The minstrels played away, touching their instruments in all of their naughty places to make them go shriek and go “ooh!” in all the right ways. I had taken a break from eating. Gorging my face full of turkey legs can be a hassle, especially when all of my contractors and detractors from all over the kingdom come to put all sorts of spices on it that I never wanted or ask for, but they shove their way into my meal anyways, so sure that if they keep up with their intrusions and random spitting of torn poultry ligaments in my face, that I’ll be sure to mention them as being associated with me, the King of Eira.
The troupe’s name was hanging on the railing across their dilapidated stage. “Huma” they called themselves. Their audience was sparse, not a shock, it’s generally the life for these types, musicians and artisans and performers and the like, something but a couple of random gawkers, some at their lewd clothes and sometimes lack thereof, but also the occasional mouth-breather who stops because it is another thing to look at. I came here to get out, to piece myself together away from all of the annoyances back at the dining table who kept trying to do it themselves, children trying to smash a jigsaw puzzle together, but the puzzle’s had enough torture, it just wants to be whole again.
Odd. At these sideshows, the troubadours always seemed to be exactly that—the noise from somebody else’s conversation, someone else’s business, but now that I got away from that part of my life, I was in that somebody else’s conversation. Pulling the ol’ switcheroo they turned their head up to take a swig of mead. I wasn’t just hearing the music like I did back at the table, but listening because I was somebody else now, involved with the music, listening to its words and letting it fill me in on how I was supposed to act and think. The music filled me with the thoughts that I was sure I couldn’t worry about anymore, but now I had to, or else they get suspicious. I liked these thoughts though, thoughts of escape, of love, and even thoughts of loss and hesitation. I was entertaining myself by living a stranger’s life, living life, even the worst parts of it, without having to worry about the pain, and even better, dealing with the pain. I was observing life, like my soul was floating above my body as it walked on hot coals.
These people who live their life tickling strings in lewd fashion, living in a permanent atmosphere of tomfoolery that chokes any breath of seriousness away can entertain, but in more than just silly tunes and catchy notes, but by offering something different to think or worry for.
Seely – Julie Only
Movietone – The Sand and the Stars
Sing Sing – Sing Sing and I