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Nimbus: Sin and Lavender

by Dane C Fogdall

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1.
101 - Autumn Sun 02:54
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Muted piano chimes against my thoughts. Sin’s down the hall, warming up for me. And here I am pretending to be asleep in my poorly lit room. Everything’s an indigo sort of color, a darker version of my name. Most days these sheets are like a straightjacket: if I don’t leave then nothing bad will happen. But rehearsal days are safe and free, so are performance days and composing days. And today’s one of those days, Sin will know which one. I roll out of bed and find a shirt and push my hair back. He’s not playing for me anymore. I can hear he’s started playing just to play or… no not quite. He’s playing to find something new. I wander across my own blue apartment, cast in this shade by drawn curtains. Lavender! Listen. He calls down at me. I leave the indigo and walk into the studio. Light, and uncluttered space makes me squint for a moment. I like what he plays for me, it sounds like him, he wants it to sound like me too. I warm my voice. Hey Sin Yeah? Do you believe? In what? Anything? God, people, love, whatever? Depends On? The day, and the subject or who I’m with He hasn’t stopped playing God? Not in years Love? Not this morning I glance at the clock, what about now that it’s afternoon? It’s growing on me Music? Most of the time Then maybe I should sing I always believe in that. We share a smile, this is an old routine to find a new song. I tie my hair back and kiss the mic. Clouds mixed with blue Like smoke from god’s cigarette Maybe soon ash will fall It is November after all The scorching summer Makes way for cold Rest and close your eyes In late autumn sun Autumn sun
2.
102 - Highways and Wires 02:44
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Telephone wires cross a pale gray sky. My breath appears before me in billows and I draw my jacket closer. You’re shivering, Here Sin moves closer, his arm around my shoulders. Thanks Sin The walk to the long stretch of sand is short. The slate colored coast clashes over and over again with the green pacific. Sin likes to go here, so do I really, but it’s so cold today. The fog starts ambling in and makes my hair stick to my face. How many days? Four, since my dad visited. Sin starts taking off his shoes, despite my past efforts I’ve since given up trying to convince him that the ocean isn’t a miracle that must be touched whenever visited. He steps to the surf after rolling up his jeans. I look up at gliding sea-birds and squint, even the overcast light hurts my eyes after all that time inside. Bad days, that’s all they were. Bad days. It’s okay to have bad days. Is it okay to have bad days? right? Okay that’s enough, I’m not sure I have toes anymore. Then let’s go home Yeah Just as I unlock my apartment rain starts to fall. I begin making tea, back in my indigo home. Curtains closed, piano starts chiming throughout the halls and light spills from the open studio door. Sin’s playing an old song of ours Your part’s coming up! Vamp for me, I have tea to finish! I walk into the studio lit in a mix of gold lamplight and silver window-light, a pair of cups in hand for a pair of players, and after a sip my voice rolls into the microphone. Distant highways and telephone wires a small price to pay or so they say I’d rather have a Low burning fire And you I collapse in a nearby chair between the window and the piano. Resting, for the first time in days, while raindrops tune with piano strings.
3.
103 - I Want You to Remember 03:08
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The orange of streetlamps fades into the pinks and blues of dawn. The hum of the road harmonizes with steering-wheel drumming. I look over at him, he’s tired, he let me sleep. Hey Sin? Yeah? Let’s get breakfast I can go a little longer You need a break He rubs his eyes, he heard me though Yeah… you’re right Let’s get breakfast Yeah The twenty-four-hour diner is clean-enough and the coffee is good-enough. Sin slumps against the counter, I rub his shoulder thankful that he took the night-drive for me. He wound my car through the black so I didn’t have to face the night. There’s a long way to go still. Forests and mountains to turn into green and purple blurs. Not ten minutes back into the drive and he’s gone. Scarf bundled into a makeshift pillow. I change the music to our demo tracks and try out my voice to a slumbering audience. I want you to remember Me Like all of these pine Trees Sleeping in these valleys Low Remember when I weathered Snow? Oh. I wish I did. The forests and the mountains recede and break for the gold and midnight blue of the cliffs overlooking the pacific. I can hear the constant thunder made by rocks and waves. The road follows the cliff-line all the way until city lights sprawl out before me. Sharp yellows and whites. Sin’s awake as we return to our home. Lavender? My knuckles loosen off the wheel at his voice. Sweat and cramps in my hand. When did I start clenching the wheel? Uh-huh? I don’t want to drive to my house tonight, can I--- Of course He smiles at that and so do I. I park under the elm tree. Indigo engulfs us. I can hear a piano across my apartment all night long.
4.
104 - Some Days 01:27
