Streak the Sky Chapter 1

I'm not a writer, in fact I'm not academic in any way what so ever. I make spelling and grammar mistakes and struggle sentances together fluently, but I love words. I love expressing different thoughts and feelings in any way I can and language seems to be such a good tool for this. I think this is what inspired me to write a book. It's not gonna be a piece of genius, it may not even be a good read, but I love it and if someone else enjoys it, well then that's a bonus.
I haven't finished it yet, infact it's al0ng way off but I wanted to share a taster and post the first chapter, as it is now, change is inevitable. Not because I think people are so excited to read it that they are longing for just a taster, but more because I'm so excited to share it with people that I wanted to do this. So if you read, thank you.
Here it is.

Streak the Sky

A novel by Joshua Turney

Chapter 1
If I could fold a map
“I wish the world was flat like the old days, then I could travel just by folding a map, no more airplanes or speed trains or freeways, there’d be no distance that could hold us back” – Death Cab for Cutie

“AS YOU TASTE THE BLOOD IN YOUR MOUTH, KNOW THAT YOU MADE ME THIS WAY, THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT AND NOW IT’S YOUR JUDGEMENT DAY!”
Darren screamed along, throwing himself about without control: he knew people were probably getting irritated as he slammed carelessly in to them, but he was too lost in the music to care. Noticing Darren’s enthusiasm the vocalist called him over and thrust the microphone violently in his face. “THIS IS JUDGEMENT DAY!” Darren yelled. Hearing his own voice ring out through the speakers just for a moment, he imagined what it would be like to one day be on that stage himself., He saw the band move with sporadic yet poetic movements, drifting through the flashing lights, soaking in the scene and pouring out their anger on the crowd. Darren wasn’t sure why this band was so angry or what inspired such hate within them, all he knew was he could relate to it, he had his own reasons for being angry and this was his was his way express it. “One day mum” he thought to himself. “One day dad, your judgement day will come, all you perfect people that stare at me with such disdain, you made me this way and your judgement day will come!”

Aaron was bored, the service had gone on for almost 3 hours now and if they played one more song he was quite sure he’d lose it. “I’m pretty sure even G-d was falling asleep by now.” He looked across at Lucy, she had her eyes closed and her hands raised, her voice was beautiful, so very beautiful, but something about her singing annoyed Aaron and he wasn’t sure what it was. He noticed his own monotonous lifeless voice singing along too. He’d heard the song a million times and threw out the words every Sunday without meaning or even thought. “It is my joy to honour you”, he laughed to himself. “Such a joy”, the sarcastic thought slipped in to his mind before he could stop it, and left him feeling guilty. “After all you’ve done for me G-d, I can’t even sit through a service without moaning, but does worshipping You have to be so boring?”

“Emily, Emily” he yelled again impatiently, she heard him the first time but needed a moment to gather her thoughts first. She gently placed her guitar down in to its stand as if she were lowering a sleeping baby in to its cot, and then calmly followed the voice toward her ever more impatient father. “About time” he remarked as she entered his study. “Have a seat darling” he said somewhat more calmly. “He has something important to say” she worried to herself. “I have some good news Emily” he looked at her like an eager child bursting to share something that was burning with excitement within him. “What’s that father?” she said forcing a smile in an attempt to conjure up the same enthusiasm. Truth was she was worried. He was just about to share the “exciting” news when the front door opened down stairs. “Oh good” Brian muttered to himself. “Your mother needs to hear this too, Tricia would you come up to my study please?”
A moment later she slipped through the door, gently closing it behind her as if she were trying to slip late in to a meeting and cause little disruption. She always entered Brian’s study with caution. She was rarely welcome there and when she was, she didn’t feel it. “Sit down Tricia”, Brian gestured his hand toward the empty chair next to where Emily sat, she smiled at her daughter while she nervously slipped in to the seat. Brian got straight to the point. “We are staying together, as a family, after the summer, we can still all live to....”. “But we agreed I was going to Nottingham” Emily interrupted and immediately regretted it seeing her father’s stern gaze fixed upon her. “Sorry dad” she nervously resigned. “We can still all live together as a family” he continued. “And you’re still going to Nottingham” he said directing his words toward Emily. “We’re going with you. You know that new church you were telling me about Emily, the one right in the centre? “Yes” Emily replied. “Well, I applied to be the vicar there. That’s where I was last weekend, I had an interview, and they just called. I got the job! Isn’t that great news Emily? You don’t have to live in some poor student house; we can find a nice house to all live in together” That wasn’t great news for Emily; she had been so looking forward to this freedom, the independence. “I knew this would all go wrong. He always messes things up for me” She rebuked the thought. “He’s just trying to help, he’s done so much for me - I should be grateful, I just wish he would see things from my point of view, or at least allow me to try and explain.”

