Carlton and I

Since I’ve given due credit to Morris, I think there’s one other guy whom I’ll be damned if I didn’t credit him for making me wat I am today.

This is the guy, who’s given me so much, and never asked anything back in return. Often neglected, he has become just a common fixture in the home. He’s the old steward of the home, and has watched me grow up from a reluctant kid to a fine lady who expresses her sadness to him whenever she is down.

I’ve given up on Carlton twice, yet he still stood by me. For a kid with no persistence, and no talent, he accommodates me, only because only he can understand my passion and frustration. I remember how my mum used to tell us how much she loves such music and I get a tinge of disappointment from here at how we didn’t turn out the way she had hoped that we would. Daddy doesn’t say that he likes anything about Carlton but I know that he enjoys hearing what little thing that I create with that old guy. Many times, on Sundays, I actually deliberately play when he’s around, or just before he steps out of the house, so that he can hear the things that I create.

Lately, I’ve stopped regurgitating from the text and learned to experiment on my own, piece together what I’ve learnt from around me, to create things of my own. I’ve decided to fall out of the league gracefully and do something uniquely mine.

I’m sorry for not being knowledgeable enough for you, and not maintaining your splendor over the last 20 years.
I’m sorry for those half-baked tunes and many others which are still incomplete.

Carlton, you’re one trusty old guy whom I’ll never think of discarding from the home. (psss: If anything, the rotten sofa should go first.)

I love my Carlton! Cos he never despises me. All the more, I shouldn’t haggle over better.