TRANSCRIPT - Episode 215: That Song
November 21st, 2022
Kristen Zaza
[Eerie theme music plays]
[Your Narrator:]
I had a story that was going like this:
Here, unabashed and unedited, are my bullet-points for this story.
[Music; a little pizzicato, somewhat dissonant and very chromatic, a waltz]
Once upon a time, there was a person.
-a man slips into a portal to hell and catches a glimpse of something he thinks he's not meant to see
-an "infernal" concert in a beautiful concert hall. Noise and mockery and horror
-until rising away from it, a voice
-and all the other demons listen sweetly; they weep, and they soon sing along as if one voice
[A lone voice singing a plaintive melody; soon joined by more]
-the soloist laughs and laughs, then they all turn to the person watching, who runs runs runs away.
-the person lives their life for a while and forgets the song. Eventually, has a big business meeting. A big speech about how they're absorbing another company or destroying a rainforest for some reason or other, some enterprising thing, some ghastly greed. but then suddenly hears the song while giving the important speech in front of a bunch of other important people. Tears come to his eyes. He laughs and laughs and laughs. I'm sure the demons come back, their chaos serving a larger kind of good, maybe he sees them, his very emotional friends...
...I don't know.
it was all right.
It wasn't grabbing me.
And a story for the sake of a story is no story at all. A story has to come from a longing. A wanting. An aching, an itching, a pain.
And I wanted the story to be about the kind of person who prizes profit over people but learns what to truly value, which is life, human experience, the thing we're here to truly feel in this very short time on earth this time around anyway...
Blah blah blah
Told it, told it already, told it over and over and over and even vowed to never tell the tale of a tyrant-king again but they continue to demand attention
Told it before.
Punished them before in my stories.
Nothing but indulgence, on my part.
Anything that judges another instead of seeking out what appalled you in them in yourself instead is futile anyway. I think.
Or maybe I'm judging myself too harshly, too.
Hmm.
Sitting at the computer, thinking about this story and becoming infatuated with images of beautiful hellish things in my mind
Things with black tears streaming down their faces and into their mischievous smiles painted in black tears, too
faces marble white or slate grey or shining obsidian, almost made of stone, if it weren't for how angular they were in their movement as they sawed bows across violin, cello, and viola, or as fingers punched roughly at oboes, clarinets, and flutes
Even in their mocking, even as the music I could already imagine was so rude and cruel, they seemed beautiful in my mind because...well, I think the cruelest things are beautiful, aren't they? If they were hideous we would just be afraid...and that's no fun. But things that want to hurt us, being beautiful? Looking like fairies from a story, looking like nymphs and satyrs from a long-gone myth...oh, how we would love them to love us, no?
Sitting at the computer, wondering if that's enough, wondering if the music can be done well-enough in time to make the rather flimsy tyrant story make sense
I realize
My friend who is a cat is sitting on the table facing me
He has been there for awhile
But he has been looking at me for some time now.
I didn't realize, I was so absorbed in this non-story and whether it would work, could work, is working
His eyes are wide and he has a focus he usually doesn't.
"Hi," I say, and he does not react to my voice.
Then I realize he's not staring at me.
[Mocking, frightening, horrific music begins to creep in]
He's looking just above me
Over my head
Behind me.
"What's up?" I ask.
He doesn't answer, naturally.
Then I catch something behind Him.
[The music again - but much lower and much slower]
Behind them is the door to the balcony, and it's mostly made of windows.
That's why I can see when my phantom stranger stands on my balcony. It's all window, thank goodness, so I feel like I can see the sky when I am home, and I am home when I can see the sky.
And behind my cat who is staring just behind me, in the window. I can see something in the reflection.
Behind me there is a doorframe leading to the kitchen
From either side of it, dangling from the ceiling, peeking around corners, reaching up from the floor towards me, there are dozens of hands - long fingers, pale white or dull grey or shining black - with dirty hungry claws curving up and out at me
They seem to come out of the material, out of the walls, the ceiling, the floor, as though through portals but there is nothing there I can see, they just pass through matter like nothing
They twist themselves up in each other like a horrific insect, a chimera made of many of them, hanging off each other, clinging so that they can reach closer and closer to me, their beautiful faces laughing and snarling and their jaws dripping and drooling and their fingers reaching, reaching, almost touching...
I turn around to see them with my own eyes but there is only the kitchen.
I turn back to the reflection and they are gone.
And the cat jumps off the table and goes to eat some food.
I come back to the computer.
Once upon a time, there was a person.
[The full orchestra this time; awful, dissonant, chaotic]
Another person.
Another person who fell down a tunnel, a portal to hell, which really was only a place, not much more to it
And he, unlike the first person, he was not particularly greedy or selfish or tyrannical
he did not place himself above anyone else, but maybe it was just because he had never had the opportunity to, who knows.
He found the same orchestra; the same demonic set of musicians.
Maybe.
And he shuddered at the way they played. He trembled at the chaotic lack of order, of melody. The utter nonsense of it all.
He wanted to believe there was a kind of order to the world, a kind of prevailing justice. This music made him lose hope completely in that.
[A lone voice, singing a plaintive melody; soon joined by an eerie harmony]
Until one of the demons stood and began to sing once more.
Our visitor didn't know it, but it was a different one than the one who sang for the tyrant-king in my first chapter of this story that I've abandoned, I promise I've abandoned it, it's just not good enough to release.
But in this next chapter, a different demon sang, so you see, you'd realize that they are all in league with one another.
And they each get to take turns being the voice of...I don't know. Purity. Feeling. Kindness. Longing. Whatever it is meant to represent. Certainly, it is a song for a kind of spiritual heart. I think.
And the other demons once again ceased their noise-making and listened sweetly and wept and smiled
And they turned to the newcomer, the new listener, and watched him intently
And he, terrified, ran, ran, ran away, back to the real world.
Where he would try to continue his life
Where he worked hard and tried hard and cared for others and was by all standards very good and kind and he forgot about the song and he forgot about the demons. Until...
It's just not working.
He's so good, so obviously good, so he deserves to be a hero, perhaps more than our first friend, pardon me, our first enemy, the greedy one. In his story, he should be rewarded, shouldn't he?
Punishment, reward, badness, goodness
Tedious
Subjective
And
Wishful
Thinking
And Done
Done to Death
By Me
And Others
How many Christmas Carols can we write, how many Scrooges and Marleys vs. Bob Cratchits and Tiny Tims, what is the point, what is the point?
Even Scrooge had to be taken down a portal to hell before deciding to change
And even then
It's fiction
And even then
There were other Scrooges who weren't given the gift of sight
And even then
There were still so many other Tiny Tims who needed help
Lost in Solving
Lost in Metaphor
Lost in
[Singing; voices in harmony, and a very melodic piano this time.]
What is that music?
That's my voice, isn't it?
But I haven't written the music yet
What's up?
[Laughter]
Oh no.
How did I get to the keyboard?
How did the microphone get set up?
I didn't think I was at this stage of the process yet
I was late with the episode by a night, I woke up early to keep writing but the words still weren't coming and the story still seemed so useless
I thought I dreamed of demons in the reflection of my windows, behind me
But maybe it wasn’t a dream
Was that last night?
How did I get to the keyboard?
I didn't decide what the song sounded like yet
I kept thinking, "This will be a challenge to write and produce", yet here it is
Just there
I'd know that song anywhere
I can swear I've heard it before
I didn't want to write this story
It's not good enough and I am only partly sure what it means
It's not even finished
I turn to my laptop which my cat is rubbing his cheek against
My editing program is open and the completed episode is being exported to MP3
I didn't finish it
How is it getting finished?
I give up
[Starts singing the song]
All right. Fine.
Take Me.
[Music quickly fades]
I slip down a tunnel, or is it a portal, it felt like a tunnel, like the kind a superhero or a secret agent in a movie slides down to enter a secret underground lair
Only that's not where I am
In fact, I'm gone
Can't see myself anymore
I'm in a castle
A dark place
But luckily I feel a hand take my invisible hand and slip a lit candle within it
I whirl around to see who gave it to me but the light reveals no one
I walk down a hall, following a red carpet, in front of me just a candle stick wobbling as though a ghost were carrying it for I cannot see my hands
Is that what I am, here?
A ghost?
Is that what you are here, too?
I've forgotten, I'm not alone, am I?
You're here too?