The queue was already huge and growing fast. It was only 8am and people had been waiting for at least 4 hours. The crowds cheered as John approached with the keys. “Not yet” he yelled over the noise, “another hour yet I’m afraid folks.” He closed the door behind him and locked it again, he looked down at the 500 copies they had of Chinese Democracy and looked out the window at the people. “Nowhere near enough for one CD each, some people are going home disappointed. He sighed to himself, John didn’t like disappointing people. Sprinkle Records was very small but very popular in Nottingham. When John started it 3 years earlier at the tender age of 20 he made 2 promises to himself, 1 - to always do this job solely for his love of music and 2 – to be as patient and helpful as he possibly could with each customer. People soon knew where to go for a friendly helpful service. To many of his customers John was a friend. He was good at his job and knew his stuff. Sprinkle Records had a reputation for stocking a wide variety of unusual and underground music also, just another reason he drew in more customers than the much bigger businesses around him. In fact he could never have dreamed just how good his business would be, but despite it all he continued to work as hard as ever. Today was always going to be a big day with the release of Guns n’ Roses new album, something people had been anticipating for many years. John was in early to set up. He started clearing shelves and dedicated a large section of the shop solely for stocking copies of the new album. John’s friend and employee Mark arrived a few minutes later. They were ready early and much to the delight of the impatient crowd outside they opened the doors. Then it was all rush as the crowd stormed in.

After the service people always milled around for a while, exchanging pointless gossip about their week and who’s done what. Aaron just sat there, feeling out of place and trying not to be noticed. He didn’t care for these people, they didn’t care for him and he wasn’t in the mood for pretending otherwise. He usually talked to Lucy till his mum had finished chin wagging and could take him home, but Lucy was still engrossed in whatever her and G-d were talking about. She hadn’t moved from her seat where her head was bowed. Aaron studied her gentle and beautiful face, she was pretty, that was for sure, but there was something more than that. There was a life in her eyes, a passion and a love, but Aaron knew that wasn’t for him and that made him jealous. Lucy’s love meant everything to him, he wanted her all to himself and felt like G-d came between them and took her away from him. Not that he could tell her. When he had tried to talk to her about it she seemed puzzled and a little worried, looking at Aaron as if he had just said something unthinkable. She simply remarked “G-d is first you know that, G-d is everything.” “Of course” Aaron submissively replied and decided never to share his fears with her again. As he looked upon her with a quiet longing and a solemn admiration, he noticed tears flowing down her face, flowing freely as she made no attempt to suppress them. Here she was, now kneeling, pouring out everything to G-d. This scared Aaron more than anything. He considered going and putting his arm around her, convincing himself that it would be a supportive and kind gesture, at least that’s how it would look to her, but truth is he wanted to impose, remind her he was here, remind her he still existed, because he needed her. “Good morning Aaron” came the warm frail voice. “Hello Doris” Aaron replied with a smile, and for the first time this morning it wasn’t a fake one. Aaron found Doris very likable. She was an unusual old woman. People found the things she said vey strange but they made Aaron laugh and she seemed to like that. Since Aaron could remember, Doris had been the most joyful member of the church. She was always the first to welcome newcomers and would always make an effort to talk to everyone without judgement or prejudice. Aaron didn’t belong there: he knew it and everyone else knew it. Doris probably knew it, but that didn’t make a difference to her. She would make him feel welcome all the same and Aaron came to love their amusing exchanges. “Still alive Doris?” Aaron joked with a rye smile “Oh just about Dear” Doris frowned back at him, “looking at you in this mornings service I’m not the one struggling to stay alive, I’ve never seen someone look so lifeless.” Aaron laughed nervously and looked down at the floor. Doris had no fear of the truth, that’s one reason Aaron was so fond of her, but there was some thoughts in Aarons mind that he intended to keep there.

