.
"Sup! What y'all doing?" She joined the conversation. Craycray suddenly pulled her away and whispered in her ear.
"I see! I was a professional drummer. Feel free to learn from me!"
"Buddy, you tried to beat him up a second ago."
"That will be great! Looks like this convenience store is filled with musicians!" I exclaimed. I understood that Buddy only reacted that way because his daughter cried.
"He's very lenient, huh?" Palakala tilted his head at me. "Speaking of music, did you listen to Twin Death?"
"Aw, he asked! I didn't know why Craycray acted like that, but Palakala should act more normal," I thought. "Not yet, sorry. I will listen…"
Pollen flashed her palm at Craycray, who was whispering to her, frowning with a round gape. Palakala blanked at the floor like all hopes were gone. Buddy looked like he wanted to kill me. Craycray wept again.
...
"I'll go home and listen to it right now! I promise!!" What the heck was that album!?
"Hey! I remember you from our class! How dare you join a band without listening to this album!?" Pollen shouted.
"You stay here and listen! Craycray, bring the chairs in the storage room outside and show him the album!!" Buddy ordered.
"I will take over the counter even though I'm off work! Go, Craycray!!" The heck!? Palakala, too!?!?
"Copy!"
"What kind of Gods wrote this Twin Death anyways!?"
Like that, I sat next to Craycray on a plastic chair. It was night, but Craycray suggested not sharing earphones because she wanted both left and right sound channels. Thus, she would play it with her phone's speaker.
"Good… Good musicians shouldn't only consider how music sounds on headphones. It should encircle the atmosphere on speakers, too! Look at blues and jazz back in the day," she said. Her height was similar to mine when sitting down, meaning her legs must be crazy long.
"Wouldn't we hear the details with earphones, though?" I nodded regardless to her proposal. "Wouldn't we disturb the residence?"
"No... No. The residents don't have ears."
"What does that mean?"
"It's normal that people enjoying shit music these days have cum-filled ears, right?" Craycray smirked! So scary!!
The first song of Twin Death is called "Where Have You Gone?"
"This... This is the new, um…remake of Twin Death. The other one is great, too, but it…it will sound too blurry on speaker," she explained.
"Are you nervous around me?" I smiled tenderly.
"You… You smell very good, so…"
"Yeah, she's weird, but I'll take that as a compliment. I don't want to be like a pervert, but she smells so good, too."
"Let's do this. I have the translated lyrics here."
Kicks, drumsticks, and bass.
"Heeeee was here with me~"
The lead singer sounded like a country folk complaining about the government. But then, his unstable and crackly voice carried a hint of blue. Even when the guitar and spry falsetto joined, it sounded sad. Maybe because of the chords? The quiet bass was soon joined by distorted guitars. It did sound experimental like Radiohead.
I squinted at Craycray. She had her eyes closed, swinging left and right with a relaxed smile, one that was nothing like the smile she'd shown earlier. So, that was how she enjoys musi—
An explosive volume made me flinch. The same melody, but an octave higher, it could shake the windows of the residence.
"Nice progress."
The song was outstanding. I didn't hear a reply, so I turned to Craycray, seeing her smile become a grin. That was the only change. Oh! And she began tapping her foot that was closer to me.
"It's a great opening, isn't it?" She didn't stutter after the song ended.
"It is! But, I don't quite get the lyrics."
"Aw! The protagonist is gay. He was singing, HE was here with me~ Haha~"
"I see." I was impressed that she sang in front of an almost stranger with no tremors. Then, Pollen came out. "Hey, Susan!"
"Ey? My name is Pollen when she's around." Pollen pointed at Craycray.
"...Okay. Do you remember my friend, Dumdu…Anders? He wishes to talk to you."
"Aw. When?"
"I will have to check. May I have your Uschat?"
We switched contacts. Then, Pollen gave Craycray a thumbs up before leaving.
"Next song!"
"Oka... Eleven minutes!?" The first song was great, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to stay here for so long.
Distorted guitar, lazy tone again, but what was wrong with the lyrics? Every sentence had a very different number of syllables, and they were sung in a rhythm that felt improvised.
"Ah~" Craycray kept the phone nearer to me. She was grinning already. "Genius lyrics…"
I wasn't great with literature in school. Crap! I was falling behind Craycray.
