ONE NOTE OF LOVE is a simple hymn to one love story among all the thousands that ought to have a Song and do not....it is of two people who love in Music..since Music is their first language....

ONE NOTE OF LOVE


there are times when movement is everything. when you've got to be riding the waves like wildfire. not trying to conserve anything at all. that's where he was in life. all at sea... everything changing too fast. he was drinking more heavily too - which he hardly ever did: on account of the anxiety. which was enormous. he was giving up everything he ever knew. all the places he knew like he knew his own body: the rivers. where the fishing was good. the valleys. the very stones. the fields. all the little towns. all connected like necklaces of karma and fate and destiny. all shattering around him just the way glass shatters... it was pretty crazy-making. and very new. he had never pushed his dreams this far. never given up so much for one dream. he was numb from the movement. it was a battering ram. a gauntlet he had to run. on the other side was the truth. and hope. and that dream. which was connected to another human. flesh and bone - not a goddess at all. a woman... crazy stuff. it all had a wild and magnificent music to it somehow. music was flooding his soul fully...

He sat at the edge of his bed and drank down a vodka and tonic way too fast. then he played a few bars on his old maple bass bassoon, that reminded him of the baritone he would have loved to have become... same earthy warm meady tones. he had won prizes for his bassoon music when he was a teen aged kid. the great old days: when he won all the prizes. because he was the Music Man. now he hadn't any prizes at all. except for a few women who had loved him. and The Woman. the one he was giving-away-the-store for. she was worth it all. he had hope all the way to China. and only had to travel just about half that far. to the edge of the earth: California...he played the music for her. in honor. in desire...

for her tho, it was a different music: the bass bassoon had always meant sex. first sex. that should have been with her First Love. him. but had been with a pure sex force. a man with a strange soul. who thought to take her. but had been taken by her. against his will. by her open blood and huge heart of sex... it had not been that way for him. he had taken a woman he married. she had genly betrayed him after the girls were born. left him without her sex. many women do that... he didn't know that his First Love never did that. he kept trying to find her. if he had only known that she was all sex. that she understood the energy of men. he would have moved heaven and hell to find her. but he didn't know. how could he? besides...there were fine children to raise...that comes first, of course, for everyone....

her first full sex had been with this devil of a man. who played the trumpet. and the sax. and the bass bassoon... amazing- the sounds of the explosions inside of her. all full. rich. tones of filled places. of desire satiated. to be satiated again. for her the woodwinds and the horns were every thing. the strings were in contrast. always. were all about thought and mindfulness. rightness. every tone exactly heard. perfect. the everlasting urges to be perfect. never met... the woodwinds. the brass. there was raw life. but of all: the bassoon. the depth of the deepest places inside of her body. they all held the same low 'B's of the euphonium.. from him: it all came along with the music. deep and silky and good. of the bass bassoon - it was all very sexual for her. because of making love so intensely with the strange and complicated man. and having him play it for her. right after sex. so much sex. such complete sex. without love at first. then with love. from him. but not from her. she still was thinking about her First Love. all of the time. even the first time... how could he not feel her so near? how could he not hear the music?

now it was years later: he was finally coming back to her. he was being with her. when he as with her: it was one person. a strange miracle. and it had its own sound. it had the sounds of woodwinds. and brass. bass. tenor too. song. guitar. banjo. voices whispering. voices crying. winds howling. it was Music. they were Music. together they were Music. it came as no surprise that the bass bassoon was there... no surprise at all. they could not stop such Music. it was their way. no. it is their way. it would always be their way. this is what they did. what they do. what they would do... it was not that anyone could chose such a way to be. it simply always is. never ends. the beginning is not to be known. it is beyond ordinary. that is the way it is. now the Mmatched the sex. the closeness was complete. every time. simply the way they were born to be: together....

all the reality of their lives turned and danced and breathed to this Music. sometimes the tones were drunken with sorrow and confusion. with pain. and anger too. with loss. dark loss. other times the music was beautiful. so beautiful it make them cry. they would cry with happiness too. joy so full it hurt as hard as pain. only, good pain: like giving birth. a good and natural birth... all these sounds were in the throat of the bassoon. only deep in its maple. in the living wood. there was life: how the roots and trunk and branches all twine. all full of life. the way sex can be. the way sex in them entoned. and twined its Music.

he had been a band leader. The Band Leader. the Music was so inside of him. he could play so many of the instruments. he was the Music. it played through him. he was the instrument. he could be every instrument. she had tried many instruments thoughout her life. she was equally horrible at every one of them. she could only play her own body. her voice box. her heart. her mouth. her sexual self. so, she became the instrument. stood alone and played her own self. all the Music came through her and became her. she became every song. she never had fear in song. she was the song. best she could be. so there was nothing to fear. she did not fear. there was no 'her' without Music. and the bass bassoon sang through her very electricity.
she was the best Music she could be...he was the best Music he could be...

they made the best of all possible Music...the best they could in this lifetime:
together....

There it is: in every note there is love. each one. each one note of love. they are each one tone of Love.
the same Tone.

the same Love...

when they play the Music together. there is beauty.
brilliant and deep
beauty.

it is a human thing:

this One Note.
this One Love.

and it sounds

much like

this....