Math and Music

Brief Title:
Math and Music

Ambrose and Vaughn

Scene Runner/Watcher:

IC Date:
07/16/12 20:45

Central Park, NYC

Ambrose and Vaughn run into one another in the park and discuss math, music, and dinosaurs.

Social or Plot:


A bright sunny afternoon this day in Central Park. It seems there was an impromptu 'art in the park', with painters, cariacture-drawers, and even some musicians and modellers working carefully. There was even a very skilled mime.

Ambrose himself was currently pouring over a peice of paper, a set of cheap watercolors beside him as he carefully adds a SINGLE drop of green to his barely-used paper, staring at it intently, and then adding another one, oblivoius to the world around him.

The fact that there was this little impromptu art show going on was apparently a surprise for Vaughn, who had shown up for a bit of relaxation in the park. He has an old, beat-up guitar slung over his shoulder. At first he doesn't really recognize anyone there. Asking a couple of the artist if they would mind him playing off to the side. He sits down under a tree, not very far from where Ambrose is sitting. He softly tunes the strings before he starts to play softly. For those familiar with 60's rock, he is playing Turn, Turn, Turn by the Byrds.

Ambrose stirrs a little, hearing the music. He blinks and stares at his sheet. then turns it over. Then turns it over again. Then twitches "GAH!" he yelps, putting his paint brush down and the paper, turning to stalk towards Vaughn with intent.

Vaughn is dressed much more sedately than he was during the rave, wearing a pair of looser fitting jeans with the left knee ripped out and a loose-fitting baseball cut three quarter sleeved red and blue shirt. As Ambrose stalks towards him, he looks up. The music stops abruptly as the man approaches. "Was I bothering you? I asked around. No one said anything."

Ambrose shakes his head, then inhales as he tries to calm down "nono. It was... Its me, not you." he explains, and rubs a hand on his forehead "It is not your fault entirely. Sorry. I sometimes get so involved in what I do that I forget about manners." he admits, with a bit of a weary smile.

Vaughn's fingers are still poised on the strings and frets. He glances to Ambrose and to the faces of any of those nearby who may have chosen to watch. "Um.. should I continue then?" He pauses, as his forehead furrows slightly. "I think I know you... Oh, yeah, you're the old guy at the rave." He pauses, "Well, not old, old.. just old in comparison to nearly everyone else that was there."

"Yes, yes please do.." he freezes, staring at Vaughn. Then recognition dawns "Ahah! The shirtless man I wasted beer on! Hello again!"

A wide, though slightly dopey grin dances across his lips, causing dimples to frame it, as Vaughn chuckles slightly. "Well, judging by a couple of the reactions, I don't think everyone thought that the beer was wasted." As he starts talking to Ambrose, he starts to play again. "I don't think I ever caught your name. I'm Vaughn."

His cheeks went a little pink, and the Man steps to one side to let him play, not at all offering a hand "Ahh... I am being called Amby lately. I thought the Rave may offer enough mental stilmulation to sate me, but it turns out it veyr much does NOT."

Vaughn cocks his head, "You do realize that is like the exact opposite reason for a rave, right? Raves are about not thinking... not thinking too much. It's about letting yourself get caught up in the music, in the sway of the crowd and the beat... feeling the music as much as hearing it."

Ambrose thinks about this, then remarks "So THAT is what I am doing wrong. I was counting on the overstimulation to distract me." he confesses.

Vaughn grins, "Not sayin' that the music can't be complex, but a lot of it isn't... it's a few base beats and a repetitive chord. If you want music that's overly complex and that's suppose to make you think... go to the symphony, especially like Mozart. The man is the bomb when you really listen to all the little elements that come together so smoothly."

Ambrose nods "Some CAN be quite complex. I tried drums in high school, and found working out complex rythms to be quite interesting. But my true interests lay elsewhere." he grins "Mozart, ahh... yes, very well. You know one of my vaourite own peices, to do a Tour de Force, is a rap-slash-poem I did to the Fibonnaci Sequence. " he admits.

And a blank expression descends over Vaughn's features. "Um... sorry what? Fibonnaci Sequence? That kind of sounds like something off of Star Trek."

"No, its a real thing. Its math. You take the two previous numbers, and add them together. So zero and one equals one. One and one equals two, one and two equals three, two and three equals five... and so on." explains Ambrose with patience. "What I did was listened to a little rap, then use the Sequence to figure out the syllables required for each line."

Vaughn frowns slightly, as he listens. He still looks slightly confused. "I'm not really sure that I follow. I mean I get that number thing, but I'm not sure I follow what you mean about the syllables... so each line grows in length?"