“There’s a rope around my neck, tied to my home, it gets tighter the further I move away, my throat is tightening but there’s nothing I can do.” As Emily stared at the window she noticed every detail, taking it in, imprinting it in her mind, these familiar streets were now reminders of what she would miss, they drove past her old school and Emily’s mind filled with nostalgic memories, the laughs, the regrets, the bullies, the friends, those friends she would not be seeing much of anymore. “It was all gonna be so perfect” she thought regretfully to herself, “ I could leave home, become more independent and then come home at holidays, see my friends, see my parents and maybe I’d find myself liking my dad more a little more. Now I won’t be able to come to my home, my real home where I grew up, where the memories are. Now I have to leave all that behind and the one element I was hoping to leave is coming with me. Will I ever escape?” She hoped for an accident or a flat tyre or… or anything to stop the car and stop this insanity, or at least delay it. She bent her head round and peered up out the window, it was a clear night, plenty of stars out, stars always comforted her. “Thank You Lord” she needed comforting tonight, a glimmer of Hope. The darkness would engulf her but for the shining light. “Nevertheless I am continually with you; you hold me by my right hand. Psalm -73:23.”

Aaron awoke to the sound of music, familiar music, comforting music. He lay there enjoying these first few seconds of the day, the blissful sound of “Teardrop” by “Massive Attack”, he could recognise this music in his sleep but in a dazed state of not being fully awake it took him a few seconds to realise that it was also his ringtone, he tried to open his eyes but the light coming through the windows hurt his eyes. “Why didn’t I close my curtains last night? What did I do last night…. Oh no….” Little fragments of the events the night before came back to him slowly. He hadn’t even realised how much his head had hurt till now. Leaning over with his eyes still closed he tried to grab his phone but just knocked it off his bedside table on to the floor, it stopped ringing and he cursed. “My first word of the day, good start. Who’s calling me early in the morning anyway, what time is it? What day is it?” He managed to prize open his eyes, 14:59 the clock read “and it’s um satu…….Oh no!” He was supposed to be at work at 9am that morning, “My dad is gonna flip.” “I need water!” He crawled out of bed and downstairs, he snuck past the living room where his mum was watching television, grabbed some water from the kitchen and headed back to bed. As he opened his door he noticed the phone ringing again, the sound that had seemed so beautiful before now ripped through his head, every beat thumping, every sound piercing. It was his dad, he wasn’t happy. “He’ll get over it” he tried to convince himself afterward He’d said not to bother coming in, which he was relieved about, his head really hurt, “Why did I drink so much last night? I never drink.” “No point lying around here all day. Mum will found me eventually and she’ll go ballistic if she finds out I’ve slept in and missed work”, “You have to be more responsible Aaron.” He could hear the words in his head already. Dad wouldn’t tell her, he has his own way of dealing with things. He’ll have a quiet word avoiding mums over reaction. “I’ll give Lucy a call she might not ask as many questions.”
“Why aren’t you at work Aaron?” “I just um slept in” You slept in? You never miss work.” I know listen, I’ll explain when I’m over there, cya in five.”
He left the house without being noticed but as he made the short walk to Lucy’s he felt guilty. He’d deceived his parents, he had never done that. He’d missed work, despite what his mother thought. He was more responsible than that and he’d got extremely drunk last night. What would he tell Lucy? She would notice his hung over state, he could say he’s just ill, but he couldn’t lie to Lucy, “I’ll explain, it’s a one off - she’ll understand.”
“Hey how are you Aaron?”
“I’m all good thanks Luce.”
