My friend, Vinyl Scratch, has been acting singularly queer of late; a far different kind of queerness than her usual eccentricities, of which I have become rather accustom to, I feel.
Vinyl, as I have come to know her since our becoming flatmates in our appartment in Manehatten, both attending the university here for music, since about a year ago, and consequently becoming close friends, despite our vast differences in taste of music and our almost ironic--nearly to the point of being humourous--polar differences in personality, that she is a "wild night-life" kind of mare--one more to be seen at parties than at any real performance, musically, at least. She enjoys loud dub-step and other similar modern music I have no inclination towards; she is lazy in school work and chores--she will not even lift herself up to get herself some food if it means her disturbing her idly-comfortable position on the couch, and will instead call out to me to get her this and that, which I sometimes will oblige to do, and others, kick her off the couch and suggest that she would do better to get it herself; however, when it comes to her music, particularly a new piece she wants to premier some weekend at such and such an underground club in such and such a place in Manehatten or even the university grounds (without permission, of course, because "what fun would it be if I had to go through all that boring junk to get approval?"), she will work at it every waking chance she gets--though, of course, her "working" is chiefly making "wubs" with her voice and mouth, and stomping around making the beat--but she still goes at it with such great ferver; and she simply loves to be loud and have fun (the latter of which I actually rather admire and find charming--when it's not destructive... which it is most of the time...).
Vinyl's favorite place in the world is in the city, where everypony can hear her music; indeed, she is quite the famous DJ in Manehatten ("For now, until the time comes when I finish school and tearing this place apart--then I'll travel around doing gigs all over Equestia, leaving destruction in my musical wake!" so she says), and has even begun taking on the illustrious stage name: DJ PON-3. Without much need being said on the matter, she is all about electronic music, vinyl-disc srcatching; and when at home, perfers to lock herself in her studio-room all day and long into the night, mixing and recording records, no matter how much I protest that she needs fresh air. She even keeps a small refrigerator full with food and drinks, and a bucket in a far corner of her room for--... ewww, you know what it's for--so she doesn't have to leave her room while she listens to her obnoxiously loud music or while she is working on new obnoxiously loud music. And when she's not at school or in her studio, she's laying in front of the TV, or solcializing with other ponies at clubs or some such places, or is playing DJ at someplace. She hates classical music (my music), hates romance, and loathes nature.
She's completely mental, but consistant.... So why in all the wide world of Equestria is she sneaking out at night and sneaking back early in the morning, returning smelling not of sweat, bad food, and hot wires, but instead, of sweet grasses and pines?
When she first came sneaking in one early morning, appearently hoping I was still asleep, and I smelt the natural aroma wisping off her mane, I imediately inquired of it. And Vinyl, usually so quick to tell me all about anything, whether it be the "killer" time she had that night, or what she was working on for music, or the stupidity of school, or any other number of things that ignited a passion in her, instead merely stood silent and dumbfounded before rapidly muttering something incoherent and rushing off into her room, slamming the door and turning up her music. I initialy dismissed it all without much thought.
However, over the next week this continued in a similar vein, and I also began noticing new strange behaviours in her, and my suspitions grew.
I've more than once heard her being especially quiet in her room--way to quiet for DJ PON-3, even if she was alseep, for she does snore rather loudly. Once durring these moments, I put my ear to her door and could hear her making sounds, though repressed so as not to be so easily heard. They were a new kind of sound for her to make--it sounded like... voices? Singing? I knocked on her door and could hear her falling off her chair before she turned on her music and answered the door, sweating nervously. When I asked her about what she was just doing, she denied doing anything, and defensively said she had to work, and slammed the door in my face, with a "Don't bother me while I'm working!"
As we walked to classes, I noticed she would take now two brisk steps to my every four relaxed steps. And instead of lagging behind as usual, she now out-paced me by far to the point where she had to wait a considerable amount of time for me to catch up with her.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Tavi. I'm not walking fast; I'm just... walking. You must be walking slower. Keep up!"
And as we climbed the many stairs in the university, the stairs that would always leave us out of breath and tired at the top, she did not only now outstrip me in climbing them, but, at the top of the stairs, was still full of energy and not tired at all!
"What? They're just stairs, Tavi; and it's only walking. How tiring can that be, eh?"
What's more, ponies in school seem to have begun to notice changes in her as well: "Vinyl's been more awake than normal in classes lately." "She's been abnormally quiet." "When I've talked to her, she's been very attentive to what I've had to say--no more loud outbursts or any kind of interruption from her." "I've heard her echoing song-like sounds in the bathrooms when she thinks no one is around." "I haven't seen her at our usual table lately durring lunch--know where she's gone off too?" "I've seen her sitting by the window, looking up at the sky." "Can you believe I saw Vinyl reading! Crazy, I know, right?" "Late at night, I've seen her wandering toward the forests and fields outside Manehatten--" "No way! Is that where she's been running off to?" "I thought she must be up to something funny when I hadn't seen her at her usual late night spots around the city." "I hope she hasn't gotten hurt. Weird animal sounds are supposed to be heard there--like monsters!" "Anyone try asking if she's okay?" "She only ignores any such approaches to breach that matter--" "Maybe she's got herself a special somepony?" "I could only imagine what he or she might be like to have such a strong influence on her, if she does."
I know Vinyl--that is, if I know her the way I do--and I am completely, entirely possitive she would not let anypony, even that special somepony, change her to such an extreme extent as this.... But, as far as all that is from her normal personality, nothing could prepare me for what happened next.
At the end of the week, I performed on stage in front of a full house of ponies in the university concert hall; and I saw, of all ponies, her in the midst of that sophisticated crowd. She was not asleep, nor ill entertained, but entirely entrawled! When I bowed at the end of my piece, I locked eyes with her, and she slumped down and disapeared into the rising, applauding crowd.
That was it! She never so much as passed by my recitals if it risked any possibility of overhearing it, nor, let alone, even stood to hear me talk of them ("Oh, gosh! It's all so boooooooring!"). Why did she now so suddenly start to attend?!
I was resolved to find out, and if I could, without her knowing, for I knew she would only deny it; so when she snuck out, as was now her wont when she thought I was alseep, I laid patiently waiting 'till I thought she wouldn't come back, and then went to her room door, which she had carelessly left unlocked. Perhaps I could find out about what she was doing evident in there.
I don't know what scared me more; that her room was cleaner than I have ever seen it before (I admit, though, that is still was rather messy) and that she had even thrown out her 'waste-bucket', or that her favorite, trade-mark sunglasses lay carelessly on the floor, covered in dust, which could only mean one thing: she wasn't out DJ-ing--and appearedntly hasn't been for quite some time! I know my best friend; she would never, ever, never, ever, ever stop doing the one thing she loved with all her heart and soul--that obnoxious, loud, insane, just-plain-noise thing that I actually, sorta... liked hearing her play.... Something is definately wrong with my Vinyl Scratch! I imediately snatched my coat from my room, rushed out our appartment, and galloped with all my might straight for the fields and forest she was said to wander to.
Call me DJ PON-3; or Vinyl Scratch--whichever (DJ PON-3's my stage name); I am the illustrious, the infamous, the best all around DJ mare in Equestria! I'm one wild pony, as anypony I've met will surely tell you; and I normally don't like too much things that aren't wild like me; but for this one thing, I must say, I've changed from it...
It was about a month ago that I spotted somepony in a white cloak; just sitting there under a small, slender tree with a few young leaves, on the bank near the ocean, just on the edge of the city. I was walking to a new club, which had just opened up and at which I had been begged to play at the grand opening of "With all the sick beats you can muster," one heavily misty, lonely late night eve, when I saw this pony hidden in faint shadows from the lamps, beneath a hood. I at first didn't take much notice of the pony, nearly passing straight by, but as I was just leaving earshot, I heard a faint hollow sound behind me. I saw that that pony held before 'em a long log, painted with some designs I couldn't then make out. I gazed on curiously for a long few moments; and the pony gazed long and fixedly at me. When it seemed nothing would come of this, and I began to feel a bit nervous of this queer pony, I turned on my hooves, walked away, turned a corner down another street, and soon came to and entered the club at which I was to perform. When I opened the door, a sound echoed, like the distinctive "wubs" of the music I like to play, that I mistook for coming from behind the door.
As another boring week of school dragged out, and I found myself, every now and again, thinking about that pony in the white hooded-cloak. My uneasiness passed and a curiosity grew concerning that pony. What could that log they had possibly be? Who was that pony, anyway? And many such questions passed through my head that only a pony like Octavia could feel necessary to mention--but not me! Let's get to the good stuff!
