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Post by Mo Evans on May 8, 2007 12:37:58 GMT -5
Would pass me by 'Cause you know I'd walk A thousand miles [/b] Mo sang, flicking her head slightly to get the stray strands of blonde hair out of her eyes as it fell down into them. She tried to ignore them as she played, remembering every movement she had to make as if it was something as natural as breathing. It was a song she played often, after all, so it was a given that she would feel confident playing it. Mo started moving her head now to the beat, feeling more confident and looser now that she knew that Patrick didn't think she was a disgrace to music. Mo had been playing for five years, and she'd been playing the piano for seven years. She hoped that she was quite experienced in both instruments, although admittedly she wasn't the best nor the most graceful when it came to playing it. Truthfully, she was more used to playing Downtown with a plectrum, but she didn't mind. "So go downtown, things'll be great when you're downtown - no finer place, for sure," Mo sang, shutting her eyes now as she played, acting as if she was totally in another world. Everything forgotten - the fact she was sitting in Patrick's apartment playing his guitar had been forgotten. It was just her and the guitar now, as she sang along, a smile on her face.][/size][/blockquote][/ul] If I could Just see you Tonight
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Post by Patrick Follman on May 9, 2007 17:39:32 GMT -5
and life ain't no beauty show we don't know where tomorrow endsPatrick watched, silently, eyes and attention completely trained on her. A smile on his face- he took a moment to take another glance at the rest of the room. He looked back at Mo before quietly and carefully standing up, then limped his way over to the guitar case leaning against the closet. Carefully he unzipped the case and pulled out the silver Gibson, carrying it with extreme caution as he made his way back to the bed. He eased himself back onto the mattress, wincing slightly with the guitar in his lap. For a few moments he just watched her hand movements before propping the guitar up under his arm, the strap resting on his leg. Patrick sighed, sliding his left hand up and down the fret board then "strumming" without actually hitting the strings. Beginning quite cautious and quiet, he began to hit the strings, his hands miming her's. His fingers moved along the frets with ease, his eyes trained on her hands as she played.
He didn't really know the song, it was familiar- he'd played it maybe once or twice, but he'd never memorized it. After a few moments he stared down at his hands, now mimicking the sound. Patrick smiled as the two sounds melded together, yet he stayed silent, not singing as she had. A soft blush flared up in his cheeks when he glanced up at her, but he quickly refocused himself on the guitar. It was funny how everything seemed to wash away when he picked up an instrument, the notes bringing a bit of light when everything felt so dark. The song was playing in his head, her voice making up for his own urge to sing as he played. Downtown, everything’s waiting for you... He bit his lip, hard, barely noticing the pain as he leaned forward a bit, gaze flickering between his hands and her's, mind trained on the sound. There are movie shows, downtown... Maybe you know some little places to go to.. Where they never close, downtown...
The music said it all. Made him forget... everything that ever happened. Everything just drifted away. The room, the apartment building, the city, the world. The house, the fire, the parade, the memories- they all melted away. Nothing left. He closed his eyes and titled his head toward his chest, opening them a few moments later and staring at his feet. Everything drifted away.. everything... and he smiled.
