cycleofages | (no subject)

Who: Jamal Lyon, OTA
What: Trying to get out of his creative rut??
Where: Rec room
When: Nov 20, late morning
Warning: Mention of violence.

After spending more time that could be reasonable in his room, Jamal decides that the same scenery day after day isn't good for his creative processes. So despite the fact that he's still more of the opinion that he wants to avoid encounters -- which probably would have been good for him anyway -- he made his way down to rec area. He knew there were different areas for activities but he was drawn to the comfy sofas for now.

Setting against the the arm of one, he pulls the pencil from where he'd stored it behind his ear, the tablet that had been in his other hand now on his lap. Honestly, there wasn't much more here to give him a spark of inspiration than there had been in his room. He really should look into trying to get his hands on a keyboard again.

He shook his head, putting pencil to paper and furrowing his brow when not a single word came and the music that his entire life had been a constant companion and soundtrack to the world was silenced --had been since he'd been shot at an awards show. Maybe he'd lost his music in all that had changed.

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Dyme waited a moment to make sure he wasn't interrupting a good writing session before he said anything more. "What're you working on? If you don't mind me asking." He wouldn't pester anyone about what they were doing if they didn't want to share.

Jamal certainly didn't mind and honestly, he wasn't getting much done which was starting to frustrate him if he were being completely honest. So talking to someone was actually a welcome aside.

"Was trying to start a new song," he said, rubbing his forehead briefly. "But nothing's there."

Dyme made a thoughtful noise. "I know that feeling. Sometimes the hardest part is starting it," he said. "And then you're stuck with that restless feeling because you want to write but you can't find inspiration and it just--it sucks." And he knew that feeling well. He'd spent months struggling with a creative block after Moira, and it hadn't been easy writing songs for a long while.

"Exactly that," Jamal nodded and it'd been a while since he'd talked to anyone that understood song-writing enough to say something like that. He sighed as he glanced at the notebook. "It makes me feel incomplete."

"Yeah." It'd been a long time since Dyme had talked music with anyone, and he hadn't had many musician friends at home. "Sometimes it helps not to think about it too much. I used to, uh, watch videos. Online. When I had trouble." Of cats, mostly. Or movies.

Jamal was a musician from a family of musicians that ran a kingdom of music. Not having someone to talk about music with had been a bit like starving to him. "Oh yeah?" Jamal smiled a little. "I used to..." he really hadn't ever had trouble with it like this before, he rubbed his forehead.

"Used to do a jam session with my little brother." If there had ever been a moment he got stuck, he'd call Hakeem and they'd work it out.

Dyme smiled despite the small pang of sadness he felt, pushing the emotion down just like he'd done hundreds of times before. Thirteen years without his own brother was both a long time and not long enough to not still miss him.

"Brothers are great like that, aren't they?" Dyme said. "Sometimes the guys in my band would help me out like that." When and if he'd admit to them that he needed help. Usually he tried to work through it on his own, though.

Jamal nodded. Hakeem was a pain in the ass but he'd always been there in the end when it really mattered. His older brother too. He still wasn't used to living in a world where they aren't just a phone call away.

"You had a band and all, huh?" Jamal asked with a small smile. "What kind of music? Rock?"

"Yeah." Dyme modded. "They're great guys." He wondered what they were doing without him. This wasn't the first time he'd vanished, but it would be the first time that no one would be able to get a hold of him. They'd stuck with him through a lot--they deserved to know he hadn't died or something.

"What gave it away? I love rock. I tried some ballads once, but." But those had been for Moira, and that time was over now. "It didn't go too well."

"well you don't look like you're in a boy band," Jamal replied dryly but there was still humor in his eyes. "I do a lot of ballads," he rubbed his chin. He did a lot of different sorts of things but he supposed the all fell under the umbrella of hip hop or r&b which was utterly predictable so he didn't feel the need to offer the information out loud.

"Why do you say it didn't go well though?"

"I guess I don't," he laughed. "Ballads are nice, I like them, I just..." he'd only tried with Moira, because she'd made him happy. Not that he wasn't happy now, but it was different. "When the muse is gone, sometimes you just can't get back in the right headspace for something." He had finished ballads, but he was never going to sing or record them, most likely.