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8in8- Stories Created Around the Songs From the Album: Day 31 of My July Challenge
So this is it, guys! This is the very last day of My July Challenge. You guys have been... so enthusiastic, more than I could have hoped for. So thanks so much for all your comments and encouragements.
I have tried to post this story so many times that I'm actually not sure if it's on the site or not- either the formatting of the piece screws me up, or somehow the site deletes it. I wanted to do something really, really special for the last day of the Challenge, and it occured to me that this story was just sitting on a hard drive, waiting for it's day to come, and I should fight for it's right to be seen.
8in8 is an album by the band of the same name. Neil Gaiman, Ben Folds, Damian Kulash, and Amanda Palmer came together and decided to try and make eight songs in eight hours and sell them for charity. They ended up with five songs in five hours, but the songs were so completely lovely that I think we can forgive them, can't we? *wink*
I've had the idea to do something like this for quite a long time, and I actually have another one that has been a Work in Progress for close to six months somewhere on my computer for Florence + the Machine's album Lungs.
This is a collection of very small short stories for the 8in8 album- each story is a little scribble for each song on the album. They're not all perfect- I'm not quite happy with Nikola Tesla, and I have this sneaking suspicion that I have interpretated the songs completely wrong (and mis-spelled interpretated) and therefore this is worthless. But it was fun.
I do not even pretend to own these songs, because they are far better things than I could ever write. They belong to Neil Gaiman, Ben Folds, Damian Kulash, Amanda Palmer, and possibly some other people, but I don't know their names. This is me trying not to steal work or violate copyright, so this shall be my disclaimer- I don't own the rights to these songs. I also do not own the songs themselves, something I should really change.
Here's the link to where you can listen to and buy these songs http://music.amandapalmer.net/album/nighty-night. They are incredibly awesome and only cost a dollar.
I also know the formatting on this is probably strange, but I just wanted to focus on getting it up. I'll work on getting the formatting right over the week. Note- Yes it was, and I think I've fixed it.
I fully apologize for the long introduction. Enjoy the stories, and thanks for all the wonderful support you gave during the Challenge!
Nikola Tesla
I don’t even know his name.
I met him last night in a diner. All I wanted from him was a light for my smoke. The light was on my counter in my apartment and the only other person in the diner was giving me a disapproving look for smoking in the diner.
All I wanted was a light.
But he looked me in the eye, something guys don’t do. Sure, they look at me. They look at my legs, they look at my tits, they never look at my face. And the fact that he did made something in me jump.
And he really looked at me, y’know? He didn’t want me to be his whore. He didn’t want me to be a one-night stand. He looked at me like he could see through me and gave me my light.
He stood up and held out his hand. I took it. I’m still not sure why. I guess it was the fact he looked at me more than anything.
We walked hand in hand through the streets. He had eyes that were bright in spite of being tired and his hand was warm and his mustache curved up when he smiled and when he kissed me I felt alive.
After he kissed me, I said “Why?” and he said “Because you’re special.”
We walked hand in hand some more before we watched my apartment. We told each other things we’d never told anyone else before. We walked until we got to my apartment and I pulled him into my room.
The next morning we both knew. He kissed me goodbye and said he’d be back one day.
“Is that a one night stand answer?” I asked. He grinned and kissed me on the forehead and somehow that was tenderer than the kiss on the lips.
I don’t know his name. I don’t know his background. He was like the mystery man I dreamed of from my childhood, that would come and take me away from all this shit. I don’t know who he is, only the secrets he told me that night, ones he hadn’t told anybody but me and ones I sure as hell won’t tell you.
I haven’t seen him for decades. I’m getting old, and people have long since stopped asking me why I have given up on dating. My friends have grandkids and I have a dog named Tesla because my mystery man’s middle name was Nikola and I found it ironic that the thing I’d spend the rest of my life would be connected to the thing I never would.
It’s been years.
But that’s okay.
Because yesterday I heard his voice on the radio and somehow it still made my soul sing.
Because the Origami
Dear Mum and Dad,
Hopefully if the mail lady doesn’t crush it with her mail, this will be in the mailbox. It’s a little dove. I’ve written the message on the inside coz my friend Auralie said it was cool when people do stuff like this.
I’m staying with Auralie right now. We’re being supersecret and quiet and stuff. She’s really cool. I go to school with her, and her family’s quiet.
Auralie has one brother, a cat named Rudolph coz when they got him she said he looked like a reindeer, and a Mum and Dad. I haven’t met her Mum and Dad, coz she says that they’ll be mad if they find out she’s keeping me in her room, but I listen to them at night when I’m playing on Auralie’s iPod and they’re very quiet.
