Light From Uncommon Stars

by Ryka Aoki

“By the way, why aren’t you having the duck?” Shizuka said, looking away from the scrambler. The duck? Lan hesitated. They had just been feeding ducks at the park. Ducks that had been gliding like spaceships, fighting for her donuts as if they were the most delicious things in the world. Of course, they were not the same birds. But still … “Lan, how can music lovers be so hateful when they find a musician is transgender? How is the person eating waffles with her grandchildren the same one who calls me a Chink? Yehudi Menuhin plays Mendelssohn, and people smash his records and call him a Nazi sympathizer. The person fighting for racial justice believes ‘God hates Fags.’ Proud, happy parents change the moment the car door is closed.” Shizuka grabbed a golden piece of duck and held it in front of her. “Too many sections.” “Sections?” “One usually learns to play a piece a section at a time. Within each section, the musician will memorize passages, phrases, movements, until the sections reach from beginning to end.” Lan nodded. That made sense. Of course you would break a large task into smaller ones. “And so many live the same way. One becomes a good plumber, or mother, or Christian, or Dodger fan, or teenager. One lives section by section, one stage to the next. “But sometimes, sections change keys, tempos. They change moods. Timing … Some melodies don’t resolve in an expected way. Some don’t resolve at all. So people begin to fear playing beyond the sections they have played...

This is bullshit.