Front Man (Original Short Story)

"When I get down from the stage I feel like I'm being torn into a million pieces that fly away like butterflies and my soul is disbursed amongst the universe."

Front Man

Part 1

When I'm on stage I feel like I'm at the pinnacle, like I'm at the top. I am the voice that everyone is listening to. When I get down from the stage I feel like I'm being torn into a million pieces that fly away like butterflies and my soul is disbursed amongst the universe. My voice is everywhere and everyone is asking for a piece of it.

I need to be up there, on that stage.

One day I was sitting in my bedroom learning how to strum a guitar. Now I have all of this. I have great power, yet I am powerless.

I guess, I don't know any other way I could have done this life. But it doesn't even seem like it’s happening to me. It just feels like it is happening.

Part 2

I was sitting in my bedroom one-day learning how to play my guitar and the dream just came to me. I didn't ask for it. I took it though.

I just played the songs I got from my dream. I recorded a couple of them and put them up on YouTube. They started getting thousands of views, then millions. The next thing I knew some record guy was calling me.

My parents and my friends are happy for me. My parents didn't even try to stop it. I kind of feel like they were supposed to? They were the ones who were supposed to protect me.

Here I am now, look at me. I’ve become a shell of a person. An empty figure head, with a bleeding soul.

When I'm up there I feel like I'm a lightning rod. Like all the energy in the world is funneling in, and exiting through my breath. It's the most amazing feeling. Like I'm one with the universe. Everyone in the audience singing along. Singing my words back to me.

Onstage everything is in tune. Everything is balanced.

But it has to end sometime, I can't sing forever. People have to leave. They have to go home. They have lives. They have jobs. Not like me, they have real jobs. They go to school. They drive cars and build houses and have children.

When I leave the stage it's like I have nothing. They take me with them. They take my voice. They take my words and I'm spread so thin. I'm so translucent I'm almost invisible. It doesn’t feel like anything. It feels more like a lack of something. It feels like I’m being sucked through a tube.

I don't want it anymore. There was a time when I wanted it. But I didn't know what I wanted. I didn't really know what it would be like to get it.

I had a dream and it was just an idea. I just wanted to be, something. I just wanted love. Love is all I have to give to the world. As if that’s all that the world needs. As if my words could save it.

It was my dream for everyone to know me. I thought knowing me would take all my problems away. I thought if they just saw me the way I see me, they would understand.

They only know me when I am on stage. They only know the words. They only know the feelings.

Everyone thinks that they love me now. They don't fucking know me. They don't know that I'm a fake. They don't know that it's not even mine. I stole it from the ether. I stole it from the universe. I stole it from my fucking dream.

It was easy when I was just living in my dream. I could just imagine. I could just imagine everyone loving me. I could just imagine having all the money that I wanted, all the fame.

Did I use the dream all up? Maybe I stepped so hard onto my dream that I broke it. I fell into it headlong. I’ve had so many dreams that just came and went. Why did this one have to come true?

Part 3

I had to do an interview yesterday on the “Internet is Real” show, with Ricky Rick.

“So Johnathan,” said Ricky. “Where does your inspiration come from?”

I wanted to tell him the truth. I wanted to tell the world the truth. Instead I had to tell him the prepackaged answer my manager fed me. “I get my inspiration from the world around me. My fans are all the inspiration I need,” I lied.

I know exactly where the inspiration comes from. It comes from the fucking dream.

In my dream there was a man. He set the book down on my bed, he walked away and I just took it. But he wasn’t real. It was just a dream.

When he came back to get his book I told him I hadn’t seen it. That he must have left it somewhere else. I locked my bedroom door and wouldn’t let him in. He was pounding on my door as I sat on my bed and read the book. I read the whole book.

The funny thing. The messed up thing, is that I can remember every word in the book. In my mind I can pull up every page. That’s where the songs come from.

I used to just lay in my bed. No one bothered me there. I would come home from school, lay down and dream. It wasn’t sleep dreaming. I was awake. I would just lay there and imagine.

When this dream first started I was in control. I was amazed, but in control. I knew I had bridged the gap. I had crossed between the “real world” and the “dream world” and I had done it right from my bedroom. It just expanded from there.

Part 4

The record guy that found me, Dave Rollum, flew me out to his studio in L.A. It was the most amazing thing I had ever done. He took me to the company recording studio with my guitar and I just started to play. They turned on the mics and I started singing the songs I found in the book. It was easy. It was freeing.

I started meeting movie stars and other singers. I just couldn’t help but ask them, is this real? They all laugh and would say, this is all it is. This is all that you get. You’re here. You made it.

I am surrounded by beautiful women every day. This is what I wanted. This is what I wanted. This is what I wanted…

“Dave, I’m having some problems here,” I said.

“Kid look, you have no problems,” said Dave. “You have a problem and we fix it. Simple as that. You need something, anything, and we get it for you. You ever hear of the term ‘too big to fail’ Johnny Boy? You’re it.”