and when we're sad it's kind of a drag
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Post by Mo Evans on May 9, 2007 18:00:02 GMT -5
It's always times like these When I think of you [/b] Mo said with a smile. She stood up and very carefully put the acoustic he'd give her away again, careful not to leave finger prints on it as he'd seemingly cleaned it so well. Patrick was obviously very, very devoted to the instruments that he made the music with as well as the music itself. She looked over at him and smiled again. "You're really good, y'know... That was incredible," Mo told him. She wasn't surprised he could pick up on the notes so easily, he was obviously extremely talented with music, but Mo had already known that. "I've heard you play before," she added, zipping the acoustic back up again. "You keep your guitars spotless," she added, and then sat down on the bed beside him. "Thanks for letting me play on your guitar, though, they obviously mean an awful lot to you," Mo said. She glanced at her watch quickly, just to see what the time was. She did have a set time to be home but it wasn't even coming close to that right now so she needn't worry. She just wanted to be aware of what the time was, because time went so fast and seemingly disappeared double quickwhen you were having fun. Mo looked around his room again, feeling more confident and happier than before. It was amazing to her that Patrick had joined in with her playing, that had boosted her confidence quite a bit. She was no where as good as him, although she did think she did possess some kind of talent with music, it paled in comparision to that of Patrick's. If she wasn't so musically shy she might have asked him to record something with her, but she felt inferior to him in that area and she felt like asking him to record anything with her was just laughable considering how good he was.[/ul][/blockquote][/size] And I wonder If you ever Think of me
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Post by Patrick Follman on May 9, 2007 19:22:02 GMT -5
something is wrong with the sum of us that I cant seem to erasePatrick watched as Mo got up, silently observing as she so carefully put the acoustic back into it's case. He'd probably clean it later- as he did all his guitars, whether dirty or not. He polished his guitars, cleaned them until they shined, brand new. He glanced around the room, sighing a bit, smiling at the thought of the Fender he'd ordered. Black stratocaster- deluxe HSS... It'd be coming in soon, a few days, and he couldn't wait. He couldn't help but smile at her comment about their duet, as he readjusted his hat on his head, but still didn't say a word. "I'm not that great..." He whispered, eyebrows furrowing and he frowned a bit. Jack had always told him he was wasting his time, told him that he would never be good at anything- that no one would ever want Patrick. After five years being passed around and two years of redundant lecture, it was hard not to believe it. "Don't cheat yourself, you're pretty damn good." He grinned, elbowing her playfully, and slowly let the Gibson slide down until it was flat in his lap. He plucked at the strings, occasionally pushing on the frets. The notes were quiet, but existent, though they quickly died off in the new found silence of the apartment. His eyes grew wide and shot up at her when she said that she'd heard him before. A blush quickly flamed his cheeks and he felt them get hot, fast. He tucked his chin toward his chest in a bit of embarrassment, his hat shadowing his eyes. He'd played in the band room a few times at school, when he'd thought he was alone.. but evidently not. A sudden wave of insecurity flowed through him but it quickly faded, and he smiled at the mention of his guitars being so clean.
"I try... I mean, to keep them clean... and all..." He glanced over at the Yamaha's case, and pointed at it. "I've had that one since... well.. I was thirteen I think. My first guitar." Patrick smiled and patted the Gibson in his lap. "This one's prolly about, a year and a half old, maybe two, n' my bass is a little older than the acoustic." He stared down at the Gibson, a grin still worn on his face. "I'm getting a Fender stratocaster soon." His grin grew wider, like just thinking about it was the greatest thing. "It's a deluxe HSS...." He stopped himself and blushed, quickly glancing up at Mo then back down at the Gibson. "Hah, I better shut up now before I talk you to death." Patrick blushed again and stared down at the guitar.