Anyway, a week passed with no sign of the strange pony. I went out of my way each afternoon after school to walk by where I had saw them first; but, alas, nothing! Then at the end of the week, as I walked by again, it now becoming habitual, I saw, further away from the bank than before, under a blossoming apple tree, the pony! Not too eagerly, I walked closer to them. The sun was setting and I could make out more features than before: the pony appeared to probably be a mare, judging by her form; from beneath her cloak, an indigo tail and yellow coat could be seen; she was sitting on her rump, back hooves crossed, sitting tall and straight, her forehooves crossed; and laying behind her was that log. She appeared to be sleeping, looking down and hood covering her entire face, when I approached. I slowed my pace as I crept closer. Then I cleared my throat and sat before her under the apple tree. She stirred but no dice. Asleep.
"Uhh... hey! What's that you got there, fill3?!"
She lifted her head, and slowly opened one lavender eye at me. "Howdy..."
A mare's voice.
"I was wondering what that log thing is behind you, there. I mean, if you don't mind, I'd really love for you to show me," I added, kinda nervously, trying to be polite ("not among your strong suites," Octavia would constantly remind me, which never helped the matter).
"Oh...?" She perked up a bit and reached for it behind her. She layed it across her lap. "This...." She yawned loud and long, "Is..." another yawn and then she buzzed her lips... "Yep, that's what it is..."
"Um, you didn't say what it is."
She put it on the ground and rolled it toward me. When it bumped against me, she spoke: "It's a didjeridu..."
A what?!
I picked it up and examined it. It was heavy for a hollow log--even if it was as long as me! It appeared different than the one I thought I saw her have the first time I saw her: while before it had been painted, this one was plain. One end was larger than the other, and the smaller end had some sort of bee's wax around the edge.
"What is it?" I asked, still looking at it, now picking it up with my magic to twist it around and look at it from all directions, even inside of it. It was a completely clean hollow tube of a log.
"I said: it's a didjeridu--"
"Yes. But what is that? And how does it work? Is it an instrument? What's it used for?"
She stood up and took it from me with her mouth. She's one strong mare! She stood back from me, sat down, put the small end of the didjeridu thing to her mouth, and then.... What?! The sound was completely unexpected: it was deep, like a bass, and sounded not unlike something of the oontz-oontz of my music--but it was different... more... calming? Suddenly from that one long-drawn-out note, she started a beat. Strong and natural, like somepony beating a drum before the song starts. And then the beat became layered; a sound like hopping came in; a sound like a bass drop and then--a bark! A loud bird-like call that sounded much like the high screeches of dub-step! A roar! A static-y sound! A sound of a whinney! And then--singing?! She repeated the line once more and stopped suddenly just before the singing started up again.
I couldn't believe what had just happened. How did she do that? I stole the Didjeridu from her with my magic, and nearly stuck my head straight into the large end. There must be some kind of electrical device in here that she's making the sounds with--there's no way that was possible without some sorta technology--just no way that could be done with just the breath!
"How'ya do that?" I called out with my head still in the didjeridu. I pulled my head out and spun the didjeridu around, accidently hitting my head, and then slowly returned it to the curious mare. "I don't understand--what did you do?" I couldn't think of any more to ask--it was all too wierd.
She turned it with the small end facing me and pointed. "You put your lips here and buzz them like this. Brrrrrrrr!" Huh?! "Then you breathe in through your nose while still blowing out through your mouth when you need more breath." What in the name of Celestia was she talking about? I may not have then been able to understand what she was talking about, but I was captivated by the sounds this didjeridu made and wanted to learn all about it that I might learn make them too.
"This sound is called the drone..." She then put the waxed end of the didjeridu to her mouth and buzzed her lips. The sound was the same wub-like sound as before. "And from that basic sound, by using your breath, lips, tongue, and even your voice, you can create a myriad of sounds!"
This was fantastic! With this single happenchance meeting I had opened up a whole new world of possibilities of music that have never been tapped!
"You can really do that?! That's amazing! Where can I get one of these Didjeridus?"
"Here!" She rolled it toward me. "Take this--as a gift. But I cannot teach you how to play it... You'll have to learn that on your own--it comes more naturally that way; I'm sure you know how it is?"