“Don’t call me Johnny Boy. You know I hate that. No Dave, you don’t understand. You can’t just fix everything. This is too big. This is too real, or not real. Fuck I’m not even sure.”

“When I say anything, I mean anything. You sound shaken up kid. What do you have going on? Did you kill some chick? We can take care of that, just give me the low down,” said Dave.

“No Dave, I didn’t kill anyone. It’s just that, you’re the only one I can talk too. No one else wants to hear anything from me accept my songs.”

“Yeah, no worries Johnny Boy. I will listen to anything you have to say. I’m here for you kid. Hey listen. I got to take this call. You know I’m here for you though, if you need anything. You have a problem—I’ll take care of it. Gotta go. Later Johnny Boy. Stay out of trouble,” click.

If I had not read that stupid book, would I have been able to avoid this? How did that asshole get into my bedroom with the book anyway? I guess I let him in. It was my fault. It was me.

Part 5

"

The space between the audience and I seem to be getting closer and closer. Being on stage is still the only place that I feel okay. On stage is the only place I feel centered, but it’s getting very weird. It feels at points like I’m becoming the audience.

During the show the audience and I reach these states where everyone is tuned in and we are all connecting, I start to blend into them. The first time this happened I almost stopped singing. I don’t have a very high opinion of myself, but what I do have I don’t want to lose. I feel like when I let go and the crowd just absorbs me, I become it, or it becomes me, I’m not sure.

Last night when I was singing “Love is the Light” I almost faded away. A bright white light surrounded me. Everything got intensely quiet inside me. I stopped singing, but everything around me went on. We were so tuned in that it didn’t even faze the audience. I came back and they just wanted more.

Part 6

The part that scares me the most is that I’m not who they think I am. They think I’m this special person with these songs that have the answers to their problems. I don’t know how to tell them I’m nobody.

What if I did? What if I just went on-line and announced to the world that I’m a fake? That I don’t even know what I’m saying. I just sing.

The good news is, that it seems like less and less time is spent between concerts now. I think my manger is starting to get it, because he’s not letting me have very much down time. I’m having to deal with less and less of the daily grind bullshit that I’ve had to deal with all my life.

The crowd still takes more of my soul every time I leave the stage, but I’m getting used to it now. I’m sinking into it. My soul is so thin that I can see through it. No one seems to care though. I just let it happen. What choice do I have?

When I’m off stage the only thing I have energy to do is read the book in my mind’s eye. I’m drawn to it. I keep finding pages that I didn’t remember reading before. I’ve completely lost control at this point. All I can do to keep it together is read the book.

The book isn’t complicated. It’s almost all songs. Songs and whatever comes next.

Part 7

I found a new page in the book today. It says that I need to let go. When I merge with the audience I’m supposed to let go, and let it take me. It says that after I let go there is another level.

The book doesn’t say it, but I get the feeling that once I get to the other level I can’t get back here. That’s what really scares me. What if I can’t I can’t get back?

The book doesn’t let me ask questions. I have so many questions. Why is this happening to me? Why can’t anyone help me? I’m so far away?

Part 8

I called my best friend Donald. “Dude, I’m not feeling good. I need some help.”

“What’s up John? I’ll do anything for you man.”

“This doesn’t feel real. I’m not whole. This is more than I can handle.”

“You have everything you could ever want. What more do you need? Most people would die to be in your shoes. You are probably the most popular person in the world right now.”

“What if I don’t want it anymore? What if I just want everything to go back to normal.” I said. I started to cry.

“John, I would take this thing in a heartbeat if I could, but it’s all you man. You can’t stop it now. Your too huge. Everyone loves you.”

“I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy, Donald.”

“Whatever man. Take some deep breaths. Aren’t you supposed to be going on stage any minute?”

He was right. I was supposed to go on stage.

The book said that fear is a level. It’s just a level that can be pushed through, like a membrane. Once you get past it you find the next level. The next level it says, is clarity.

I’m not afraid to be on stage. Being in front of people has never scared me. I’ve always had this ability to open my soul. To let it flow out of me. I’m getting used to that.

The part that scares me is letting go. When I exhale and my heart opens and all of me pours out, the book says I’m supposed to let go. That’s my fear now. That’s where all my fear stems from. Letting go.

Part 9

I’m walking the steps. The steps are black and lead up, to the door at the edge of the stage. I walk through into the bright white light.

I am surrounded by the audience. The event is being streamed live all over the world. Everyone is here. I am at the center.

I open my mouth to sing and the audience is with me. Every word, every breath.

I don’t have to sing anymore—the audience carries me. They draw the words directly from my soul.

This is what it feels like to be whole. It feels like everything and nothing. It feels ungrounded and balanced. My soul has no weight, it is light.

I look down for one last glimpse. I am laying on the bed. Book in my hands. Calm and peaceful. The dream is ending now. I am drifting off… Unplugged. To fill my space in the universe.

The End

Twitter: @dougynoble
Website: http://www.douglasjohnnoble.com

-Doug