"Shut your mouth if all you can say is stupid!" I fumed with anger, "The world survives on mutual respect. You respect me, I respect you. He respects me, I respect him. In no way, I can smile when an elder calls me and my dear music crap and useless. I ain't a saint."
I shook my head. now everyone understood i was too mad to care about any morals, anything or anyone. i might have lashed out even at the thug if he said anything unwelcome to me.
"I get you, son. i get you," the old woman said. I compelled myself to wait with delicate patience to hear what she had to offer. if it turned out hostile, i swore she was going to regret it for the rest of her life.
"but the priest is right when it comes to you, young musicians," hostile but her kind tone downplayed the hostility, "your music seems aimless. it lacks meaning. you are talking about women, money, drugs and dominance. it disappoints me that i frequently have to return to my aging playlists."
"You are wrong!" I told her firmly, the exact moment she came to a halt, "On one hand, I can give you a lengthy list of old songs that talk about women, money, drugs and dominance. on the other hand, i can give you an excessively lengthy list of this generation songs by young artists of this generation that are meaningful, educative and positively life-changing."
"Very few old songs are nasty and very few new generation songs are good and meaningful," she remarked.
my response was; "that means you, the priest and the many of elder people are wrong. you yourself admitted it."
when she heard that, she adopted a puzzled expression.
"Many new generation musicians sing and rap about women, money, drugs and dominance. it is a fact, i never intend to deny. it is as well a fact that there a good number of new generation musicians who make good, meaningful music making good impact in society. Taking us new generation musicians collectively as nasty, stray and useless is extremely unfair," Prejudice disgust me, "I spent my energy and time, i sweat to forge music that is not only going to entertain but also company individuals of all ages. i believe music with proper utilization is a powerful and quite effective tool to positively influence, educate, assist and motivate people. it hurts so much that many elder people think what i do is nasty, crap and useless without listening to it. i start to think that it is a crime to belong to a group, in this case an age group. my target audience is neither young nor old. Not white nor black. not a particular group but all people," i found my eyes moistening. even my voice was reduced to a sob.
"Anyway," I wiped tears off my eyes with my fingers, "some still appreciate my work. last week i had a touching long call with a 72-year-old man. he said my song 'optimistic' saved him from committing suicide. it encouraged me a lot. that is why i make music in the first place. God be with him."
when i raised my head and gazed at the old woman I saw surprise on her face.
"you're the artist of the song, 'optimistic,'?" she inquired.
"it depends on which song called optimistic are you talking about you. after all, there a whole bunch of them out there." i told her.
"Optimistic, things will get better.
Optimistic, my things will work out one day," she sang, surprising me.
I nodded in approval.
"Oh my God, I like that song," she beamed, "The song is wonderful. it helps me cope with stress and different problems."
I raised my head high and said; "okay"
"I was wrong, indeed. I remember, I've got a bunch of great songs by youngsters like you. Forgive me, son,"
"I forgive you," i forgave her.
"Never in my life will I listen to your music or of your fellow stray kids." the priest spat.
I raised my brows, "of course, you will never."
the priest looked at me questioningly.
"You will die here before you may," I announced, "Frankly speaking, I don't wish death on you. it is that i have come to a realization that you are not as strong as i thought."
"All humans are pathetic," the thug yelled, "That includes you."
he pointed at me with the pistol.
I bit my lower lip and said in my mind, "I'll prove you wrong."
My confidence and undying optimism never ceased to surprise me. I carefully shifted on my seat without getting separated from my seat. I guess it is not difficult for anyone to understand how it felt sitting in one place for about seven hours.
the chandelier's light was strong and visibly bright now that the darkness had came.
"I hope we won't have to be in this position for a whole day," I complained.
"No," Mah shook his head, "No one stays in this restaurant for over twenty-three hours."