I picked it up without looking away from her, and hardly listening to what she said, simply giddy with excitement and gratitude. Her face had been covered the entirety of the time we talked, and I was growing increasingly curious to know who was beneath that cloak. "Thanks... um," I gently crept into the topic, "what was your name again? Mine's Vinyl Scratch..." I added, again rather awkwardly.
An ambiguous smile played under that hood. "I am Philanthropos; and I love ponykind!"
I'm sure I've heard Tavi use a word like that name before somewhere... who had she been describing to me again? Whatever! I snatched up the didj in my magic and spun it around behind me.
"Greetings, Phil--Philentoo--... Fill3!" I struggled.
Hm. Now was the moment to move in close and get a peek. "Where should I go to practice?" I smiled slyly, leaning closer to try to get a peak under that damn hood of hers. To my surprise she stepped forward next to me, and whispered, rather boringly, something to the effect that I had best practice in private somewhere. And, almost expected, she pulled the tail of her cloak over me, and the next thing I knew I was yanking off the cloak and she was gone.
Ugh! Just when I was about to see her face, she up and bolts!
I didn't brood on it too much, but instead nonchalantly took up the didjeridu and started to walk back home. Oh, but wait: if I took this big ol' stick into our flat, Tavi would surely notice; then she would start pestering me--ugh! And, besides, I wouldn't be able to properly show her what this baby can do if I take it back and start showing it to other ponies too soon. Best to hide it somewhere until I can play it right.
It was growing darker, so I walked some distance away from the city and floated my new instrument up into a tall tree, and hid it amongst the leaves in such a way that nopony should spot it.
Now, how did she do that blowing out your mouth while breathing in your nose thing? Fuuuu. Huff. Fuuuuu. Huff. Fuuuu. Huff. Dang, that's hard! But it must be possible.
I spent a week practicing that breathing technique, in class, in the bathroom, listening to music at home, while Octavia ranted on about me cleaning-up after myself--near everytime I got the chance. I didn't even try to play the didj--I told myself I wouldn't until I could get this one thing down right. I wanted to play it the best way I could, and that meant practice, practice practice, and one thing at a time.
I made Octavia very confused while I practiced in front of her often, and never did that again. I locked myself in my room more often than normal so I could practice. I practiced so often, I would get so dizzy, other ponies asked if I was drunk. I went to great lengths to prove that I wasn't, but, as with Tavi, I learn I would have to be careful if I was to keep the didj a secret until the proper time.
After that first week, I felt I had the breathing thing down well enough, and, after school one day, the sun low in the sky, I decided to give playing the didj a try. I had only meant to play for a small bit, but ended up playing late into the night. I plucked the didj out from the tree, and wandered further away from the city to where no pony would hear me, found a nice tree out in the middle of a field where I could practice, sat down under it, and began practicing my jams. It was at first difficult to buzz my lips and breathe at the same time into the didj, but the practice did pay off, and after a few minutes of broken drones, I began to get the hang of it. I sat there, playing the same flat drone until the sun set, and then began to experiment using my tongue. Fantastic! I could just barely make a slight hopping sound with my tongue without stopping the drone. I practiced with that until I realized how late it was, to my disappointment. I returned the didj in to the same tree I had first hid it in, and headed back to my flat under the beautiful stars Luna had set that night. Funny that I've never noticed the stars before, yet out here in the fields I can see them so much more clearly. The light of the city soon obscured most all the stars; the deeper I walked into the city, the less stars I could see, until they all were covered in the city's light.
I dismissed my lateness to Tavi to meeting up with some cool ponies to have a few coffees.
"Coffee, huh? That explains your alertness. You're usually so drowsy--especially this late--this time after school. I can't imagine why, however, with all your sleeping in classes...
Now that she mentioned it, I was very awake. I'd usually slump in and crash it in my bed for an hour, but now--
"I was about to play some chess; if you aren't sleepy, you can join." She scooted over on the couch and motioned to the spot where she wanted me to sit.
"Chess, seriously? Tavi, you know I'm no match at that: you're too good!"
"Well, maybe your caffeine rush will heighten your senses... or something. C'mon, I bored of playing so oft against myself." She winked provocatively, trying to push me into the game.
"Fine: one match--"
"Three!"
"Two!"
