Kamikaze Pianist

Kamikaze Pianist

I’ve always been drawn to the piano ever since my mum had one laying around our old living room in England. The way in the summer time the long lonely hours of mid day casting itself upon the keys as if the sun light and the keys were lovers. And I’d play it; Dillon, O! I’d play one handed disharmonic symphonies while my other hand dangled free. Ever since then at times in my life when I was drowning in deep negative thoughts there is always a piano to be played. Tucked in a corner with dusty keys and out of tune, but that doesn’t matter. It doesn’t even matter that you do not know how to play it – just let your hands run back to the god that once held you so tight – before one of you let go. And if only you could remember whose palms slipped from who’s, but you can’t; so you play the Grand Piano. That is what I would do in the house that was slowly demolishing itself with parents whose faces are not as clear as their backs. It was how I cried when my tears were dry, it was how I screamed when my throat was raw, it was how I touched the sky although I was small, it was how I breathed air for the first time in years clearing the cobwebs from my soul. And it works so well because all the parts of life are not tuned on key, or on time with a metronome, but purely flawed in raw abrasive instances echoing around dusty piano cords struck by small mallets. And what else is there to do but to throw those mallets flying into the chords – make the piano wail with all the torment exploding inside of you like a thousand light bulbs overloading and raining glass shrapnel onto an aristocratic dinner party. The blood shall rain from your fingertips in pure discordant fury – as living creatures flee hurriedly from the ghastly sound – the cacophony blares on as light, time, and space tear. And with tears in your eyes your reach the conclusion of the piece. With tears in your eyes!
As your fingers kamikaze the last mash of keys your heart stops briefly – the world collapses, everything slows to a halt but your fingers moving towards the aircraft carrier keys at a speed that seems almost stopped.

Then it happens: impact.

Fín.


© Liam Elliott 2007. All Rights Reserved.