Signal to Noise(6)

“You know, I really do want to have meatballs. Why don’t you come over to my place?”

“My mom doesn’t like me going over to your place.”

Meche’s mom had this over-developed fear of teenage pregnancies, courtesy of too many articles in too many ladies’ magazines. It was a bit hard to get pregnant when Meche had never even been kissed, let alone had a boyfriend, but Meche’s mother considered every boy in a twenty-block radius to be a danger to her daughter. As if anyone would try and date her.

“Fine,” Sebastian said. “I’ll come.”

Meche tried to grab the marker Sebastian was using, but he slapped her hand away and hunched over, busy with his drawing. She sighed, unrolled the headphones and pressed play on the Walkman.

The tape rolled and Black Sabbath sang about children of tomorrow and revolution while she tapped her fingers against the desk, waiting for the bell to ring.





“SO WHAT YOU’RE saying essentially is that you’ve gone nuts.”

Sebastian lay on the floor of Meche’s room, drawing in his notebook. He had traded the skulls for stars and was busy creating a night sky.

“Why is it so nuts to believe in magic? My grandmother says there are witches and in the countryside you can see them fly at nights in the shape of balls of fire.”

“Your grandma is a really good cook, but no offence, I wouldn’t take her stories at face value.”

“Why not?” Meche asked, sitting down in front of Sebastian. “You’re the one who told me about spiritism and mediums and shit in the nineteenth century.”

“I believe in ghosts,” ventured Daniela, raising her hand weakly.

“See?” Meche said. “She believes.”

“Okay. So how about we play Teenage Idol. Do I get to become Emanuel tomorrow and sing at a bunch of concerts?” Sebastian asked.

“Why don’t we find out?”

“You’re serious.”

Meche stared at Sebastian. He ripped out the page from his notebook, balled it and threw it in her wastebasket.

“Why shouldn’t music have power? My dad says it’s the most powerful thing in the world. Nietzsche says that without music, life would be a mistake.”

“Don’t quote me Nietzsche. I showed you Nietzsche,” Sebastian said in an offended tone.

“Why can’t music be magic? Aren’t spells just words you repeat? And what are songs? Lyrics that play over and over again. The words are like a formula.”

All around Meche’s room posters of band members and enlarged album covers looked down at them. Freddie Mercury leaned back on stage, Pedro Infante played the guitar. In a corner the Beatles were ready to ride the Yellow Submarine. Stacks of records were piled along Meche’s floor, cassettes poked out from a couple of boxes.

“Okay, how about backmasking?” said Meche. “Doesn’t Aleister Crowley suggest that adepts should listen to records reversed?”

“Yes,” said Sebastian. “But that doesn’t...”

“And all these people flipping out because they think Led Zeppelin’s Stairway to Heaven has a Satanic message?”

“So we should play records backwards? Do a Satanic ceremony?”

“Guys, I just want to remind you I have to be home by seven,” Daniela said. “I’m also not allowed to do any Satanic stuff.”

Sebastian and Meche looked at their friend. Daniela blinked and went back to working on the personality test culled from a teen magazine she was completing.

“Not a Satanic ceremony. You’re always talking about this stuff. Crowley? Rasputin had to be killed three times?”

“Because I like to read lots of weird shit. But I don’t want to go around brewing poisons and stuff. People already think I’m odd, I don’t want to give them any extra ammunition,” Sebastian muttered.

Sebastian began drawing on the side of his tennis shoes. More stars in black marker.

Meche wanted to hit them both on the back of the head. They didn’t get it! She expected it from Daniela because Daniela got about 10 percent of what went on in the world, but Sebastian? Sebastian loved this stuff. They had become friends four years before because Meche had been listening to Alan Parsons Project’s Tales of Mystery and Imagination and she didn’t get the references. So she decided to ask the only person in her class who might have the answer. At first Sebastian had been offended she didn’t know Edgar Allan Poe, but she had been equally offended he didn’t know Alan Parsons Project because they sang Games People Play from The Turn of a Friendly Card which, in her opinion, was a very nice concept album. Not the best, but nice. The best was an easy pick. Most people would probably say the concept album of all time was The Dark Side Of The Moon, but Meche preferred The Kinks’ Arthur (Or the Decline and Fall of the British Empire). Her parents had met thanks to that album.

“Aren’t you curious to see if it works?” Meche asked.

Sebastian capped his marker and stuffed it back in his pocket.

“It’ll never work,” he said with finality. “I have to go. I have a couple of hours bagging groceries tonight. Later.”

Meche scowled as Sebastian stepped out of her room. Great. The big ninny was not going to play ball. Daniela, looking pained, patted Meche on the knee.