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The view of the water from the pier holds me for a moment. The green water reflecting the blues and whites of the sky remind me of some sailor-saying I can’t remember. The cool air breaks the heat around me. Hey Sin! His head pops out of the lake. Yeah? How’s the water? You should come find out He smiles at me Why do you like the water so much? Because it slows everything down, and some days I need that. I watch him laze about the water a bit. Slow is good Yeah I hum my voice against the ripples, and watch as Sin strikes out toward an island. Some days Feel like rain Out past the porch Some Days Feel like water Through my hand But today I’m with you I wish that these days were all days, that I didn’t sabotage my mornings out of fear of the evening, that I got out of bed everyday, that I could – Hey Lavender Yeah? Sin’s hand is in mine and then a tug and then the rest of my day is slower.
5.
105 - Hymns 03:28
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Lightning cracks outside my window, even through my curtains it lights the whole room a blueish-white color. The power is out and my only company here is the distant rumble of thunder. Nothing but me, my empty apartment and the storm throwing itself at the coast. I can’t sleep on nights like this, or most nights really. Orange-yellow fills the room further with each wick I light. But the lightning flashes still overwhelm everything. I wonder what other people do on nights like this. Probably hold someone they love, or stay up playing games with children or something. Something that I- A solid knock on the door. The nearest heavy object, an empty wine-bottle, in hand I open the door. Sin?! Can I come in please? He’s soaked to the bone and as lightning flashes above he flinches visibly. Yeah, of course, what happened? My car, You need a new one I know but it broke down a mile or so from here and the tow trucks aren’t running in all of this so… Twenty minutes later Sin’s dry, wearing an old band t-shirt that my dad gave me once, and ripped jeans Sin left here with my promises to patch them a few months ago. How are you Lavender? Better than you right now, thunder makes it hard to sleep but I would have been up anyways. Lucky me Yeah, lucky you. You look terrible, you should lie down. He doesn’t even argue, just leans back into the couch eyes gazing unfocused at the candles setting into the wax. I hate storms like this. I know, I’m right here. Another twenty minutes or so and Sin’s asleep. I open an old book and sit nearby. Every burst of thunder and invasion of lightning causes Sin’s face to contort into some kind of memorial pain. Hey Sin Mmmm Sleep, this will pass I slip my hand into his and he holds mine so tight that for a moment I worry he’ll break it. My voice enters the air, a quiet defense against the storm. We were promised a flood. You know, To make us clean again So grow your roots deep. You know, Hymns will be washed away And I’ll be left here singing.
6.
106 - Rain Instead 02:17
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Is the ocean blue or green? It’s always struck me as kinda gray He scratches something out. It’s hard to write about the ocean, without sounding… I dunno… Mushy? Yeah I’m sitting next to my mic, in the gold light and white walls of the studio in my apartment. The one place that isn’t an indigo shadow. I hum a little and occasionally drink tea and mostly watch Sin write a song. And then scratch it out. Then write some words. And then scratch them out. Then write some notes. And then scratch them out. I decide that my tea isn’t the only thing that needs to cool off. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and look over at the sea of graphite redactions. Hey Sin Yeah You’ll get it He’s tense at my touch still. Just show me the parts you like Alright The music starts simply What about the words, I don’t like any of those. I’ve got the words. Just sing with me. Tension leaves him at that. I don’t leave his shoulder, and let my voice fall next to his. Light through an open window Soon it will be rain instead That won’t matter There is no bad weather See, there’s something Shouldn’t there be more? Probably not, sometimes it just is what it is Not everything is perfect While we sing, it is. Maybe that’s enough Hey, it’s more than enough to get out of bed. He can’t help but smile and neither can I and I drink some tea, that warms and doesn’t burn.
7.
107 - They Weren't Heard Anyways 01:46
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I’ve got flowers in my back pocket and weeds in my hand. Late morning sun warms the back of my neck and reflects off the open window. Sin’s piano sits near the open window, so his voice and the harmonic chimes can accompany my work. His flowerbeds need repair. Hey Sin? Yeah? Do you want the dusty-pink or yellow ones this year? He looks at me through the open window. Dusty-pink, please I root out the remains of last-year’s purple to give the pink ones, the roses, room to grow. They’ll be forgotten soon by Sin and I’ll save them. His flower beds seem like one of the few things he neglects. I’m not paying attention when the notes that are leaving his window ask me to sing with them. Late spring mornings Just before noon Remind me of forgotten prayers, they weren’t heard anyways that won’t matter come summer I dig deeper into the earth, and watch the green overtake the black soil.
8.
108 - Thunderous Waves 03:32
