Downfall Of Amplification -Phan-

blue meltdowns

The new seat set up at Howell Productions squeaks when I lean back too far. My desk is pretty bare as it is only my second week here. It's a dark redwood that's reflective. I have some scattered lyrics in a corner and paperwork laid out on the front. Mike and I went out for another drink last night and he told me I had the job permanently. It was a relief. I'm not sure I could find anything else even remotely as grand as this. Mike comes out of his office a lot, leans on his door and chats with me. He seems interested in what I have to say. He says he misses having someone to talk to. Dan had checked out years ago. And I almost feel bad for Dan. But I can't because I don't know how to read him. He's blank, a book without words. Page after empty page of mystery.

He stays in his office most of the time. I'm not sure what exactly he does in there. Once in a while a singer from the radio will slip and stay for hours. Whenever they exit they seem excited and more upbeat than before. I truly wonder what they do. They probably work on music, I suppose. But what about Dan makes them glow afterwards?

He seems fond of dark colors, mostly wearing black. I've noticed he likes designer and often is contemporary with his outfit choices. His kept style almost seems outlandish when compared to his personal self. His hair is always unkempt, long and curled. His eyes set deep from lack of sleep or hangovers. He's nowhere near ugly in any way. Everyone knows that. He's just a pretty guy projecting anything but. I remember when he would embrace that pretty-ness to him. The small poster hung on my best friends wall had him smiling wickedly, eyes painted black, curled deep with the smile. His hands were hanging behind his head candidly. If you'd look at the poster and him now you'd think it wasn't the same guy.

Always at five thirty, never changed, Dan will make his way out of the office and sit on the roof. Then when Mike is done at six he returns and they slide out together. Mike told me last night that they always go to this bar on the weekdays after work. Dan get's piss drunk and wallows about the artists today and how he wished they had something more to them. Mike listens and agrees always asking Dan to make more music.

I remember back to the conversation, "He always complains about these young kids and how they are only interested in fame. Like it's the end goal." Mike shakes his head and downs the last bit of his drink, "But then will never do anything to change them."

"Can he change them?" I ask timidly.

Mike pulls his lips into a fine line, "I don't know." He taps on the bar in thought.

I shrug my shoulders to try and rid the pressure of the conversation, "I guess he's reserving the good ideas for himself then."

Mike huffs disappointingly, "I've tried everything to help him. You know that?" Mike looks me in the eyes and I nod, "I really have." His eyes drift away from my face and focus on nothing in particular, "I don't know what else to do. He still writes songs, I know that. He doesn't think they're any good."

"That's such a shame." I agree and rub my finger against the cool glass, "Maybe he needs some time?"

"That's what I was hoping. Kinda lost that hope after two years." Mike mumbles something incoherent. I'm almost positive I wasn't meant to hear it anyway, "I'm hoping that if I take some pressure off of him at work that'll help. That's why you were hired."

I hum as an agreement and sip at my drink, "I used to listen to his music a lot in highschool."

"Really?" Mike smiles, "Not just Brights?"

"Yeah, no. I had his album on CD and would listen to it a lot. It's crazy how I'm working for him now." I sigh at the memory. Freshman year Phil would be beyond ecstatic to hear of this. Now Dan seems less like how he was when he was younger. He is different. Nothing wrong with that. He seems more human. Not that Phil has any right to judgment.