Slush Gods, Thresholds, and a Free Piano

The annoying part about being a musician is that in order to be any good, you have to practice. This is all well and good for my guitar playing since it's barely audible and highly portable. I could literally whip it out anyplace and just start going to town. That last sentence should be quoted out of context in as many ways possible. But as a piano player living in a condominium, my ability to tickle the ivories has been greatly thwarted. I now no longer live near a piano and buying a new one isn't the most feasible option financially. So when my mother sent me a link to a blog offering a free piano, it seemed wise to jump at the opportunity.



My mother is very into the world of Fantasy/Sci-Fi writing. She isn't so much an escapist like the LARP's (live action role-players) featured in a previous post, but rather a hungry professional looking to network in the business. In her efforts to rub elbows with the right people, one of her stories was taken notice by an individual known only as " The Slush God"...well some people know him as John. His moniker is a bit confusing and does not do justice to the weight he carries in the realm of fantasy writing. You see he is the assistant editor of Fantasy & Science Fiction magazine ::fanfare::.

In a recent blog of his, he noted that he was giving up a few musical items. The advertisement itself was pretty long. It took half a sentence to tell everyone that he was giving away a piano while the rest of the post was devoted entirely to describing the Century Media Contamination compilation he was giving away. He even included a scanned copy of the jacket and a detailed account of which bands were any good. Of course he already had the albums of the good bands from that compilation because the Slush God is a metal head ::horns::. Being one myself, I had to admire his priorities in this advertisement .

He knows what people really want! Of course, after making fun of him, I realize that there was a prior blog advertising the piano. It still wasn't longer than the CD advertisement, though.

But having caught that small blurb, my mother sent me an e-mail offering to drive me up to Perth Amboy to check it out. That Saturday morning, the four Deals (sans Liz and Lindsay) trekked up to North Jersey to scope out the joint. We arrived at a very un-assuming house and were greeted at the door by a young man who was donning an In Flames: Colony t-shirt. I gave him props for the heavy metal jersey and passed through the Slush God's threshold.

In an interesting sidenote, I'd like to go into the etymology of that last phrase "Slush God's Threshold". You see the term "Slush" allegedly comes from a time when editors would literally have to wade through the pile of manuscripts that had been pushed either under their door or through the mail slot the weekend prior. This sensation was compared to wading through a bank of snow and so manuscripts awaiting approval are now known as "slush". In olden days (circa 1500 AD), those people fortunate enough to even have a floor had to use slate. Slate had a tendency to become wet and slippery during the winter and so straw, also known as "thresh", was laid down to maintain a footing. As the winter grew longer, more and more straw needed to be added and such a volume would often slide out the front door. A plank of wood was installed at the foot of the doorway creating a "thresh" hold. In conclusion, both "Slush" and "threshold" seem to refer to a pile of garbage behind the front door. There will be quiz on this at the end of class.

As I entered the Slush God's domain, I was immediately appreciative of just how much this guy loved reading. There were mountains upon piles of books. It was much like V's guest bedroom in V for Vendetta. I was a bit overwhelmed, but went to business as soon as possible to be both unintrusive and to increase the amount of time in the afternoon which I could play stupid games with Buddy. I inspected the piano, which other than a broken hammer and it being ridiculously neglected and out of tune, was a fine instrument.

Buddy, Dad and I spent the next 15 minutes giving ourselves a couple hernias and broken backs moving it down the front porch and into Dad's van. We drove it back south and when we arrived at my development, we continued the aggressive assault on our bodies as we carried it up to my second floor condominium. While shaking up this fine piece of craftmanship, we found that there were a couple loose coins within the body of the piano. Not only was it free, but it actually came with money! One has to wonder if the previous owners though it was a nickelodeon of some kind. Whatever it is, it now lives in my living room and in the words of Lebowsky, "it really tie[s] the room together". Other than the fact that it is obscenely out of tune, has a broken hammer, and is only 73 keys versus a full 88-key piano, it is a fine instrument to call my own. Well worth the effort.

I think I nearly got a hernia laughing at this next movie: