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Veelarage07 |
Your Song Is Just Passing for Love [ISO Julia] |
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Posts: 107 Member Since:04/14/12 Nov 13 12 12:44 PM Jamie Poole
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It would seem that, if he did not do well on his exams, he would die, instantly but agonizingly. If he did not do well on his exams then someone with a titanium mallet would come and smash all of his prized possessions (while laughing maniacally). When he failed his OWLs, the world would be plunged into darkness and creatures intent on eating flesh would rise up from the center of the earth, and it would be all his fault. That's what Jamie's professors were leading him to believe, anyway. If he, Jamie Poole, failed his exams - any of his exams - then all happiness would flee from the world and that would be the end of all joy. In order to prevent this and other related catastrophes, they had assigned plenty of homework that he didn't want to do and spent most of class time squawking about the importance of success. He might have taken them at least a little bit seriously if he didn't have to hear about it day after day, but it was getting irritating and, at this point, he was content to disregard every word they said on principle. He couldn't bring himself to care. There could be no average scores without low achievers, and he felt content to provide that service for the rest of the student body. Thus, his homework was in his room and he was straddling a chair in the choir room, tuning his A string, which was sharp. He and Julia were creating their own small scale cacophony, because while he tightened his peg and hummed an open A, she was plunking away at the piano. Satisfied, he played a bar chord, featuring his newly tuned A string, which appeased him, inspiring him to play through a short progression of easy chords without thinking much, his hands working without him as he gazed blindly at the corner of the piano and listened, tuning out Julia's mess. He didn't want to play over her (though it didn't sound like she was playing much worth writing home about just yet), and he was out of strings to tune. He set the guitar on the chair beside him and leaned forward on his own chair so his chest was against the back, resting his chin on top, watching her. He didn't have anything to work on besides not-homework, so bowing out of the 'who can play nothing louder' competition didn't bother him. “Play something beautiful,” he urged her, rolling his ankle around and around beneath him. He slid his arms beneath his chin and tipped his head to the side. “I need to be inspired. All out homework's taking a toll on me words. I'm not playing nothing worth listening to lately.” One could argue that Jamie didn't play anything worth listening to ever, but he tended to be kinder to himself. “This year's a bust.”
![]() a simple rule that every good man knows by heart: its smarter to be lucky than its lucky to be smart |
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