SLH4F DISCOVERS MUCOSAL TRUTH

high-pitch male vocals; Klezmer, syncopations, sudden jumps, tempo stutters, echoes, reverbs, repeats, improvs, whistles, sound effects, high notes, non-monotonous, BPM: Varied wildly 120-180

[KLEZMER SOLO]

[PRELUDE – DELAYED, AWKWARD. MICROPHONE FEEDBACK. THEN A SNIFFLE.]

A sad and lonely—
human… seeking…
[long pause, wrong note]
freedom
and
...antihistamines?

[INTRO – PIANO ENTERS LATE, ACCIDENTALLY IN TRIPLE TIME, THEN STUMBLES TO FOUR]
He once said spring was his favorite season.
(It is unclear whether this was metaphor, sarcasm, or anaphylaxis.)
[snare hit: "April?"]
April attacked him first.
Cherry blossoms as hostile agents.
And bees—oh god, the bees—
He waved at one like it was a concept.
[silence]
The bee did not wave back.

[VERSE 1 – clarinet sneezes, accordion wheezes]
He tried to love the pollen.
He named it all personally.
Ragweed became Ruth.
Birch spores became unrequested invitations to remember childhood
(Which he misremembered.)
He sneezed with purpose, then shame.
Then sneezed again, more performatively.
[spoken:] Gesundheit? No thank you. I wasn’t asking to be blessed.

[REFRAIN – CUT OFF, INTERRUPTED, REPEATED, DISTORTED]
A sad and lonely human...
[echo:] …seeking… [choir whispers:] freedom
[sneeze sound effect. someone claps once.]
A sad and—[cough]—
a human— [questioning:] lonely?
seeking freedom from… mucosal truth?

[VERSE 2 – double-time, then collapses to dirge mid-line]
He wore sunglasses indoors.
Said it was photophobia.
(It was. But also: it was sadness.)
Told no one about the Zyrtec dependency.
Except a barista.
Once.
Who misheard “allergy” as “allegory.”
And he did not correct them.
Because...
(he wasn’t sure they were wrong)

[clarinet: sarcastic Bach quote]
[chorus: fake coughs in canon]

[BRIDGE – SHUFFLING PAPER, WIND THROUGH DOOR, PHANTOM PUBLIC ANNOUNCEMENT]
He found a petal in his coat pocket.
It was artificial.
No tree had claimed it.
A metaphor, perhaps?
Or litter.
He put it in his mouth.
And bit gently.
(Said nothing.)

[REFRAIN – UNSTABLE, STRAINED, QUIET VOCALS, TRIPPING OVER SYLLABLES]
A sad and—sad and—lo—lonely
[spoken:] what was I saying again?
human, human... ?
Freedom. Freedom.
Freedom... from freedom?
[tissue-crumple sound layered rhythmically]

[CODA – FINAL NOTE HELD TOO LONG, THEN TOO SHORT]
[Piano: strikes a note, realizes it was wrong, plays it again louder]
[Clarinet: low gurgle, fades into whisper of a tune that never arrives]
He stood beneath the dogwood
And asked the wind to misread him.

[Silence.]
[A breath.]

...Does anyone else itch when thinking?

Oh yes! SHL4F.  A seasonal edition! Aha
There's more. But not today!

A sad and lonely human. Seeking! freedom!
[KLEZMER SOLO]

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[KLEZMER SOLO] [PRELUDE – DELAYED, AWKWARD. MICROPHONE FEEDBACK. THEN A SNIFFLE.] A sad and lonely— human… seeking… [long pause, wrong note] freedom and ...antihistamines? [INTRO – PIANO ENTERS LATE, ACCIDENTALLY IN TRIPLE TIME, THEN STUMBLES TO FOUR] He once said spring was his favorite season. (It is unclear whether this was metaphor, sarcasm, or anaphylaxis.) [snare hit: "April?"] April attacked him first. Cherry blossoms as hostile agents. And bees—oh god, the bees— He waved at one like it was a concept. [silence] The bee did not wave back. [VERSE 1 – clarinet sneezes, accordion wheezes] He tried to love the pollen. He named it all personally. Ragweed became Ruth. Birch spores became unrequested invitations to remember childhood (Which he misremembered.) He sneezed with purpose, then shame. Then sneezed again, more performatively. [spoken:] Gesundheit? No thank you. I wasn’t asking to be blessed. [REFRAIN – CUT OFF, INTERRUPTED, REPEATED, DISTORTED] A sad and lonely human... [echo:] …seeking… [choir whispers:] freedom [sneeze sound effect. someone claps once.] A sad and—[cough]— a human— [questioning:] lonely? seeking freedom from… mucosal truth? [VERSE 2 – double-time, then collapses to dirge mid-line] He wore sunglasses indoors. Said it was photophobia. (It was. But also: it was sadness.) Told no one about the Zyrtec dependency. Except a barista. Once. Who misheard “allergy” as “allegory.” And he did not correct them. Because... (he wasn’t sure they were wrong) [clarinet: sarcastic Bach quote] [chorus: fake coughs in canon] [BRIDGE – SHUFFLING PAPER, WIND THROUGH DOOR, PHANTOM PUBLIC ANNOUNCEMENT] He found a petal in his coat pocket. It was artificial. No tree had claimed it. A metaphor, perhaps? Or litter. He put it in his mouth. And bit gently. (Said nothing.) [REFRAIN – UNSTABLE, STRAINED, QUIET VOCALS, TRIPPING OVER SYLLABLES] A sad and—sad and—lo—lonely [spoken:] what was I saying again? human, human... ? Freedom. Freedom. Freedom... from freedom? [tissue-crumple sound layered rhythmically] [CODA – FINAL NOTE HELD TOO LONG, THEN TOO SHORT] [Piano: strikes a note, realizes it was wrong, plays it again louder] [Clarinet: low gurgle, fades into whisper of a tune that never arrives] He stood beneath the dogwood And asked the wind to misread him. [Silence.] [A breath.] ...Does anyone else itch when thinking? Oh yes! SHL4F. A seasonal edition! Aha There's more. But not today! A sad and lonely human. Seeking! freedom! [KLEZMER SOLO]

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