"Arrhhh, fine," she laughed.
The first match she dismissed my winning to pure luck, and I was willing to admit that. The second time she became upset, and playfully demanded I play once more. I agreed reluctantly. Hahahaha! Now she's getting mad. To my, and to her, great and total surprise, I won a whopping three games in a row against one of the best chess players in the university!
"No way, Vinyl! Once more."
I was really enjoying irking her in my winning. For once I could gloat a bit! I agreed to once more.
Four wins.
"Once more."
Five wins.
"Once more--under time-limit!"
Six wins.
"ARRRRG!!"
I fell over laughing--I'm actually beating her!
"Okay; I must be sleepy. It's late, Vinyl; I'm heading to bed."
"You just don't want to lose again, eh?"
She coolly ignored me, and reservedly entered her room.
I looked at the clock: about 10pm. "Pretty late for a school night, I guess? Eh, whatever, I'll head to bed too."
Unlike most all nights, I fell asleep quickly, and woke up feeling--not tired and achy--but, indeed, refreshed! It was such a new feeling to me, I almost thought I was still asleep, but, nope, I was even more awake than normal! And I felt... oddly... happy?
Whatever. I got ready for school with Tavi, interjected (haha, Tavi's big words are getting to me) here and there by a remark from her at my being abnormally alert. And then, putting on my sunglasses, we started for school. I had usually to walk fast to catch up with Tavi, but now it was all very easy to keep pace, something we both enjoyed, 'cause now we could actually talk as we went without interruption.
The school day passed like any other: the same boring classes, and same crazy, oft boring, teachers. It was Friday, which only meant one thing: Party Night! I awaited anxiously for the night so I could DJ it up again at that new club I had talked about before. I was so excited, but, I felt, it wasn't just for the night-life... a kind of butterflies agitated my stomach that yearned to play that amazing didj again. And as I passed by the place near where it was hid, I had to fight hard not to up and abandon the gig all together and practice again for hours on the didjeridu--that all new kind of Wubs... It was difficult, but I did enter the club and blasted those speakers, and made those wild ponies dance until they were exhausted in the fun... and though I did enjoy it--so much: I love being a DJ!--I, then, couldn't help but yearn to practice the didj. I wanted to get good--no, great at it, fast, so I can really show ponies what I can do! At some point during the night, when I lifted up my sunglasses to look for a new disc, I left them up and looked at all the faces of the ponies in the house. The sunglasses, as for what they are, never let me see much of the audience, though they did help me to focus a bit more on the music, and not to mention that they made me look awesome; but now, without looking through them, I could see the smiles on ponies' faces....
Over the weekend, waking up at noon, I hung with my friends and Tavi during the day, and at night I took a small nap before playing at my usual weekend gig. The same deepening urge to practice the didj welled up again and again, and tugged at my heart. On Sunday night, however, I didn't make it to my gig. I left our flat soon after Tavi fell asleep, took my sunglasses as if I were going to the club, and really began to walk there, and many ponies saw me, but then I made the decision to call in sick. I pulled a pony over near to the club and told them to tell them at the club that I wasn't going to make it tonight, and left the pony with a record of mixed and mashed songs I had compiled for that night, and said to tell them that this will do, without me or not; then I silently made my way to the fields and forest to practice.
I wanted to beat myself up for not attending, but, as I played the didj, and started to discover new sounds and beats I could make, that feeling began to disappear; when I took a break, sunglasses off my eyes and resting on my horn, and gazed up at the vast stars in the silence of the night, the ill feeling vanished all together. I fell asleep under some trees on the edge of a field, rhythmically hitting my didj with a stick.
Luckily I woke up just before the sun really began to rise. I didn't know when I had fallen asleep. I picked up my didj and quickly hid it in the same tree I always did, and got back into our flat just as Tavi was waking up.
"Morning Vinyl." She yawned. "Can you get me--... or are you already making tea? It doesn't smell like my usual green tea... Is that..." She sniffed the air, and I slyly made my way to my room door. "White Sage? Vinyl, that's sweet, but I don't drink--Vinyl?" I just safely made it into my room and closed the door before she identified the smell. "Fine!" She playfully called. "Get ready, then; I'll make my own tea," she chuckled.
