we're pausing all the chaos; r+i
Apr 5, 2024 17:27:02 GMT -5
Post by ᴥ on Apr 5, 2024 17:27:02 GMT -5
IVORY AUCLAIR
"I'm not going."
To which Professor ???? looked at me like I was speaking in tongues, so I told him again,
"I'm not going to detention."
Apparently that's not how that works. I get another day's punishment for being insubordinate, which is ridiculous because I don't think the man etching the basics of music theory onto a blackboard is in any way my 'superior'.
We're supposed to be contrasting the use of dissonant and consonant harmonies, instead I'm mapping notes onto ambient noise. Trying to find the pockets of pitch and rhythm; even the absence of a song holds a reluctant melody. Try as they might to fashion me a muzzle, they'd have to cut my fingers off at the knuckle to make any real headway. Even then I have wrists, and elbows, and ankles and teeth - my mind is never a quiet place.
There's someone next to me, an empty lecture hall stretches out on either side. I hope he gets bored soon.
Flies buzz at a higher pitch than honey bees, I wonder if it's because the latter know how to dance. I shift lower in my seat and try to decide whether a g is better sharp or flattened beneath the heel of my combat boot.
I look up, I look at him. Smiling like he knows it's pretty - I wonder if there's a bump on his head from where he wandered into the blunted end of my drumstick. It's his fault that we're here to begin with. Well not really, but his bad luck is an offense of its own.
What's his name again?
"No." I say, honest, starting up a cadence with my nails. I'd painted them like piano keys because I thought it was clever. "Nobody here could do what I do. It would just be a waste of time."
My gaze trails up the length of him, he's full of curious details but the most of which being the way he's angled toward me. Watching too. Hanging on my words like I've hooked them to his ears with needle and thread. I'm not used to it, I'm not sure I like the attention.
So I angle my face away, "If you're bored, there's an assignment." I point helpfully.
To which Professor ???? looked at me like I was speaking in tongues, so I told him again,
"I'm not going to detention."
Apparently that's not how that works. I get another day's punishment for being insubordinate, which is ridiculous because I don't think the man etching the basics of music theory onto a blackboard is in any way my 'superior'.
We're supposed to be contrasting the use of dissonant and consonant harmonies, instead I'm mapping notes onto ambient noise. Trying to find the pockets of pitch and rhythm; even the absence of a song holds a reluctant melody. Try as they might to fashion me a muzzle, they'd have to cut my fingers off at the knuckle to make any real headway. Even then I have wrists, and elbows, and ankles and teeth - my mind is never a quiet place.
"Hey."
There's someone next to me, an empty lecture hall stretches out on either side. I hope he gets bored soon.
Flies buzz at a higher pitch than honey bees, I wonder if it's because the latter know how to dance. I shift lower in my seat and try to decide whether a g is better sharp or flattened beneath the heel of my combat boot.
"Think you could teach me that?"
I look up, I look at him. Smiling like he knows it's pretty - I wonder if there's a bump on his head from where he wandered into the blunted end of my drumstick. It's his fault that we're here to begin with. Well not really, but his bad luck is an offense of its own.
What's his name again?
"No." I say, honest, starting up a cadence with my nails. I'd painted them like piano keys because I thought it was clever. "Nobody here could do what I do. It would just be a waste of time."
My gaze trails up the length of him, he's full of curious details but the most of which being the way he's angled toward me. Watching too. Hanging on my words like I've hooked them to his ears with needle and thread. I'm not used to it, I'm not sure I like the attention.
So I angle my face away, "If you're bored, there's an assignment." I point helpfully.