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Sin and Lavender: 108, Narrator: Sin, Song: Thunderous Waves I stop for a moment, twist with the wind, and crack my back. Leaves rustle, whisper and grow. I lock my car door and step up to Lavender’s apartment building. Today is a composing day, and I’m dying to hear her sing. I knock, it’s no good, she’s probably asleep. With a clink of keys on keys and the creek of the door I’m inside. I close the coarse oak door and step into her cluttered and claustrophobic home and quickly cross the apartment and into the one clean and spacious room. The piano is familiar keys comfortably smooth and I start reviving this home. Warming up for her. Hey Sin there she is, Yeah? Good morning Good afternoon you mean Shit Hard night? Aren’t they all? Yeah I take her hand, it’s a more honest way of saying: I’m here. She squeezes my hand before letting go as if to say: yeah, I’m here too. It’s all you need. What’re we doing today? Composing Got something? I start playing for her. Hey Sin Yeah? What fixes a bad day? Depends on what kind Our old trick, to find the right idea, so I don’t stop playing. The kind that just seems bad from the start That’s tough, usually I try to do something I love And if that doesn’t work Going outside, or something to change the pace. And if that fails? Well there’s only one thing then. And that is? I look at her, in her clear eyes You have to go find someone you love. It was the right phrase, the answer she wanted to hear or the words that got her headspace right, because she sways by the mic and her voice fills up everything. The wind on crested waves Gray light, and rain later We can hide in the caves From the tide and storm We can’t help the days Do anything but pass Well that’s what my father says But I learned that he’s a liar You tell me you’ve seen god He lives in these seaside caves They won’t be able to hear us kiss Over these thunderous waves It’s maybe midnight by the time I leave, plane ticket on the dash, departure time is only three hours from now. You’d better head straight for the airport. Yeah Travel safe. Of course Come back soon. I promise, I’ll see you as soon as I’m back. First stop after my house. Bye Sin Bye Lavender I pull away. Long miles ahead of me.
9.
109 - Morning Mourning 03:06
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The phone rings in my ear like an out of tune bell. Tonight’s dose of black and indigo thoughts has swallowed me whole. Please, Sin. I know it’s late – Lavender? Even through the phone his voice feels clear. Lavender? Are you alright? He’s worried, I should say something but my voice has been stolen from me. What can I do? …. Are you there? Should I just talk? I steal it back long enough to utter: hmm okay, just a sec It sounds like he’s sitting up in bed and waking-up-enough to help me. The dark is so heavy, but turning on a light might be worse. You know that color that streetlamps and snow and the nighttime make? Hmm It’s like that here in Toronto right now I struggle then: When do you get back? Another week You’ve been working on something, right? Yeah Show me Now? Over the phone? I might wake – Please I hear him brave the stairs, then sit and touch the unfamiliar keys. His favorite are mine, or so he says. He plays for a bit You said you had words for the song I do Can I hear them… please? A long pause then the music starts again, and his voice warms me. It’s a blur of night and morning And I’ve stopped caring about which it is So, will you remind me? To hate that mourning bell? Once I’m down there, Won’t you dance with me in hell? It’ll be better in your voice I liked it It’s like I can hear him smile. His words start to blur like watercolors. But the dark begins to seem friendly again and I swear I hear a Goodnight Lavender just before I wake up.
10.
110 - Losing Light 05:06
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It’s a blur of night and morning And I’ve stopped caring about which it is So, will you remind me? To hate that mourning bell? Once I’m down there, Won’t you dance with me in hell? I knew it’d be better in your voice. Shut up I smile anyways His hands back on my piano keys outlining harmony. He looks tired from the trip but he’s here anyway. He wants to write a new song, I know it because I can hear him searching for it. Searching for the combination of notes that will start me singing. I’d better start searching for the song. Hey Sin Yeah? What’s peace like For me? I mean in general I think it’s subjective Okay, just for you then Most days it’s this Playing music? Sort of… that’s not it at all actually Sin pauses thinking and playing It’s not writing music either… it’s got something to do with the moment of making the song with you, while we’re in the middle of it… that’s just, that’s what peace is for me. What about for you? For me? Yeah I can’t answer at first because it’s the grace of piano keys and rain, mixed with the feedback of electric amplification giving way to my voice. But it’s also an open window that’s letting light stream into my indigo apartment and the fact that my not-so-put-together-self can reach out to something, no, someone during the dark-not-so-restful-nights. But I can’t manage to say any of that out loud. So I let myself sing instead. The afternoon is for losing light And deep blue skies And days that last forever Burn that daylight, forget the nightlife I want that purple thunderstorm Threatening the last few hours With rolling rumbles and dark flashes and golden grasses all the way to the foothills the afternoon is for losing light Sin puts his hand in mine as the music stops. The open studio door causes a blend of golden-light and indigo-dark Hey Sin? Yeah?

credits

released May 1, 2018

Sin - Dane Fogdall
Lavender - Hallie Denman

Piano, Lyrics, and Words - Dane Fogdall

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Dane C Fogdall Durango, Colorado

An independent composer, that focuses on recorded releases and collaborations with other creative groups, usually in the form of soundtracks.

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