mogget_cat | OOM: Open-Mic 2

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Yrael and Teja step through the door and out into a deserted alleyway in New Orleans. It's evening, here, around eight o'clock with the sun just having fully set. The people in the street before them haven't noticed them yet.

"All right... to find a clothing shop."

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Teja sits back, sips his drink, and watches with neutral curiosity.

She plays very elegantly, though is noticeably nervous about playing in front of so many people. Her songs are soft, her voice lilting, singing about love, with the inner turmoil and the various difficulties that come with it.

The inner turmoil, one would think, is deepened by the fact that one so sensitive would come upon a stage in front of so many, and tell what ails her heart -- or so, at least, Teja muses, watching her.

Love, indeed. Teja catches himself thinking of the eunuch and the blood-drinker, and how, it seems, he will have neither, so there isn't even a decision to me made.

The girl ends her song without answering the questions that it asked, but with hope that she'll find her answers someday.

Yrael and the rest of the crowd applauds, making the girl smile. She gives an awkward curtsy, blushing, before heading off the stage.

Teja looks at Yrael, expectantly.

He feels he is almost excited.-

"Just one more," Yrael says, grinning up at the stage. He's looking forward to this. "I'm third, so just one more."

"It is almost exciting," Teja says.

A Goth king would, of course, never be plainly excited. At least not this one. Totila would!!

"Almost?" Yrael looks almost hurt.

Almost. The grin kind of undermines the legitimacy of the look.

"I'll have to fix that."

The MC announces the next performers, calling their names. As he does, a group of four young men, skinny in t-shirts and blue jeans, take the stage. One on guitar, one on bass, one at the recently vacated piano and one at a drum-set.

"Now we shall see what those do," Teja says, waiting for them to begin.

The bass starts, slow and sinuous as smoke, soon joined by the other instruments. The drums are understated, mostly keeping the beat as it adds the rhythmic background, while the piano provides the bass chord foundation of the sound. The man with the guitar steps forward to the microphone, singing into it with a very country drawl. For all the distortion from the accent, it fits the song. There is something hurting in the singer's voice, a true feeling of longing in the wail of the guitar, a weight in the heart of the slow drumbeat.

"Iiiiiii ain't got the change of a nickel-
Ain't got no bounce in my shoooes-
Ain't go no fancy to tickle...
I ain't got nothin'
but the blues.

Ain't got no coffee that's perkin'-
Ain't got no winnin's to lose-
Ain't got a dream that is workin'...
I ain't got nothin'
but the blues.

When trumpets flare up I keep my hair up-
I just can't maaake it come down-
Believe me buddy, I can't get happy
Since my ever lovin' baby left town.

Ain't got no rest in my slumbers-
Ain't got no feelin's to bruise-
Ain't got no telephone numbers...
I ain't got nothin'
but the blues."

Teja listens to it, fascinated.

This is not mere jazz; and he does not feel the need, either, to ask Yrael what 'the blues' is. It is more than obvious. The song fair drips with that feeling which is oh so familiar to Teja.

The applause after the song is enthusiastic, causing the singer and his friends to grin, waving to a few audience members they know.

Their next song is slightly faster, a walking pace, still with the ache of the second song. Still bluesy, with that sense of 'having been done wrong.' Alas, the song says, love is cruel. But we can't help it.

"Just as I thought I'd made it
You walk back into my life.
Just like you never left.

Just as I'd learned to be lonely,
You call up to tell me
You're not sure if you're ready.
Oh but ready or not,
you'll take what you've got
and leave.

Leave me alone with my heart
I'm putting the pieces back together again.
Just leave, leave me alone with my dreams.
I can do without you, you know what I mean...

I wish I could write a love song,
To show you the way I feel.
Seems you don't like to listen-
Oh but like it or not,
you take what you've got
and you leave.

Leave me alone with my heart-
It's broken in two and I'm not,
I'm not thinking too straight.
Just leave, leave me alone with my dreams
You've taken everything else,
you know what I mean."

Teja listens, sighing. Who knows what he may be thinking of?

Something in this music resonates in Teja's soul. He looks at Yrael, trying to convey his approval without disturbing the music.

Yrael smiles slightly, understanding. As the band finishes their set and moves off the stage, Yrael stands to get ready for his own performance.

"I'll find you some CDs of blues music when we get back to the bar," he says under the general applause for "Felix White," who will be performing next.

"Thank you!" Teja says, reaching out to touch Yrael's arm. "Good luck, Yrael!"

"Thanks," he grins as he passes, climbing the stairs onto the stage and taking up his guitar.

The crowd is applauding, but isn't going wild over this performer.

Yrael means to change that, if one can read the set of his smirk.