Thank goodness and thank you
I follow the red carpet
to a room
As the candle enters I can tell, even in the darkness, that it's a gilded salon
The kind a king, a tyrant, an emperor, might have in his castle,
full of pink roses and baby's breath
Overly sweet and too rich
And those creatures from the reflection in my apartment crawl down the walls from the ceiling, as they did in my kitchen, hanging off each other's limbs, helping each other to their seats in the room, walking like spiders, crabs, insects, withdrawing musical instruments from within the rat king shape they formed together
They dissect themselves from the mass of bodies they made just a moment ago
They sit down and tune their instruments
I am standing in front of them
Their jet black, stone grey, milk white hands poised, ready to play
Their eyes leaking black tears constantly and their smiles wide and gentle and cunning all at once
They are so beautiful that I am afraid they will laugh at me
But they don't
They look up, expectantly
I let go of my candle and you, my invisible friend, take it and light a hundred other candles with it in this room
When you are finished, you may take a seat
And I shall pick up a baton
Tap it thrice on this podium here
And raise both of my hands suddenly
And every demon in the orchestra lifts their instruments just as fast
They all take a deep breath
And we play.
[Eerie theme music]
(Host speaks as Kristen:)
Hello everyone, thanks so much for listening to Episode 215 of On a Dark, Cold Night. This is Kristen Zaza, your host, writer, narrator, podcaster, composer, conductor, etc, behind the show. I hope you're doing well and taking care of yourselves as the weather grows colder, if it does that where you are as you listen to this. Still soaking up some self care and rest before the moon is new this week. This was a tough one to do, or at least as I write these notes I expect it will continue to be a tough one to complete, but I'm sure as I record and edit myself saying that, it'll feel differently, so who knows what I'll be at that point of the story-making.
Support for On a Dark, Cold Night is brought to you this month by Magic Mind.
If you're anything like me, I'm sure you struggle at times to keep focused and alert throughout your day as you navigate juggling responsibilities, tasks, relationships, life, rest and relaxation and fun, too. There's a lot going on in the world, and a lot going on within our lives, and having the energy and focus to do everything we want to do is easier said than done. And for me, I tend to lean a little too heavily on caffeine in times of stress, which can often make things worse by adding anxiety and jitters to the mix. So that's something really cool and different about Magic Mind. After replacing one cup of coffee a day with this little green bottle of juice, I noticed a difference in how alert, focused, energized, but also how calm I felt. Magic Mind contains a compound called L-Theanine, which is known for naturally reducing your body's stress levels, and it also contains adaptogens like ashwagandha, lion's mane mushrooms, cordyceps mushrooms, which aid in relaxation and boosting your mood. Changing up my morning routine by adding Magic Mind to it resulted in a noticeable difference in how I went about my day with more calmness and concentration, which was a really cool thing.
I've got a 20% off discount code for listeners of On a Dark, Cold Night - so to learn more and try out Magic Mind for yourself, go to magicmind.co/COLD20, and enter the code COLD20 at checkout. They have a money back guarantee, and if you purchase the subscription, you can get 40% off. the 40% code only lasts 10 days, while the 20% off discount will be valid beyond that, so if you think you're interested in 40% off the subscription definitely be sure to check that out sooner rather than later. For either discound and to learn more, visit magicmind.co/COLD20 and use offer code COLD20 at checkout.
Thanks, friends.
I'd like to send a thank you this month to long-time supporter and listener, Kyle, who contributed to the show this week via Ko-fi.com. Thank you so much for your continued support of what I do, Kyle, it means the world to me. Ko-fi is a great way to donate to the show on a one-time basis - if you'd like to do the same, head on over to ko-fi.com/darkcoldnight where you can purchase one or more metaphorical coffees to donate. I also want to thank listener Dustin, who not only bought a hoodie from the show but left a lovely donation through Bonfire in support of On a Dark, Cold Night - thank you so very much, Dustin, I appreciate it. I don't talk about this often but if you buy a t-shirt or hoodie through bonfire you can also choose to donate to the show in that way - learn more at bonfire.com/on-a-dark-cold-night. And of course I'd like to thank everyone who supports the show on a monthly basis via Patreon! Through patreon, donors of $1 or more US a month receive access to my complete and ever-growing soundtrack, while donors of $5 or more US a month get that and a monthly tarot reading video I upload on the full moon. To learn more, visit patreon.com/darkcoldnight.
Another great way to support the show is to leave a rating and review on iTunes, Spotify, or wherever else you would like to do so. You can follow me on social media; I'm on Twitter @ADarkColdNight, instagram at darkcoldnightpodcast, Facebook and YouTube under On a Dark, Cold Night, and on TikTok at kristenzaza. These are allgreat ways to submit questions as well, if you have any you'd like to hear me answer in an upcoming story. Or episode. Or meditation. Or whatever I'm calling these now.
Thank you again for listening tonight, friends.
Thanks for your patience as I was a little late with this one.
Thank you for everything, and be gentle with yourselves this week and onward as we head into the holiday season.
Goodnight, my friends.
[Eerie theme music]
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