Tavi is usually easy going in the morning; it was the more reserved and refined later-in-the-day Tavi I had to watch out for: that Tavi can get very suspicious about these kind of things....
The next two weeks, I practiced only until about midnight, and I even took a watch with an alarm with me--Tavi's, but I don't think she'd miss it anyway. But that was far from enough for me. I practiced sounds I had heard from animals around and in Manehatten, in private (bathrooms were always best, but I had to be quiet and alert if it was a busy day), and read some books on different animal sounds, like dogs, different birds, crocodiles, snakes, frogs, and so much more it would be pointless to name them all--let it be said, I looked up and listened to audio examples of alot of animals. I began to get in the habit, without realizing, of looking out windows at animals or the wind blowing through trees, and such, to get inspiration for new beats and sounds. This also seems to have been carried over into my dealing with other ponies, as, more than one of my friends have said that I've stopped interrupting them. It's not that I still wasn't the crazy, fun-and-wild pony I always was, it's just that everything seemed to become an inspiration to me, even the talking and hoofsteps of ponies. I progressed alot in that past week, and I also became more careless, as became evident in the following week.
I didn't perform at any clubs those weekends, and I stopped wearing my sunglasses, finding that they tended to cloud what I could see and gather for my present inspiration. I also made some changes in my room: while Tavi was out having coffee with some of her friends, I cleaned up my room--well, mostly; I mean, I took out the smelly poop-basket and threw it away, and put somethings away in a more neat order so I could move around and think, but I still left it kinda messy, 'cause it's cozy that way.
Sunday, I went to sleep early and rose very early, way before the sunrise, and went out to practice on my didj for a few hours in the cold before the morning. I wanted to begin practicing singing into. This could really add a whole 'nother dimension to my sounds, and strike the listener deep into their soul. It was certainly very different from making high or low pitched sounds--it required more subtle skill--a skill that would take me the whole week to become well in (and would result in a close call or two when I was practicing away from my didj at home). Every very-early-morning that week I went out to practice this skill alone, and returned just before Tavi would wake up... at least, that was the plan. The first morning I come back, she's there, drinking tea on the couch, and immediately interrogates me. I was completely stunned. I mumbled to myself, trying to think of something to say. I know nervousness was written all over my face. I couldn't show her the didj yet--I wasn't ready.... And yet now, though, something else was holding me back: I've come to love things I had formally disliked; the thought of her seeing me as a weirdo or teasing me--afraid of what she would think--scared me most of all. I couldn't tell her yet!
"Vinyl," she leaned close to me and sniffed. There was nothing I could do--she'd find out! "Why do you smell... like white sage and trees? And is that, dirt on your hooves?"
I couldn't face her right now--I wasn't prepared! I pushed passed her and rushed to my room without a word, and turned on my usual music to calm me down.
That was too close! I counted myself so lucky for early-morn Tavi. However, I don't think her suspicions of me died.
It was true, I was becoming, little by little, so much more different from my old self, I would be very surprised if some ponies didn't notice it.
Another thing that is notable: my didj requires alot of breathing, and, consequently, as I read in one book (for I was very curious about this), because of the great amount and length of time of the deep breathing, I became more alert, calm, and had greater energy. These began to show themselves most prominently in this past week, and Tavi's been noticing in small ways. Whether it's when I'm walking far ahead of her, or not becoming exhausted climbing up the stairs, or not falling asleep in class, or bigger smiles on my face, or that I'm more quiet and more hyper (in some cases); I always try to dismiss it as her not having noticed it before hand, but I've never been able to keep something from Tavi for long....
There has even been strange talk of a ghost or monster outside Manehatten. I knew at once that ponies must have heard me practicing my didj.
Even with the increasing difficulty to hide my didj, I still kept it secret from everypony, and did so very well. But I could not hide the resulting changes in me that came from playing the didj. And it was these changes that drove me to appreciate and love the one thing I thought I couldn't stand: Classical Music!