What will I do? Eat? Job? Friends? That sounded like…a boring life.
The guitar syncopated. Craycray swung robotically with the syncopation. That was kinda cute.
But what were these lyrics? It was about someone yearning for someone… Rabbit ate the dog…?
...
No, it was about depression.
"WHEN! CAN! I! GO! CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAZY!?!?"
Craycray cried for the third time today, holding the phone for me, her eyes wide open, allowing the tears to flow out, and smiling. She noticed my stare, grinned, and pointed at the phone.
That was when the rapid guitar stopped. The individual guitar brushes could be counted, like a train that slowed down, where the wheels and the rail joints could be individually counted. It hit me. The song's protagonist was in a train station at the beginning.
...
I couldn't remember the melody. I couldn't understand the lyrics. I couldn't see Craycray. All I found was two dogs hugging each other, the seemingly changing lyrics, and that one line...
"Eat takeaway, Eat him."
...
"Thousand paths I've covered…"
"..."
"Couldn't find you nor me…"
She covered her eyes and looked upward. The hand holding the phone trembled. Did the lyrics resonate with her?
No, why did I even think it was because of the music? Because I couldn't remember the melody, the lyrics.
The third part of the single song came. It ended. I felt like I blanked out for thirteen minutes.
"Craycray, can you pause the album?"
"Of... Of course!"
"May I know..."
"Mhm?"
"How do you enjoy music?"
...
"Was... Was that song bad?" She looked anxious. Her eyes were watery again.
Thus, I should comfort her. Despite how weird she was, I hated displeasing anyone, even if I had to lie.
"I don't know what I was listening to." However, the smile that I displayed for classmates, relatives, friends, and strangers disappeared.
"May... Maybe the next song—"
"No." I couldn't remember the last time I cut someone off. "I don't know what happened."
"What do...you mean?"
"I don't know whether this song is good or not. I can't remember anything that happened except…your reactions."
"Ah." She blushed.
"But, I don't want to leave, not just because I promised you, but because I want to understand."
"..."
"I want to understand what happened. I want to understand the music and lyrics. I want to understand…the reason for your reactions."
"I..." She faced against me, but I could see her blush up to her ears. "See."
"She likes me, doesn't she?"
"The... There are three types of advanced listeners." She turned back, and her grin couldn't be controlled. "The most common are the ones focusing on lyrics."
"Lyrics? Shouldn't the most common to…"
She lifted a finger, opening her mouth, but saw me unfinished.
"So... Sorry. Go ahead."
"Ah, I was just saying, shouldn't the most common be the ones focusing on the melody?"
"They aren't suitable… In… In my opinion, they aren't too familiar with music, same as the lyrics people. The music adepts don't look for beautiful wording, poetry, or even relatable lyrics. They don't want answers in the song or philosophical bullsh…crap. They want to think, so the lyricists should question. Lyricists shouldn't lecture, because everyone has their own answers."
"..."
"Of course, if you can word the question like a poem, that'll be the best, or if you can create a novel of a story like Eminem."
"Is that why...I'm thinking now?" I wanted to know what I heard.
"I wouldn't suggest thinking about the lyrics now, though."
"Huh?"
"The second advanced listener knows what the song is about without reading the lyrics."
"Ah, I've heard of this!"
"Mhm. If we can only read, we might as well read a book. Music doesn't have to be experimental as long as it conveys the artists' message. Still, if it can be technical and novel, that's the best!"
"Not the entire message, but the emotions, right?"
"Yes! Not just happy, sad, or rageful, though. Those are easy. There are maybe ninety types of emotions, but artists fail to convey them."
"I see."
"And the third type is vibe."
"Vibe?"
"Before we try to understand the lyrics or pinpoint every instrument's usage in a song, we should just blank our head and vibe with the music."
She continued to explain how music could flow through every inch of the body. Her fingertips, her digestive system, and her expressions—everything reacts to the song's vibe.
"Like you just now," I said.
"Yes. I'm a vibe listener. That's how we got reggae, funk, and rock, isn't it?"
We swung left and right in swing jazz. We banged back and forth in rock. We bounced up and down in reggae.
"We dance in jazz without lyrics, just some random scats make us spin."