“You sure? You look like death!”
“Um yeah I kinda… um, can we talk?”
“Sure, my parents are out let’s go through to the living room, everything ok?”
“Just come right out with it”
“I kinda got really drunk last night Luce and I feel guilty, like I’ve let G-d down you know, I keep like um just messing up, I think I’m changing.”
Lucy paused, leaving a momentary silence and then spoke confidently. “I’ve noticed that too Aaron, I was gonna say something, you should pray about it, I could pray with you if you like” The words made him angry, “Why should I pray - it had never helped before, why did G-d always have to be the answer” He didn’t know where that thought came from but there were more coming on strong and he feared that pretty soon they’d slip out his mouth. “I’m tired of trying so hard to be a good Christian, pray read my bible, what’s G-d done for me? He knew the answer to that, but this was coming from another place.” I pretend to be a joyful believer, but I’m unhappy. I want to live like everyone else. They seem to be having fun yet I’m miserable. I can pretend well not to be, but I am” What scared him most about the last thought was that it was true, he couldn’t hold it back any longer, he couldn’t pretend any more.
“Sure just pray, that will make it all better” he said sarcastically. Lucy looked shocked, but he carried on. “I’m sick of G-d, you going on about how much you love him. Your heart is so full of G-d, there’s no room left for me, no wonder I’m changing, so I had a few too many drinks, it was bound to bring me more joy than you or G-d ever could.” Lucy looked distressed, “and the sickest part is” Aaron thought “I’m glad, it’s the first time she’s showed she actually cares” She was struggling to find the right response whilst holding back tears, the silence seemed to last an age, giving Aaron a chance to face the regret of what he’d just said, he feared Lucy’s next words more than he’d feared anything yet in his life. “If that’s how you feel Aaron” she said with an unexplainable calmness. “I think….look, whatever you want from me I can’t give, the scriptures say, if your right hand causes you to sin cast it off and throw it in to the fire, I think I’m your right hand, if I’m coming between you and G-d I need to get out of the way” “You mean…” Aaron couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. “Yes, I’m sorry Aaron” “No Luce, I’m sorry, sorry I ever met you” “He didn’t know why he said that, why such anger, she did what she felt was best for him” With that he just turned and walked out the door.

Afterthought

Oh I would appreciate peoples opinions on my previous blog. Where do you think art comes from? What inspires it? And why do those who are saddest seem to be the most creative?

Also just a sort of afterthought that I forgot to mention.

I saw on a friends facebook status that a moment ago that they were in awe. I guessed rather presumptiously that maybe they'd been listening to some amazing music and this was why. I then started to think how I could never make music that would have people in awe, I started to do my boring guitar practice and just thought I could never create anything truly awesome, the step was so far. Then I remembered something Aaron said to me in an e-mail once. It was that all things good from G-d, so if we something good in a person that's G-d working through that person. The same awesome G-d that inspires mewithoutYou and As Cities Burn to do what they do can also work through me. Isn't that the answer? G-d inspires it, that's where true beautiful art comes from. And as I'm typing I'm realising all I said before was wrong and void. These people created something from their loss or sadness, not Aaron cause he shouldn't of been in that group, but the rest. It was a search. But G-d didn't call me to suffer, he called me to show others a better way, not an easy way but a way free of the ties of such things as depression. I have to walk in this way walk close to G-d and music that comes from that, that Love for G-d, the realisation of His love for me, that will be true art.

