Impulse - Phan (discontinued)

chapter seven - phil

chapter seven - phil

I usually try not to associate myself with any type of crowd, but I have to say. I'm either an outcast or a theatre nerd. Neither are desirable, neither are unhappy positions. So I am a quite happy outcasted theatre nerd who could probably quote various Shakespeare plays when put of the spot. Martyn scoffed at me last time I talked about some famous plays. I was talking about the obvious plays like Hamlet, Macbeth, and A Midsummer Night's Dream, but also things like A Middle-Class Gentleman by Moliere. 

Much like how Dan can spout facts about quantum mechanics and string theory and complicated physics, I can tell you 'Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none.' or 'We know what we are, but know not what we may be.' or maybe 'Better three hours too soon than a minute too late.', but one of my personal favorites: 'No legacy is so rich as honesty.' and 'If music be the food of love, play on.'.

I'm sitting in bed, waiting to be able to say today instead of tomorrow. It's late and I'm dizzy. Not the 'the room is spinning' dizzy, the 'I feel vaguely like I'm in a porch swing' dizzy. It's unsettling at first, worrying me slightly, but the non-existent shaking dies away as I readjust my laptop on my lap. I'm searching plays.

I'm doing it to distract myself from the impending essay due dates. Halloween is this weekend, Dan isn't excited. He says the scary movies and people dressing up like serial killers puts him off. He sarcastically said he hadn't the faintest idea why it would make him feel concerned in the slightest for his safety or the mental state of other people around him. 

I want it to be November so we can be a month closer to Christmas and snow. We're supposed to get snow the first week of the next month, so I'm incredibly excited. It feels like it's been proper ages since I've last seen a flurry, but it's only been a year. I'm also maybe just a little big excited for Martyn to come back from University. 

I stop my play search to lean my head against the wall, closing my eyes and rubbing them with my hands. I roll my neck around, trying to get it to crack and think of Dan. What a surprise. I've thought of Dan. I wonder if Dan cracks his neck when he rolls it. It's so annoying when it doesn't but you can feel the tension of it. It's on the brink of releasing the pop but you just can't turn your neck any farther or you'll pull a muscle. 

With nothing else to do, I text him, asking him the question I had just contemplated silently in my head. He replies almost instantaneously. It appears I am not the only one awake, stressing over the essays. We've both had ours done and turned in for a few days now, but we haven't heard anything from the teachers. 

'One out of ten times my neck cracks when I roll it. That tension? My old buddy since I was four.' 

I glance at his response. There's another message he's sent.

'The urge and impulse to scratch an itch is like a tic. You do it to relieve something. In most people's case, the itch to stop itching.' 

I pick up my phone. He sends another.

'You can hold your breath and control your breathing, but when you're holding your breath, eventually you have to breath. That's what it's like to hold back a tic. To refrain from itching that mosquito bite until it builds up inside where your entire body is itching. Then a simple action wipes it all away.' 

I stare at my screen. How do you respond to that? 

'Oh. I never really thought about it.'

I send it. I move my mouse around on the website that's showing me a pdf of Hamlet. I go back to google and search 'The Music Man'. I pull up a pdf of the musical. I scroll through, stopping at the first song. I go to YouTube and plug in my headphones. Brass instruments preface the seven minute long opening song. 

The first two minutes and twenty seconds are all instrumental before they start talking. There's a man calling about River City. The riders of the train start chanting about cash and a man repeats 'whaddya talk' and someone is talking about territory and the Model T Ford. 'Hill?' 'Never worries about his line?' 'Professor Harold Hill?' I smile at the songs. 

'When the man dances, certainly boys, what else? The piper pays him!'

I text Dan. He responds confused:

'What are you on about?'

They're singing about Iowa Stubbornness. 'We can stand touching noses for a week at a time and never see eye to eye.' I almost laugh at the comical lines of the song. As the long ending closes I click on another song titled: 'You Got Trouble'. It's a scene from the movie. 

'The Music Man. The musical.' 

Hill starts to sing about trouble in River City. How the six pockets in a billiards table will turn a gentleman unto a bum with starts with B that rhymes with P and that stands for Pool. I smile brightly. I listen through the soundtrack, I realize that the overture at the beginning has snippets of each song. I yawn as Dan texts me again.

'I have no idea what you're talking about.' 

I smile as I close my laptop, setting it on the floor. I click off my lamp and slide further under the covers. I bring my phone towards my face, texting back.

'It's a musical you nerd.'

I send it and lay down, glancing out the window. Mr. Lyon has been very lenient about when we're turning in our projects about the inclinometers because some kids couldn't meet often. We just have to put ours together and we'll be finished with it. 

'Yeah. Just like I can tell you that string theory is part of theoretical physics and is a framework of particles replaces by one dimensional objects, and you can tell me how the key change in a song affects the mood.'

We often bicker like this late at night. It's all fun though, because we both know how to joke with one another. 

'Yeah man, that C major to C minor struck a CHORD.'

I stifle a laugh as his response comes through.

'I wish I could modify a geiger counter to measure how stupid you are but sadly it wouldn't work because you'd be off the charts.' 

I raise an eyebrow. 

'Off the charts amazing.'

He replies. 

'Not what I meant, but your point is valid.'

A/N

Be freaking grateful. It's 12:30 am. Omg my geiger counter jab is hilarious am I right. I made that up I'm actually proud. Okay. I'm really tired like Phil so Ima go to sleep. (omg technically phil's birthday)

1/30/16

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