"..."
"So, don't try to understand when you listen to a song for the first time. Just laugh at some funny and easy-to-understand lyrics, praise those very noticeable instrumental production and chord changes, and vibe. Let your entire body feel the music. Let your brain create random images."
"...I'm sorry to ask this, but…"
"Hm?"29036
"Did you cry because of the lyrics or vibe?"
"Oh, haha~ I have a weird syndrome, which causes me to produce an excessive amount of tears daily. I must cry to sleep and cry waking up each day, haha~"
"..."
The lyrics were simple in the third song. They were funny, I laughed, and Craycray swayed as she played an imaginary guitar.
"I'm on the street as an anti-drug figure, strolling and strumming an acoustic guitar."
I could picture that.
The fourth song is called "Intoxicated Lone Travelers." The beginning guitar sounded like a road trip, but the singer's tone was extra lazy.
No, I shouldn't think.
...
"Nothing works."
This album wasn't for minors, huh? Palakala and Buddy didn't say anything, and Pollen had heard of it.
I wouldn't think just yet, because when the chorus came, Craycray began tapping her foot. That was such a tiny but appealing motion.
"Life wasn't like this~"
Craycray stood up. She had her eyes closed, so I knew her body was the one that acted. She spun, she tapped, she nodded. She caught a glimpse of my stare and smiled awkwardly, planning to sit back down.
"No, go ahead, please," I said.
"O... Okay. May... May I smoke?"
"Sure!"
That was a catchy hook. The lyrics sang things I couldn't understand again. She stood far away, smoking, her back leaning on a concrete pillar. Even the smoke she blew out hit a music beat.
She must have listened to this song a thousand times, right? Or did she? If not, that meant this song was easy to predict, or was it not?
"Hope he treats this song as an old friend~" Craycray thought.
"Where we going? You said: 'Youth don't need to think~'"
"Haha, and this old friend cracks me up every time."
The outro was interesting. One four-bar section was slow and quiet, followed by a four-bar section featuring fast guitar and loud drums. That arrangement repeated—with repeated lyrics—for more than a minute.
When it was quiet, Craycray didn't move. When the growling guitar strummed four times, she tapped her foot four times. The silent part added a snare before transitioning into the loud part; she hammered her head sideways in sync with the snare. When the lo-fi drum played, she tapped her finger to the rhythm.
Then, the fifth song, "Popular Stupidity," began.
"Don't think, just feel…"
...
Customers walked in and out. I was supposed to feel awkward when they frowned at us.
This uncomfortably tall and weird girl who used abusive language sat beside me again. Dumdum told me how she suggested murder to become great musicians, how she was dirty-minded, and how she drank a bottle of wine in a music store. Now, this person tried to teach me about music?
I wished to understand everybody, even those I didn't like, because even unwanted things had their meanings. I wanted to smile in front of everyone; what age was I when I last cried? I wanted everyone to be friendly around each other; what age was I when I talked back to someone?
Did you cry because of the lyrics or vibe?
...
But, I couldn't do that with Craycray. No, I could, when I simply learned that she was a strange…crazy…psychotic person. But now, I couldn't.
She is music. Like this sixteen-minute song, I couldn't understand them.
So why...when the piano played… When I recalled that she said she would cry to sleep…when the song said…
"What happened to you?"
...
Craycray kissed my cheek when I cried. It was after she kissed me that I realized I'd cried. I turned to her, seeing her flush that was noticeable under the already orange light.
That pulled me away from the music as my stare hadn't left her. She started to look concerned because I hadn't said anything or reacted.
The distorted guitar exploded, the drummer smashed the crash cymbals, the singer bellowed, and I covered my eyes.
"Are... Are you alright?"
I turned away. My mouth must have been misshapen from crying. I wanted to stop quivering. I couldn't understand the lyrics.
Did I cry because of the lyrics or vibe?
"...Haha, why did you kiss me?" After the song ended, I wiped my tears and smiled.
"Sor... Sorry! I don't know why I did that."
"It's alright. I just want to know, do you like me?"
"Shit! It came so fast!!!" She turned away so hard that the chair moved with her. "I… I do."
"Okay, but I have someone in mind, sorry."
