Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let Down Your Scorn
Journal of Heartsick Piano Player
Day 1: Declan let me borrow his van. Set up piano at the edge of College Green, just a dawn. Fingers a bit stiff, but my heart is strong. I will win her back. I will play “Candle in the Wind” with such feeling, she can’t HELP but — bullocks. They’re writing out a ticket for the van. Best move it.
Day 2: Lovely chap name of Tristan from the Bristol Post came by to have a chat about what I’m doing. Declan rang up to tell me the video online is getting lots of views. Hopefully, she’ll see it and know that I — NOT COOL. Group of teenage boys just held me down and stuck a lolly in my hair. Really hurt, getting that out. Must stay focused. Maybe some Billy Joel will lift my spirits.
No. Not working. Some old geezer pissed out of his mind is singing along from a bench nearby. He doesn’t know the words. He’s just howling, really.
Day 4: Well the Internet has its fangs into this, now, according to Declan. “Sad Stalker Wank,” they’re calling me, and such, apparently. No matter. I’ll play on.
Day 7: Declan is after me for the parking fine on the van. Shop owner sweeping up called a “stupid tit.” No word from her.
Day 10: It’s gotten a bit scary, really. Was playing some tunes from Village Green Preservation Society yesterday afternoon, and today, car pulls up and out steps Ray Davies. Tosses a jar of piss at me, shatters jar at my feet, back in the car he goes. Screeching tires. two-fingered salute out the window.
Wonder is it his own piss, you think? Can’t tell by the smell.
Day 14: Far worse. It’s grown far worse. Busloads of tourists circling the Green, pelting me with bags of piss. Chap on the other side of the park’s doing a brisk business selling plastic bags full of piss.
Where’s he getting all the piss?
Day 15: Werner Herzog showed up. He’s pointing a camera at me, but he won’t SAY anything.
Day 18: Yesterday, I started playing Wonder Wall, and a barrister seated nearby hands me a sheaf of papers. Noel Gallagher is suing me for eight million quid. Still she is silent.
Day 21: I’ll have to stop. Police can no longer guarantee my safety, they say. No idea how I’ll get this piano out of here — Declan’s not returning calls.
So much piss. So, so much piss.
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