I first truly listened it in our flat, when Tavi didn't know I was awake in my room. She was practicing some piece for her recital in a week or two. It was, for all the world, as much as I can describe it, enchanting! Notes perfectly placed, so delicate, and yet so strong. I can only describe it as painting with sounds. There is one artist I have met, and her passion is truly incredible; her name is Cherry Garden; it was she who had first made me see what a painting truly was; in every stroke of her brush on the canvas, I could feel Life--it was the most surreal experience. And it was a similar feeling I had listening to Octavia play her cello. Oh--My--Gosh! I can't even believe what I'm saying now--It doesn't make sense! It's not my kind of music I would ever play, but it no doubt inspires me! And can you imagine how strange I felt when I bought a ticket to that recital, covered in a big scarf and shrouded in that same cloak the mysterious mare who gave me my didj had left me? I was shaking--I couldn't believe what I was doing! I was buying a ticket so I could get to hear classical music for several hours!
The night of the recital, I wore the same cloak in hope nopony would recognize me; that I could just go in, be inspired, and leave. Ah! The one thing I love most of all was pulling me into the one thing I said to everypony I would never listen to or like!
Octavia wasn't the first to play her piece, but neither was she the last--but she was just before the last!
And yet--two long--but not long enough--hours of blissful music I couldn't believe I was listening to later, Octavia's turn came. I cried. It was beautiful. I wanted to be mad at myself for loving it so, but, for all my worth, I couldn't!
And then--horror! At the end of her piece, tears streaming down my face, she looked straight at me, and our eyes locked! I took my chance when the crowds rose and applauded to escape in the commotion. I ran home. It had to seem that I was there the entire time. She could never know I was there--I couldn't let her know for sure.
As soon as I got home, I messed up some things in the kitchen and living room to look like I was doing things while she was away, and made a few bowls of cereal and threw some away and left the dishes laying in the sink to look like I've been eating. Then I started to eat a bowl of cereal, for real, and laid on the couch and turned on the TV to some entertaining show, and waited for her return.
Surprisingly, when she returned, she made no mention of seeing me at the recital; but just in case I teased her about her "boring" music, and acted indifferent to her recounts of the performances. The rest of the night continued as most nights do: with TV, games, teasing eachother, and talking. I was shaking inside, afraid that she might bring up seeing somepony that looked like me in the audience, but she made no hint--however, that in itself also worried me. I even contemplated just asking straight out about it, but was too afraid. She'd have to do that herself. And, maybe--I doubted though--she had dismissed or forgot about that pony in the audience.
When Tavi went to bed, I stood up and watched TV for a while, to cover up any unease I may have displayed that night, before laying on my bed in my room. My head was buzzing with new ideas for awesome songs. I still was mad at myself for having gone to listen to classical music--I'm still the same Vinyl! I couldn't stand it anymore! As soon as I though Tavi was asleep, I quickly and quietly left to play on my didj.
Taking the didj down, I pulled it down too hard, and hit my head. I felt something drop from my lower mane, but I thought it was only a leaf. I hid myself, as usual, among some trees far enough away from Manehatten, on the edge of some fields, and began to play. I looked up at the stars, over the fast fields, felt the fresh cold air and still ground. The Milky Way shone especially bright tonight. The song Tavi had played still rushed through my heart. I tried to sing some bars of that song... simple, peaceful parts. To my delight, the singing came clearly and other-worldly--simply, humbly, and true... the sound of the earth. The Milky Way rushed into me with a roar.
I heard Tavi's voice calling out; I stopped playing, and I felt cold. She had the recital ticket I had dropped in her mouth.
"Vinyl Scratch!" She galloped toward me. There was nothing I could do: she knew. "Vinyl, those were the most amazing wubs I have ever heard!" Tears gleamed in her eyes.
I don't believe it! "I...Tavi, I can--"
"Play again! But at your next gig--ponies are guna love that new sound mixed with your wubs!"
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So, HTPD, what is a didjeridu, and what does it sound like anyway?
The Didjeridu is an Aboriginal Australian instrument, made of a eucalyptus tree trunk. The trunk is hollowed out, naturally, by termites, and then cut down, cleaned, topped with a wax mouth-piece, and then it's ready to play! It's origins are very old--I've heard up to at least, 10,000 years, maybe?
And how does it sound on stage?
And how do wubs sound on it, MOST IMPORTANTLY?!
Author's Note
Is it okay?
Well, I wrote half of this in nearly one sitting. There are bound to be some typos I've missed, so just let me know and I'll fix 'em.
Don't worry about the open ending: it means there will be more stories involving Tavi and Vinyl, is all. (let the Kawabata influence prevail! Muwahaha!
)
Hope you enjoyed--and who guessed she was doing this?
