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The atonal and discordant noises of Aster’s guitar strumming resounded throughout Mr Nineinch’s apartment, causing similar but noticeably less intense reactions to Xylo’s chimpanzee screams. Alone in her barren, disheveled room, she plucked the strings and sang the lyrics of her latest tune as best she could, which was not very good. Her lyrics were also debatable in quality, shown below:
God damn it
God damn it
Life sucks
I hate it
God damn it
My roommates are jerks
I can’t play guitar
My voice is without notable merit
Fuck
God damn it
Her attempts to play this song, dubbed “God Damn It,” off her latest work-in-progress record More Songs That I Wrote and Played, was about as bad as her previous two albums, namely (in chronological order of release) Songs That I Wrote and Played and Also Songs That I Wrote and Played. The albums probably would’ve gotten a fanbase on pretentious online music forums, but they didn’t, mainly because of her inability to successfully promote them, with Also Songs That I Wrote and Played only getting a release of twenty CDs. The few people that did buy copies of her work didn’t like how she was terrible at both singing and playing the guitar. Her album covers, which were blurry and poorly-shot photos of her sobbing, did not help with her lack of widespread appeal.
With these memories running through her head, she continued to play her newest song quite horribly. Every time she started to get the strumming right, the pitch of her voice immediately faltered, and vice versa, leading to an utter lack of quality musicianship emanating from her room. After her roughly sixteenth attempt to play the song correctly, she set her guitar down next to her and laid back on her poorly-maintained bed, beginning to let out a few tears.
The door creaked open, and Xylo pushed his head into her room. “Hey, Aster, could you do me a favor?” He looked down while saying this and spotted her mattress-sniveling. She looked over at him and he promptly slammed the door shut. This did not stop the flow of tears.
Aster did not have many talents, and her tremendously shy and awkward personality did not help with her lack of success in life. Having to live with three other people in a cramped apartment gave a pretty accurate summary of her current financial situation. Her last hope to not die on the street was to make it as a successful indie folk musician, and she’d placed all her bets on this distant possibility. This put a considerable amount of stress on her, which made her feel considerably worse, making her considerably less able to perform and write well, in an ouroboros-styled loop.
Another song of hers, entitled “Why?,” off Songs That I Wrote and Played:
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why is this?
Why am I?
Why are you?
Why are we?
Why are they?
Why is he?
Why is she?
Why?
She wasn’t really sure what this song meant.
As a teenager, around the age of sixteen or so, her most desperate wish was to own an acoustic guitar so as to pursue her dreams of being a famous musician. Her parents, though, were too busy doing nothing to raise her or buy anything for her. This put the impetus of raising the funds for said guitar strictly on her. It took a plenitude of effort, but after several years, she was finally able to afford a cheap guitar in horrible condition from the nearby store, You’re Never Gonna Make It Music & Instruments. This was the same guitar she was using now. After her dream came true at last, she spent every waking moment practicing with it, writing song after song after really bad song after terrible song after somewhat ok song after shitty song, and trying her damndest to play the things. However, one wrench was thrown in her plans here, said wrench being her complete and utter lack of musical talent, as well as her quite poor voice. In the current moment, with her now several years of extensive playing, she was not much better in either department. Her breaking point seemed to be near, and she was considering giving up the craft, although the void of meaning that would leave in her life may end up being unbearable. She was not quite sure what to do.
She stared at the wall.