Night Town: Elias, the Hurdy-Gurdy Man
So he sat again, around 1:30AM, getting his drone on. Sometimes he'd hear money drop into the case. He lived with a caretaker named Nanette. All she knew about her from her voice was that she was around his age and had once danced in a company directed by a man named Donald McKayle.
Carolyn and Luis paused in front of him for several minutes. Carolyn gasped with delight.
"He's playing 'Untitled' by The Cure from Disintegration!" She grabbed for Luis's hand.
"Aye, mamacita," replied Luis. It was a reference to their joke that most of the Latinos they knew loved The Cure. Carolyn chuckled and snuggled her head into Luis's Joy Division tshirt.
The album was one of Elias's favorites. He knew little time and place, or whether music was for young people or no. He had learned many of the songs by ear quite quickly. The drone soothed him.
Occasionally he would be joined by an incredible cellist or some bucket players, both of whom loved adding rhythmical changes to their collaborations. One day he asked the cellist's name. "Rico," a velvety voice replied. The bucket guys were usually gone before chitchat. Sometimes they brought a beatboxer. One time they had an opera singer.
Nanette would usually collect him around 3AM, though sometimes the police would shut Night Town down early. Elias wasn't sure why he and Nanette had never tried to be lovers, but they had separate rooms.
Elias would often dream of his beloved instrument, the drone vibrating with his heartbeat, all the way through his extremities.
**
Ping turned a couple of corners from his parents' car dealership. The night was young and humid, preparing for rain. He stopped on the corner. Elias was out early, with his sign on his instrument case introducing himself. Ping had never really stopped to listen; it was always so late when he was out. He must know it's about to rain, Ping thought. He immediately knew the man had been sitting there for almost one of his full shifts, as well.
"It's going to rain."
"I was just about to say that."
Elias started up. Tonight it was a Breton song. Late Medieval. He had actually played in a Medieval ensemble about eight years previous. Ping was astonished at the quality of the music. He closed his eyes rapturously. At the song's conclusion, he pressed a crisp twenty dollar bill into Elias's hand.
"Stay clear of the bandits of the Night Town. Keep making that gorgeous music. Blessed be."
"Bless you, young man. It's going to rain."
"I know."
Carolyn and Luis paused in front of him for several minutes. Carolyn gasped with delight.
"He's playing 'Untitled' by The Cure from Disintegration!" She grabbed for Luis's hand.
"Aye, mamacita," replied Luis. It was a reference to their joke that most of the Latinos they knew loved The Cure. Carolyn chuckled and snuggled her head into Luis's Joy Division tshirt.
The album was one of Elias's favorites. He knew little time and place, or whether music was for young people or no. He had learned many of the songs by ear quite quickly. The drone soothed him.
Occasionally he would be joined by an incredible cellist or some bucket players, both of whom loved adding rhythmical changes to their collaborations. One day he asked the cellist's name. "Rico," a velvety voice replied. The bucket guys were usually gone before chitchat. Sometimes they brought a beatboxer. One time they had an opera singer.
Nanette would usually collect him around 3AM, though sometimes the police would shut Night Town down early. Elias wasn't sure why he and Nanette had never tried to be lovers, but they had separate rooms.
Elias would often dream of his beloved instrument, the drone vibrating with his heartbeat, all the way through his extremities.
**
Ping turned a couple of corners from his parents' car dealership. The night was young and humid, preparing for rain. He stopped on the corner. Elias was out early, with his sign on his instrument case introducing himself. Ping had never really stopped to listen; it was always so late when he was out. He must know it's about to rain, Ping thought. He immediately knew the man had been sitting there for almost one of his full shifts, as well.
"It's going to rain."
"I was just about to say that."
Elias started up. Tonight it was a Breton song. Late Medieval. He had actually played in a Medieval ensemble about eight years previous. Ping was astonished at the quality of the music. He closed his eyes rapturously. At the song's conclusion, he pressed a crisp twenty dollar bill into Elias's hand.
"Stay clear of the bandits of the Night Town. Keep making that gorgeous music. Blessed be."
"Bless you, young man. It's going to rain."
"I know."
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