how can I be the only one, without a smile on my face
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Post by Mo Evans on May 9, 2007 20:01:07 GMT -5
'Cause everything's so wrong And I don't belong [/b] Mo said to him with a smile. "I like it," Mo said. She was interested in hearing about Patrick's guitars and such, she found him such an interesting person. Mo wasn't too sure what his outlook on himself was, but she was totally charmed by everything he did. Mo was absolutely crazy about him, and she looked over at him, looking into his eyes and smiling before she broke her gaze away from him, smiling at the floor. Mo knew that he didn't feel anything for her, he hardly knew her what so ever, so it wasn't surprising. Mo kind of knew he never would feel anything like that anyway, they were just... a bit too different. Opposites did attract, but Mo doubted she was the type of person Patrick would ever find it feasible to have a crush on. She was just like everyone's kid sister, she wasn't ever seen in any other kind of light. "My first guitar was like a fender rip off from some shop," Mo said with a smirk. "Still, it played fine, and it sounded alright, and I learnt on it," Mo told him. "I still have it at the home, but I never use it because it just looks so sad and beaten that using it would just... add to it's distress..." Mo said, and then realized what she had said. "I mean... figuratively," she said with a small smile. Mo was the kind of tree-hugger eco-friendly person, she fought heavily for animal rights, and when the oppotunity presented itself then she'd fight for human rights as well. Mo was a very driven girl, she supposed. She liked having something to aim for, something to fight for and make into a crusade. Mo never, ever gave up on anything, which was why she was still sitting here with Patrick even though she knew quite well he'd never like her. At least they could be friends, right? Even if nothing more, at least they had that.[/size][/blockquote][/ul] Living in your Precious memories
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Post by Patrick Follman on May 10, 2007 13:35:16 GMT -5
this is the sound that I make these are the words I chosePatrick smiled, propping the guitar up in his lap and strumming, eyes focused on the fret board as he played, his hands fluently changing frets. And even though the moment passed me by, I still can't turn away... The words pounded in his head. Abruptly, he stopped playing, his fingers still forced down on the strings on the frets, his other hand frozen. He stared down at his fingers for a moment, then sighed. His expression became blank and he shook his head, his eyes quickly flicking up to Mo when she mentioned her guitar. He offered a half-hearted smirk and quickly his gaze fell to the floor. After a deep breath, and another shake of his head, he refocused himself. "Have you ever been to like... a recording studio or anything?" A sudden wave of nervousness was kicking in. He always stuttered and paused, usually saying "like" a bit too much whenever he was nervous. Patrick fidgeted slightly and adjusted the guitar in his lap, trying to make himself more comfortable.
His back pressed against the wall, a pillow or two stacked underneath his knees. The Gibson shimmered beneath the lamp light in the room, and Patrick glanced around at the rest of the small apartment. A small smile came to his lips as Phry hopped onto the mattress, purring quite loudly. She rubbed against Patrick's side and pressed her head against the guitar as he ran his hand down her back before rubbing her ears. She jumped into his lap and he winced as she laid down on his knees, then stretched herself out to her own comfort. Patrick just smiled at her, whilst the pain that was stabbing in his right leg, and glanced back down at the guitar. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he began playing again, the sound quiet and rather subtle.
After another deep breath he began to strum a little faster, the song getting a bit louder. Cause all the dreams you never thought you'd lose, got tossed along the way.. And letters that you never meant to send, get lost or thrown away... Patrick bit his lip as he watched his hands move, keeping himself silent. He'd never sung in front of anyone, he'd always been so self conscious to. Though he didn't think she'd laugh at him, there was still a burning sensation in his stomach, that old stressor that told him not to. Save himself the embarrassment if she did laugh. He shook his head slightly, the silent argument with himself ensuing. It's lonely where you are come back down, and I won't tell 'em your name.
somehow the right thing to say, just won't come out
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Post by Mo Evans on May 12, 2007 14:34:58 GMT -5
'Cause I need you And I miss you [/b] Mo said. "I've never been overly confident playing infront of audiences, let alone recording myself and then listening to my car crash of a song," Mo said with a sad smile. "What about you?" she asked. The truth was, Mo wouldn't ever want to make herself that vunerable again. Playing live had been a shamble for her, and playing while being recorded was even worse. No one but herself and a select few people had ever heard what had come out of those demo sessions, and Mo intended it to remain that way, after all, to put herself on the line again for critics was to hear she was no good, anyway. It was basically setting herself up for failure - she wasn't strong enough or good enough to put herself out like that. Not yet, and, perhaps, maybe never. "What bands do you like then, Patrick?" Mo asked again, wondering indeed what his influences were. She half expected them to be numerous and spanning genres, but she wasn't entirely sure. She knew Patrick was a good musician, there was absolutely no secret in that. Patrick was modest as well, never showed off about the fact that his ability to play obviously exceeded a lot of people who were actually in mainstream music today. [/size][/blockquote][/ul] And now I wonder...
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