"Aw, okay." She flipped back, keeping eye contact easily as she looked relieved.
"What? Is that all?" I laughed.
"No... I... Uh... Maybe…"
"Haha, let's go to the last song."
...
"Do Palakala and your father listen to music like this?"
The album ended.
"No. My dad is that lyrics kind of guy, and Palakala is music."
"If that's the case, thank you for introducing me the album like this. I truly appreciate it." I lowered my head to form half a bow.
"It's... It's nothing!"
"Finished?" Palakala came out without the uniform, holding a pack of cigarettes as he passed a stick to Craycray.
"Yes!"
"How is it?"
"I don't know."
"Haha, I knew it." He didn't query my answer. Instead, he looked at Craycray. "The way Craycray taught me music is how she and I became fri…. Fuck, yes, friends."
Craycray kicked him in the shin.
"I would love to study more albums with you, Craycray. And I'm sorry that I can't reply to you."
"It's alright! I understand!"
Palakala squinted down after a large inhale of the cigarette. Then, he kicked Craycray's chair.
"I... I know I'm not beautiful, and I'm too blatant—"
"No! You are beautiful!!"
...
"Craycray is kind of beautiful, but that's not how she defines that word." Palakala shrugged.
"Haha, thank you."
"No, I mean it!"
Craycray and Palakala widened their eyes.
"I don't want to hear you say that either. And if possible, I wish you could stop using some…um…indecent and gruesome words. You see, Dumdum told me what you said."
"...And he still sat with her for more than an hour alone?" Palakala didn't know what he comprehended, but he knew if I could do anything…
"...Okay." Craycray.
"Will you do that for me?" Me.
"Ye... Yes, I will!"
"Maybe Ezra can make Craycray normal?" Palakala had never seen Craycray fixing her act for someone else.
"May I know when you'll be free again?" I asked.
"Yes! I'll ask my dad to send me next week's schedule. I'm out of breaks this week."
"Awesome. I would like to feel music with you again."
"Ey, how about me?" Palakala laughed. "I know he'll refuse, because I was the same with Craycray when we first studied music together."
"Aw, maybe next time. I kind of wish to understand this vibe that Craycray talked about." I stood up, and so did Craycray. Gosh, I could never get used to her height.
"I getcha."
"Well, then..." I hadn't wanted to see Craycray again since the last time we met. "Thank you."
But I bowed ninety degrees, couldn't wait for our next music session. Craycray didn't know where she got her music from, so she might be the first to ever discover the music's insensible energy that could flow through our bodies. And from what she said, lyrics that question, notes that convey messages, and a vibe that moves the bodies…
Could they make that mythical "perfect song?"
"He likes someone else, huh?" Palakala asked after I left. "And you don't give a shit about that fact, huh?"
"Whaaat? Isn't that normal?" Craycray despised how stupid Palakala was.
"According to you, because men desire to cheat and women desire to cry and change boyfriends, acting like victims from their ex-boyfriends, so you'll try to steal Ezra even if he does date that girl."
"Yep. You're learning!"
"Fuck you." Palakala pushed her head, and she pushed back.
"I already made a man cheat a few days ago."
"Congrats."
"Your blowjob techniques really worked. The internet is right! I should ask gays for opinions!!"
"I won't give you advice even if you buy me fifty packs of Nutella cookies next time. And what will Ezra think if he finds out you slept with another man?"
"It's normal to fuck everyone fuckable."
"Didn't Ezra tell you to stop saying indecent things?"
"Ah, you're...you're right." She scratched her chin, and Palakala goggled like he saw a ghost.
(Man, Ezra's point of view descriptions are so boring.)
"Heh, go inside! It's supposed to be your night shift!!" Palakala smiled and pushed Craycray inside.
I sat on my chair. Before me, there was a large computer, keyboard, microphone, and handwritten musical sheets. I crushed every single sheet, tossing them into the bin.
{Anders, go listen to Twin Death!}
{Oh.}
{Now!}
Then, I lay back to rest my head on my crossed hands, wearing headphones, playing Twin Death—the older version.
The production was crappy—a home garage production kind of album. Once again, I couldn't comprehend the lyrics. I couldn't even notice that the lyrics are different from the other version.
...
My name is Ezra. I grinned and tapped my foot.