I don’t wanna live at our house any more coz it’s not quiet. You and Dad are always fighting and it’s very loud. So I’m gonna live with Auralie from now on, coz she’s very cool. She’s reading this as I write it. She says hi.
Maybe if you stop fighting so much, I can come and visit sometime.
I have to go now because Auralie’s Mum and Dad’s favorite TV show is on and this means while they’re busy we can sneak out and put this in the mailbox.
Sincerely,
Tommy.
One Tiny Thing
The world goes on
The stars still shine
The moon still hangs where it should
The girls next door still compete in the motorcycle tournaments
The dog crap from my neighbor’s backyard still stinks
There’s traffic everyday for five minutes downtown
I still have to pay my rent
Life goes on
But without one tiny thing
And that is
That you are not lounging on the back porch
That you are not watching Sunday Night Football
That you are not sleeping in my bed
That your closet holds only my clothes
That there is only one razor in the bathroom
One tiny thing.
Twelve Line Song
Some things are very strange, you know?
Sometimes you’ll just be going along your normal, everyday life and suddenly WHAM!!! Something happens! Can you believe that? Things happen!
Like, say you’re just relaxing, taking a bath. It’s been a normal sort of day, got up, went to work, or school, whichever you prefer, came home, and decided that you wanted a bath. Funny what human beings want, right? Some of it’s really good for you and some of its absolute shite.
Anyway, the bath. You’re just lying there, maybe playing some music, maybe you’ve got bubbles, maybe you’ve got a mimosa, the window’s open, nice breeze, and you’re just there.
And suddenly this thing SPLOOSHES into your bath! And you look around wildly, trying to figure out what this thing is that’s just interrupted your relaxation, and it takes you a few minutes to find it, but then you do, and you’re stunned.
Because you’re holding this squirrel, and it’s twitching in your hands, and then it stops twitching and you just know that’s its dead.
And you stare at this wet, furry, dead creature in your hands, and you don’t get it. Because just a minute ago it was alive and now it’s not and you don’t understand why. Why is it dead? Why did it decide to die? It must’ve been planned, people (and animals) don’t just randomly jump into other people’s bathtubs.
So it killed itself. Why did it kill itself? Why did it, how could it? Was it to save someone? Was there a lady squirrel involved? Or is the lady squirrel you’re holding?
And you make this sudden little noise, this laugh, and you’re horrified with yourself, because you shouldn’t laugh, a squirrel just killed itself in your bathtub.
And then you cry, because a minute ago it was alive and now it’s not.
Some things are very strange, you know?
I’ll Be My Mirror
She thinks of her youth, when she played on hearts and tossed around her body like it were dice, when she didn’t care how many men’s hearts she broke or even if they were the hearts of men.
She thinks of coming home every night and her parents glaring at her, demanding to know where she’d been so late at night. She thinks of stumbling and giving them the smile of the drink and assuring them, slurringly, that everything was all right.
She thinks of when she found out that there was no doubt that she was pregnant. She thinks of wondering who the father was and knowing she would never know.
She thinks of holding the child in her arms and rocking it and smiling at it and how beautiful she thought it was.
She thinks of watching her little girl get older, thinks of when she reached her fifth birthday.
She then thinks of the car accident. Of the nurses telling her she’d never walk without a limp, but not caring, because her baby girl wasn’t breathing, she was gone, and it is all her fault.
So she screams. She screams at herself in the mirror, not caring what anyone thinks because it makes her feel just a little bit better.
The Problem With Saints
I sit down on the park bench with a sack of honey-roasted peanuts next to Joan. Her hair is short, and her tunic hangs loose over the armor.
“Isn’t that heavy?” I ask. She shrugs.
“I have worn it in the heat of battle,” she says, voice strong. “I have worn it while rallying my country to victory. It does not concern me now.”
I shrug. “Okay.” I hold out the sack of peanuts. “Peanut?”
“Thank you.” She takes a peanut and pops it in her mouth.
“I do not like you English,” she informs me, French accent heavy.
“I know.”
“You are all right, however.”
“Thanks.”
“I shall spare you when I conquer your country and kill many of your kinsfolk.”
“I appreciate that.” I hold out the peanut bag to her and she takes more.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
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Dark December-
Wow.
First of all, wow.
Second of all, I can't believe your july challenge is over!
