Side Burneius the Mundane
Qoutact II
(This scene opens with Mollyandria entering Side Burneius’ chamber.)
Why so glum my dear Burneius? What burden is weighing on your heart?
My dear Mollyandria, I feel as if I am destined to bare the curse of making music with hands of my own, for eternity. I feel that the gods are refusing me a collaboration I most desire.
What is it my love? Tell me Burneius, what events have been placed on you to cause such anguish to your soul?
You remember Dayarian the lad that helped me with my paper a while back? Well he sent me a message just the other day. It read “Can u play gitbox with u?” to which I replied “um… conflicted. What were u saying?” he answered, “Can I play guitar and stuff wit… U?” I, a man who finds no greater joy then sharing a glorious thing such as music with others, has one answer to that question, “U sure can.” I must admit, my ever-loving sunflower, that I felt a great deal of excitement after that textversation. For Dayarian and I had been talking for a while about creating a sound unattainable to the unknowing and now we were to take our first step into the door of our destiny. What would we find just beyond that door ahead of us? Would it be some sort of monstrosity or some sort of beautiful elixir made of beauty, fun, and meaning? Does it even matter? But a man must confront himself and take a risk. I entered that unknown, my love. I walked right in. Your mind is wondering what I saw in that unknown just beyond the door. Well, my dear I saw myself in a room of filth all alone with a guitar. At first shock consumed my body but then I saw a vision. This was one of the most beautiful visions I had ever seen. It was Dayarian in his armor of cotton and denim ready for battle. His axe was hung low like those of the inter circle of the Great Rock Wars. It was real I tell you. You must believe me my love we experienced a new level of existence.
That sounds epic Burneius, absolutely divine but why are you wearing melancholy like a cloak?
Because love, it was just a vision. It was only the product of an over eager imagination. All that door offered was that room of filth. There was no Dayarian there, neither collaboration nor just two fellow men spinning yarns. It was only me I tell you. Me and Me alone. With only my trusty axe by my side. I felt that I should send a message to Dayarian to make sure trouble had not found him and he was still planning to journey through the door. He was kind enough to reply, “Hopefully… I’m going to a party but I don’t know how long I will be there…” Even the blindest man could see the future of this situation. Dayarian will not be arriving this evening.
Oh my gods Burneius, I wish I could help you carry this burden thrust upon your chest. What did you do my sweet? I believe if I was you I would weep like a willow.
What could I do? What man is prepared for such a debacle? I tell you my sunflower I was struck with the powers from above. The same Jove I thought was plotting against me granted me the strength of one whole folk singer. The same Juno I believed to be cursing me gave me the power of a voice that sounded like Tweedy and Dylan doing nasty things together. So what did I do my love? I did what I was born to do. I played Cletus Whiteheart songs with no shame of being a tribute band. It was satisfying but a void surrounded the room. The empty spot where Dayarian belonged. This feeling of emptiness is the reason I left that door ajar. And it will remain that way forever.
Oh Burneius, how can a man like you be forged by anything other than pure gold of the gods?
Mollyandria my world, I am half the person you are. You, the bright smile and joy of a sunflower and I, the big hairy weeping willow. Could I really exist with out the joy of a sunflower? Not even Venus could find her way into a form that would compare.
You are a cheesy one Side Burneius but charming on occasion.
Qoutact II
(This scene opens with Mollyandria entering Side Burneius’ chamber.)
Why so glum my dear Burneius? What burden is weighing on your heart?
My dear Mollyandria, I feel as if I am destined to bare the curse of making music with hands of my own, for eternity. I feel that the gods are refusing me a collaboration I most desire.
What is it my love? Tell me Burneius, what events have been placed on you to cause such anguish to your soul?
You remember Dayarian the lad that helped me with my paper a while back? Well he sent me a message just the other day. It read “Can u play gitbox with u?” to which I replied “um… conflicted. What were u saying?” he answered, “Can I play guitar and stuff wit… U?” I, a man who finds no greater joy then sharing a glorious thing such as music with others, has one answer to that question, “U sure can.” I must admit, my ever-loving sunflower, that I felt a great deal of excitement after that textversation. For Dayarian and I had been talking for a while about creating a sound unattainable to the unknowing and now we were to take our first step into the door of our destiny. What would we find just beyond that door ahead of us? Would it be some sort of monstrosity or some sort of beautiful elixir made of beauty, fun, and meaning? Does it even matter? But a man must confront himself and take a risk. I entered that unknown, my love. I walked right in. Your mind is wondering what I saw in that unknown just beyond the door. Well, my dear I saw myself in a room of filth all alone with a guitar. At first shock consumed my body but then I saw a vision. This was one of the most beautiful visions I had ever seen. It was Dayarian in his armor of cotton and denim ready for battle. His axe was hung low like those of the inter circle of the Great Rock Wars. It was real I tell you. You must believe me my love we experienced a new level of existence.
That sounds epic Burneius, absolutely divine but why are you wearing melancholy like a cloak?
Because love, it was just a vision. It was only the product of an over eager imagination. All that door offered was that room of filth. There was no Dayarian there, neither collaboration nor just two fellow men spinning yarns. It was only me I tell you. Me and Me alone. With only my trusty axe by my side. I felt that I should send a message to Dayarian to make sure trouble had not found him and he was still planning to journey through the door. He was kind enough to reply, “Hopefully… I’m going to a party but I don’t know how long I will be there…” Even the blindest man could see the future of this situation. Dayarian will not be arriving this evening.
Oh my gods Burneius, I wish I could help you carry this burden thrust upon your chest. What did you do my sweet? I believe if I was you I would weep like a willow.
What could I do? What man is prepared for such a debacle? I tell you my sunflower I was struck with the powers from above. The same Jove I thought was plotting against me granted me the strength of one whole folk singer. The same Juno I believed to be cursing me gave me the power of a voice that sounded like Tweedy and Dylan doing nasty things together. So what did I do my love? I did what I was born to do. I played Cletus Whiteheart songs with no shame of being a tribute band. It was satisfying but a void surrounded the room. The empty spot where Dayarian belonged. This feeling of emptiness is the reason I left that door ajar. And it will remain that way forever.
Oh Burneius, how can a man like you be forged by anything other than pure gold of the gods?
Mollyandria my world, I am half the person you are. You, the bright smile and joy of a sunflower and I, the big hairy weeping willow. Could I really exist with out the joy of a sunflower? Not even Venus could find her way into a form that would compare.
You are a cheesy one Side Burneius but charming on occasion.
*Moral of story, other people have feelings too.
(A different artist's depiction of the possible fate of Dayarian)***Tell me, where is the hate in this?***
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