The Murderer

Today Bryce Huntbach came up to me and said, "Marcus, last night I was up for an hour trying to compose your song."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah! It's so hard. I mean, now I have your copy to go off of, but it gets too powerful in the middle. I feel like killing myself."

I stuttered. "Um...gosh, I'm sorry..."

"No, no! That's because it's so good," he explained. "Your thing is good enough to take me there to where I need to be. It's just hard to recreate that feeling with music. But I'm working on it, and I'll show you when it's done."

There is now a new post on "A Poet in Wicker Park", which features the now infamous piece entitled "Faces". Amaya is the only one who knows the story behind "Faces", so here I go on a rather dreary explanation.

For my Creative Writing class, we were supposed to write something about us without using direct references to actual traits; we could only describe ourselves through actions instead of "I am..."s. I put this off until the night before it was due, and I ended up having a rather depressing epiphany about myself. It was sad, but it's true. And because you have to know me VERY well (which no one does, not even Harry or Amaya), the symbolism behind the whole thing is extremely deep and metaphorical, referencing motifs and themes one will only recognize from darkness. Basically, it's just saying how my bad decisions will affect my future family in a very dramatic way. (And in a way, Amicus, this is how I am a murderer.)

Anyway, a week later the student teacher decided to offer extra credit to anyone who chose to read their assignment out loud in front of the class. I had forgotten all about the assignment, and I had just flunked a quiz, so I desperatly needed the extra points. However, as person after person got up and shared theirs, I was shocked. Everyone had something that was along the lines of a cheerful resume, like a nice trumpeting about one's self. Mine was a fictional story, and what was more is that it was extremly dark in comparision. Like, I'm talking day and...well, a night on Pluto.

These "resume"-type essays were all incredible (Marcie Glad's was very remniscent of that one college spoof essay that over-exaggerates feats, goes something like "I woo women with my godlike tombone playing..." if you've never read that, it's awesome and funny, and so was Marcie's, her's went "I've written an award-winning song and I sang it on the streets of NYC and got money, I got kicked out of the White House by the Secret Service..." I loved it).

I got more and more ashamed of the piece of emotional vomit in front of me, but I felt like since my grade was one the line, I had no choice. I waited until towards the end of the period, when the teacher called out for the last time, "Anyone else?" With embarrassment I got up in front of the class. I tried to warn them how mine was very different and how it was definitly a PG-13 rating; violent and mature. I then proceeded to read my essay.

As I got closer and closer to the end, I realized how stupid "Faces" was, and how depressing I was making everyone. It was as if I had turned off the lights. There was a tangible dark cloud in the air, and I was responsible. I also realized that whenever I paused for breath or to think about the depressing feeling or how awkward this all sounded, it seemed to be a pause for effect, the most dramatic pause being when I got to the last two sentences. I finished and sat down.

There was an odd applause, like the kind when people don't really want to clap. The student teacher said, "Yes, very dramatic, I liked...[da-dum, da-dum]...now who else would like to share what they enjoyed?" I didn't think I'd get very positive feedback.

But suddenly hand after hand went up, and everyone was like, "I am so moved..." I was so embarressed and shocked; this wasn't what I was expecting, especially about something I wrote. One person noted "It started out kinda depressing, then it got real deep and you could definitly tell everyone was touched because there were people looking down, and it was definitly uncomfortable, and then the ending was just..." Another said, "I don't know Marcus very well, but I could tell just from that how much he cares about his future, and it was just incredible." A girl who reportedly has a crush on me (again) said, "I am rarely moved by a piece of writing. But....wow." Just a ton of comments like that.

It ended with my main teacher saying how she almost didn't want to clap because it was so good and so powerful, like applauding at the end of a powerful symphony. After class, Bryce Huntbach--the man, the myth, the legend--humbled me by requesting a copy of "Faces" to write into a ballad. He was writing a concept album, and he wanted five pieces from people in the class. He had something from Becca Peachen, and now he wanted my piece to write a song. It was like Jack Johnson asking me to do it.

So...there you go. Sidenote: "Faces" seems to be more powerful when read out loud (even though I simly attribute it's effects to the light-switch syndrome, that and how I'm not known that well by my classmates). But it's a text post instead of an audioblog anyway.