Ambrose nods "Yes! So the first line, you say nothing. The second line is monosyllablic... like say, "Stop!" he guesture "The next line is one as well. So it would go 'Stop! Stop!' And then two lines: STop! Stop! Stop it! Just stop it! Stop that funky rock beat. Drop the bass, feel the heat and go." he continues a few lines rythmically. Then a pause "I find I run out of breath too fast when I get up to twelve syllables though."

Vaughn nods slightly. "That's kind of cool. Possibly a little too much work for me..." He grins slightly. Without really glancing down at the guitar he moves from one song to the next. Continuing with his mood of "freedom rock" he starts playing California Dreamin'. "So that what you do? Like math stuff... I heard you talking to Ruth about math."

"Oh, that's just a hobby. I collect textbooks and work out the formulas for exercise, as well as tinker with physics. Really though I like paleontology. I am ahh, currently unemployed." he guestures "I try painting but it doesnt catch my attention often."

Once again, a blank look falls on Vaughn. "Paleontology?" He cocks his head, "Now what is that? I'm just a dumb kid, I don't speak rocket scientist."

"... Dinosaur hunting." remarks the man, after a long, stunned silence. "Paleontology is the study of creatures from before our time. Evolution, all that."

"Oh yeah... " Vaughn smirks slightly. "So there a lot of opportunities for hunting dinosaurs?" He grins up at Ambrose, "And I do know that you don't actually hunt dinosaurs... but I'd think that you'd be doing that kind of stuff somewhere other than oh, New York. Don't really think about fossils here."

"Not really right now, no. " he admits "I havent finished my schooling for it. Final year. Had to take a break. And you'd be surprised. " he remarks "Although not on Manhattan island. Its' always been too wet to form fossils. They rotted too fast."

Vaughn nods. "Oh, so you're or were going to school here... okay, guess that makes sense." As the song comes to an end, "Got any requests? If I have heard it, I can probably play it."

"No in California. I moved here recently." he shifted uneasily, not wanting to speak of it. Ambrose then thinks about that, and asks "Do you know Dust in the Wind?" Ambrose says, "What about yourself? Do you just strip half naked and play guitar?"

The teenager starts playing Kansas's mellow ballad, as he grins. "No, I also delivery for a Chinese restaurant." He adds in, "I do that completely clothed." He starts singing along softly, "I close my eyes.. only for a moment.. then the moments gone.... all my dreams... pass before my eyes of curiosity..." He has a softer tenor voice, but it suits the song quite well.

Ambrose falls silent as he tilts his head and listens. The phrase of music soothing the savage beast may actually be partially true as he nods his head to the music "... VERY well done." he murmers.

Vaughn smiles, with a genuinely pleased look. It's not from the praise, but from man's obvious appreciation of the music itself.

Ambrose hums a little as wel,l then breaks off and chuckles "Should I hold out a lighter? " he grinned.

Vaughn chuckles and shakes his head, "Nah... pretty much no one uses actual lighters anymore... Now it's the lighter app on their iphones." The smile turns into a grin, "Lighters are like so twentieth century."

Ambrose blnks at this "... Yes, but can Iphones set things on fire?" he asked, suddenly grinning almost maniacally.

Vaughn chuckles. "I think that might be the point." He starts playing Stairway to Heaven. "So what do you do if you're currently unemployed and not chasing down the elusive free roaming dinosaur?"

"I get drunk. No, really." he remarks "I get drunk, I do math, I creep out young preadult girls."

Vaughn pauses slightly. The pause in the music is only about two beats, before he picks it back up. "Alrighty then... "

Ambrose wells "That and I confuse musicians with adding mathematics to bad musical genres." he adds with a shrug.

Vaughn smirks, "You add mathematics to country music too?" He lets out a deep breath, "You know.. there's this guy I heard about ... You might want to look him up in the library.... You know if you get off on math and like art... I think his name was Piero del Francesco... he was all about math and geomotry" as if they are two seperate things, "and perspective and art..." Actually, his name is Piero della Francesca, and he was a fifteenth century Italian artist. "I think you might find it interestin', seein' that you're all smart and stuff."

"I havent' tried yet." he confesses. "And yes, I know that gentleman. Plus Leonardo and the others." he continues "But it is 'della', not del. But minor difference really." explains Ambrose "What I like to read about is Darwin, and what he got wrong."

As the last song comes to its end, Vaughn does not just start another. Instead he sits back slightly against the tree, looking up at Ambrose. "And for the record... I really wouldn't call myself much of a musician, and it's not like it really takes much to confuse me, so I don't think I'd count towards any quota you might have for the week." The teenager grins, "Well, it was nice talking with you, Amby, but I really didn't mean to distract you from your painting..."

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