The price of art

I saw my dad this evening and as he drove me back home we were speaking about music as we usually do and we start to talk about, as this blog is titled, the price of art. Allow me to explain. Something my dad mentioned as we spoke and I think this will help with understanding was about Bob Dylan. Apparently, and I take this in good faith from what my dad said as I haven't listened myself, but Bob Dylans rather brilliant music took a serious nose dive in quality once he got married, settled down and had a family. Then when he went through a bitter divorce and ended up alone again he started to write great music again. This is one man and one example but I see it over and over again. Great art, be it music, painting or writing, comes from a place of pain, loneliness or isolation. Is it this pain or feeling that inspires people to go on to create much of what they do. Elliotte Smith, Conor Oberste, Jeff Buckley and in a way Aaron Weiss, the evidence is there again and again.
I think for me the most real experience of this is personal, I wrote a song, which I believe is posted in an earlier blog, titled "An artists Pain". These lyrics talk about this very subject and what inspires me to write, sing or play. Though what I do is deffinitely not up there with these greats I've mentioned I think one of the reasons I appreciate their music so much is because I empaphise with them in regards to where it came from. It's very often when I'm alone, when I feel isolated, rejected or sad that I feel the need to produce something from whatever poetry I can find inside me.
From the people reading this there may be differing opinions on prophesy but I believe it has its place as long as it's not misused. There are a few prophesies that I am reminded of that were spoken over me and I just wander though I took them with a pinch of salt at the time if maybe G-d was speaking after all. The first one I was strongly convinced was relevant at the time. I was probably around 12 at the time and was attending some sort of Christian event. There was a boxing ring in the middle where people could go to speak or pray through a microphone if they felt G-d was leading them to do so. It was prophesied over me by some random bold guy that by the end of the day I would feel the pain for my unbelieving friends. I later went up to the boxing ring and as I started to pray for my friends I started to cry. I think it was my first experience of truly being moved by G-d and the start of a passion for evangelism.
Some people some years later, maybe I was 18 at the time were visiting Living Waters and one of them prophesied over me while praying for me that I was called to suffer for G-d. I rejected this at the time as stupid but maybe it was fear more than anything that made me do this. I believe strongly that G-d called me to music, I believe he gave me a heart for evangelism and to use music in this. Could it be that these "prophesies" apply to these "callings". That G-d called me to music but the passion for music will come from a place of pain, from a realisation of my need for G-d. I think most of all it has to come from a passion for G-d but Aaron manages to mix these 2 beautifully and I know Rumi speaks in one of his poems about how pain is like our realisation of need for G-d and forces us to seek him and how in this sense it is a good thing, so I guess the 2 can come together. But could it also be that G-d has given me a heart for the lost, those who haven't yet found hope and part of that is empaphising with them and their pain.
Does beauty come from a dark place first of all. Christ accomplished our freedom through the darkness of the cross, he calls us to take up our cross and follow Him, maybe this is my cross.
G-d's will be done.

A more positive approach

I've been thinking a lot since last nights entry and I wanted to try a more positive approach.
I think when there's something you want to accomplish and you see others doing it while you're left behind it seems there's only 2 reactions to this. Either give up or catch up, but in truth there's a 3rd. I think this one makes more sense and that's to just keep going, at your own pace. I want to write beautiful music but those who make it once also spent ages playing boring exercises and fiddling around with 3 chord songs and they couldn't get to where they did if they got impatient and skipped that part.
I wish I could finish my book but I just read that Stephen Christians took him 3 years to do. Mine will never be as good as his but I will take as long as possible to make sure it's the best I can do.
And as for the band, well that one's out of my control but it's in G-ds hands and I trust Him.
I can't force myself to feel patient but I can try and think patiently.
Peace

Future and Music

Something dangerous and easy to do when you believe there's a G-d is load off all your responsiblility for decisions on Him. I often find myself waiting and hoping for a sign to tell me where to go next or what to do next when infact you just need to take a chance and see what happens otherwise you could be endlessly waiting.
I've had this feeling with me over the last few years like I need to step out, leave, make a change, jump or something but I never know how to act on it. Like I'm waiting for something to happen but when it comes down to me making it happen I don't know what it is so I'm stuck, feeling almost trapped.

I especially feel this with music, It's like I'm waiting for the right band members to come along but there's no one, how can you start a band when there's no one round to start it with, there's nothing I can do to make it happen because I can't find people who don't exist but I have this constant feeling like I need too.

I'm tired of this feeling, I'm tired of this place and I'm tired of waiting.