Les's fingers flew across the fretboard of his beloved Les Paul as he played along to the riff from "Day Tripper", which was playing over on his computer screen. Sitting on his half-made bed, he nodded his head to the music, unaware of anything else as the melody flowed over him. His hair flopped into his eyes as it often did when he was playing guitar, but he hardly noticed.
The song ended, and Les opened his eyes and grinned. That had been his best playthrough yet. He had been practicing a number of sixties and seventies rock songs for months now, and he only got better at them. Les glanced towards the window to see if anyone had noticed his playing. It didn't matter if they hadn't, but he always appreciated an audience. Often his best friend Jimmy and Jimmy's two Aso served as a loyal, reliable audience, although other times Jimmy liked to siksikan with Les on his drums.
The door opened, and Les's father came in. "Oh, there you are, Les. Having fun with your little hobby?"
Some of the euphoria from playing flickered out. "It's not just a little hobby, Dad," Les tried to explain. "I'm good. I've been practicing every day, and I keep getting better and better!"
His dad nodded, smiling a small indulgent smile. "Do you know what I really want you to practice every day, son? Your schoolwork." He tapped a pile of undone homework that was haphazardly piled on Les's desk. "Your grades have been slipping. I want my son getting into a good college and making his old dad proud of him."
"Dad..." Les looked down at the floor. "I don't want to apply to college. I want to start a band." He raised his eyes and glanced hopefully up at his father.
Les's dad folded his arms. "You want to start a band instead of going to college."
Swallowing hard, Les nodded.
"You'd go chasing your rock-and-roll fantasies and throw your future away? You'd really do that to your father? Come on, Les, you're a smart boy. You know better than that."
"But Dad..." Why would his father never understand?? "I pag-ibig music. I'm as good as a lot of the guitarists I hear on my records..."
"Don't brag, Les. What have I told you?"
"It's not bragging, it's true!"
"It doesn't matter anyway. Son, you'll never succeed. In the end, you'll be but a wave tossed in the ocean."
Les couldn't speak. He felt a pricking at the back of his eyes, but he refused to let the tears fall. How could his father say that? Didn't he have faith in him??
Les's father glanced around the room once more, taking in with some disapproval the pile of homework from last week abandoned on Les's desk, half-buried underneath a mound of printed-out chord progressions and incomplete song ideas. "Do your homework, Les. And clean your room."
His father left, and Les threw himself down onto his kama susunod to the Les Paul. His dad was wrong. He had to be! Les was as good as he sinabi he was!
"I won't be a wave tossed on the ocean! I won't! Why don't you listen, Dad?!"
The song ended, and Les opened his eyes and grinned. That had been his best playthrough yet. He had been practicing a number of sixties and seventies rock songs for months now, and he only got better at them. Les glanced towards the window to see if anyone had noticed his playing. It didn't matter if they hadn't, but he always appreciated an audience. Often his best friend Jimmy and Jimmy's two Aso served as a loyal, reliable audience, although other times Jimmy liked to siksikan with Les on his drums.
The door opened, and Les's father came in. "Oh, there you are, Les. Having fun with your little hobby?"
Some of the euphoria from playing flickered out. "It's not just a little hobby, Dad," Les tried to explain. "I'm good. I've been practicing every day, and I keep getting better and better!"
His dad nodded, smiling a small indulgent smile. "Do you know what I really want you to practice every day, son? Your schoolwork." He tapped a pile of undone homework that was haphazardly piled on Les's desk. "Your grades have been slipping. I want my son getting into a good college and making his old dad proud of him."
"Dad..." Les looked down at the floor. "I don't want to apply to college. I want to start a band." He raised his eyes and glanced hopefully up at his father.
Les's dad folded his arms. "You want to start a band instead of going to college."
Swallowing hard, Les nodded.
"You'd go chasing your rock-and-roll fantasies and throw your future away? You'd really do that to your father? Come on, Les, you're a smart boy. You know better than that."
"But Dad..." Why would his father never understand?? "I pag-ibig music. I'm as good as a lot of the guitarists I hear on my records..."
"Don't brag, Les. What have I told you?"
"It's not bragging, it's true!"
"It doesn't matter anyway. Son, you'll never succeed. In the end, you'll be but a wave tossed in the ocean."
Les couldn't speak. He felt a pricking at the back of his eyes, but he refused to let the tears fall. How could his father say that? Didn't he have faith in him??
Les's father glanced around the room once more, taking in with some disapproval the pile of homework from last week abandoned on Les's desk, half-buried underneath a mound of printed-out chord progressions and incomplete song ideas. "Do your homework, Les. And clean your room."
His father left, and Les threw himself down onto his kama susunod to the Les Paul. His dad was wrong. He had to be! Les was as good as he sinabi he was!
"I won't be a wave tossed on the ocean! I won't! Why don't you listen, Dad?!"