A flock of birds is overhead. A piano teacher who looks like Meryl Streep and three students who look like the Thompson Twins sit in High Park having a picnic before they break for the summer. A rollerblader who looks like Wesley Snipes whizzes by blasting Lauren Hill’s Everything is Everything from a portable player.
“I love her” says the student who looked like two conga percussionist in the Hold Me Now video. The one who looks like the big hat multi instrumentalist points at the large movement of birds overhead, “Isn’t that amazing!? Like they are one living thing.”
“But aren’t they one living thing? Like the Lauren Hill song.” states Meryl.
“Uh uh.” says big hat looking for support from her bandmates. The third student, the one who looks like the lead singer with red hair and the ponytail that should not have been a ponytail nods his head, affirms her position, so does the first student. They disagree with Meryl. They are something more than just three individual piano students – just like the Thompson Twins.
Meryl points at the woods.
“When you hear the Moonlight Sonata – you hear the piece as a living organism or do you notice every A# and think A# every time the hammer hits the string? You see that big tree or 578 separate leaves? “
“Well at least we’re real” says bad ponytail like a fussy smartypants.
“Wouldn’t be so sure” says Meryl with all the poise she usually shows accepting Oscars. “At the cellular level, each cell has a job to do right?” All three slowly agree, and their body language is more believable than their entire music video catalogue – especially Lay Your Hands On Me. “Each cell is programmed to do a job and it tries to enact that job, as the single cell it is.. true?” They look at each other like three wooden actors who can’t escape their fate (like the Doctor Doctor video).
“Yeah that’s about right” says short dreadlocks.
“So as separate cells come together they make you and me and we appear to be you or me but really we are just a bunch of separate cells appearing to be something like those birds in the sky.”
And then Wesley Snipes whizzes by blasting I Zimbra so loud that the Thompson Twins can’t hear their own thoughts, can’t determine whether they are individuals or single cells, whether they are real people or just subs in a band that seems to be writing it’s own music or maybe it’s covers and what seemed to be High Park is just a cruise ship and they’re that lousy band that’s suppose to make music to please everyone which leaves them wishing they were somewhere else but what good would that do if everything is everything.