I'll miss a new post from you every single day of the month and knowing every time that it's going to be a work of art. Of course, I know that all of your posts, whether in the July Challenge or not, is a work of art. because they truly are. You are a very, very gifted author. Everything I've read from you i've liked. And loved. Including this.
You have left me satisfyed. sad that the challenge is over.....but satisfyed with the conclusion. Although I have never heard of 8in8 you did an amazing job...and know I have heard of them. :)
Once again, I'm really sad that the challenge is done, but I congradulate you thoroughly for doing it! Congrads congrads congrads congrads congrads!!!!!!!!!!!! (multiplied by an infinity of google-plexes.)
I look forward to reading more of your work, and I understand if you don't post anything for a while. You must be whipped from writing so much each day! haha!
I can not say this enough. Congradulations, I'll miss the challenge, aaaammmmaaazzziiinnngggg job on the ending, and hope you do this again!
Plus five million more congrads. Plus one.
Congradulations.
Summer Gal-
I don't even know what to say to that...
First off, thank you so much. It's so, so sweet of you to say that. :) I'm really, really glad you enjoyed it. It was a great deal of fun to do, and I'm so glad to know that people enjoyed it.
I'm kind of sad that the Challenge is over, too, actually. I wasn't sure how sad I would be- I'm doing several other projects currently, a lot of which involve me being out of the house all day and I didn't know if it would be a relief to have it done or not. But I am going to miss it, and my head is still automatically running on "I need to think of something to post!", which I find kind of amusing.
I'd highly recommend listening to 8in8 if you haven't already- I love it to pieces, and wrote this right after the album came out because I enjoyed it so much. Unfortunately, the site gave me trouble/I had writer's block/dog ate my homework/etc, so it took some time to get up here.
Thanks so much for all the enthusiasm- you've been one of the constant commenters for this, and I really appreciate it. It may indeed be a while before I post again- I honestly can't think of much to post right now. Maybe in a week or so. :)
Thanks so much for all your comments (this one included), and I'm glad you liked this piece and all the others,
December.
I wish I were pretty/I wish I were brave/If I owned this city/I would make it behave -Let the Rain, Sara Bareilles
Great collection!
Dark December~
Like Summer Gal said, I really enjoyed your July Challenge. It was such a cool idea to post something every day, and it must have been really hard to come up with something to write about each time. You should be very proud of yourself that you fulfilled the challenge.
I have never heard of 8 in 8 either, but now I will look it up on iTunes :)
This is a really great collection of 6 stories and poems. And each one of them was inspired by a song on the album?
I really like this because each one is very different from the next. And they're all very personal, I can really connect to the narrator in each of them. I also like how you're not afraid to use language and talk about controversial matters, especially in the first story, it's very bold and works well in creating an atmosphere for that character to live in.
I really can't choose which piece I liked the best.... I like them all in a different way.
I liked the atmosphere of Nikola Tesla
I liked the letter format of Because the Origami
I liked the slight spirituality of One Tiny Thing
I liked how Twelve Line Song made me laugh, feel sad, and then laugh again
I liked the sadness of I'll Be My Mirror
I liked the creativity of A Problem With Saints
Maybe you could put the title of each piece in bold, or make the type bigger. Because sometimes I wasn't sure where one piece ended and the other began. Sorry this comment is so long!
Great job!
-Reina
ReinaXC-
Thank you. It was tricky most days to come up with stuff to put up, I admit, but some pieces that I really like came out of it, so I'm okay with not automatically having something to put up every day. I did forget or not have time to post I think three days out of July. Maybe next year.
I'm not sure 8in8 are on iTunes. I tried to put a link up to where you could listen to the songs (I might have forgotten) and if there's not one there, they are also on YouTube to listen to. Every single title for the story is also the title of a song, so they should be easy to find. :)
Thanks. I had a great deal of fun playing about with this. I wanted them all to be different- like how One Tiny Thing was a poem and Because the Origami was a letter. They're all sort of connected by my certain style of writing, but it's a little more different than what I usually do.
I'm glad you liked all of them. I'm still not sure I like how I ended Nikola Tesla- something still feels kind of... not very good about it. I don't know. I'm probably just paranoid.
I'm going to try and fix the weird formatting over the week. I know it's a little strange- this story always gives me trouble. And don't worry about the long comment- I love them. :)
Also, thanks so much for the support you gave me over the course of the challenge. You're among the people who commented the most, and I really appreciate that. Thanks so much for all the enthusiasm.
Thanks for the comment, and glad you liked it,
December.
I wish I were pretty/I wish I were brave/If I owned this city/I would make it behave -Let the Rain, Sara Bareilles