Nowhere Man

A Daria fanfic by E.A. Smith

The sky was already turning pink in the east as MystikSpiral stumbled out the back door - the musician's door - of the club,instruments in hand, their feet barely leaving the ground as they trudgedforward. Trent and Jessie carriedtheir guitars, while Max hauled his drumkit behind them on a cart, which lookedto be the only thing holding him upright. Nick was walking beside him, bass in hand, while the two discussed theirmutual performances that night in voices low from fatigue but no lessvitriolic. Trent did his best notto notice, not to think about what they were saying, or what it meant.  The Tank was waiting for them; Trenthauled open the back door and they tossed in their guitars, then helped Max breakdown and store the drums. No wordswere exchanged save what were necessary. When they were finished, Jessie and Max headed inside the van, but Nickstopped Trent before he could make it to the driver's seat.

"Listen, man," he started in a no-nonsense tone, "I'veenjoyed being part of the band and all, but I don't know how much longer I canstand to play with a drummer who couldn't keep a steady rhythm with apacemaker."

"Hey, dude," Trent replied; he'd known this conversation wascoming for some time now, and he'd been dreading it. "It's just Max, man. He does okay. He works forour sound."

"He sucks!" Nick replied. "He's holding us back. How are we supposed to get any decent gigs if our drummer can't hold usall together? And I really need somegood-paying jobs soon. I've got adaughter to support, y'know. She'sstarting kindergarten and I can't even afford to pay for her school supplies.  If we don't start making some realmoney soon, the kind we talked about making when we first started out, then I'mgoing to have to find something better."

Trent winced. He knew that ultimatum; ironically enough, Max had given him a similarone not too long before. He didn'thave a kid, but he had bills, and couldn't take much more of Nick's nagging either.  Trent wondered if Max could hear themthrough the Tank's metal walls.

"We're making progress," Trent told him.  "Look at us; we're over a hundred milesfrom Lawndale right now. Wordabout the Spiral is getting out. It won't be too long before some record exec hears about us and wants tosign the next big thing."

"Next big thing?" Nick said incredulously.  "We don't sound like N'Sync orCreed. I don't think any recordcompany is going to want us. Trent, I think I'll be leaving the band soon. I'll stay until we've played all the dates we have lined upright now, and if I can, I'll stick around until you can find a new bassist,but after that I'm gone. I justcan't live on your dreams anymore." Nick turned, walked around the side of the van, and got in.  Trent hopped into the driver's seat.

Inside, Jessie and Max were already dozing in the back,Jessie against the wall, Max leaning on his bass drum.  Nick took a quick seat, as far awayfrom Max as he could get, and quickly drifted off. Trent was virtually alone as he cranked up the ancient vanand, with a belch of black smoke behind them, set off along the vacant highwayinto the rising sun.

He turned on the radio, but all he could find were countrystations, which he loathed, and oldies stations, which he loathed but a littleless. Since he hated driving incomplete silence, he left the tuner on the oldies station, volume just highenough so that he could notice the sound, but could ignore what he was actuallyhearing. The mumbled sounds blendedwell with the dawn-lit, barren landscape passing by the windows.

Trent had known for a long time that this day was coming;Nick and Max had never gotten along, and things had just gotten worse as timehad progressed but the band had not. The big dreams they had had as kids putting together their first realband, listening to Nirvana and thinking that they too could make it to thatlevel, had never materialized. They had never progressed beyond playing local clubs, and though he hadtold Nick that this gig meant the start of something big for them, he knew itwasn't true. It had just been anact of desperation on the part of the bar's owner when his regular band hadcancelled at the last minute and the Spiral was the only band who could makeit. Which in itself waspathetic. Now Nick was leaving,and probably Max as well, soon enough. Then it would just be Jessie and him, and Trent didn't know what theywould do then.

Janey's going off to college soon, too.  She thinks she needs it to be anartist. But that's not for me,man. I've got to be free to followmy own muse. But how free was he, when he couldn't get to where he wantedto go? What if he really did endup playing covers in some sad bar band for the rest of his life? Daria, the smartest person he had everknown, had once told him that it took guts to pursue a dream, and that at leastfor right now he was doing exactly what he wanted to do. But that's not how I want toend up. I won't be doing exactlywhat I want to do then. Trent couldn't see any life, anyfuture, ahead of him without music, but music didn't seem to be giving him thelife and the future that he wanted. How am I supposed to say something to the world if the worldisn't listening?

Perfect three-part harmonies suddenly emanated from thespeakers, a sound head and shoulders better than they sappy Fabian song theyhad been playing a moment before. Trent soaked it in, both the music and the lyrics.

He's a real nowhere man

Sitting in his nowhere land

Making all his nowhere plans

For nobody

Is that what I am, a nowhere man? Trent thought as the chiming guitars entered andtook the song to a new level, blending beautifully with John, Paul, andGeorge's voices. What ifI really am in a nowhere land, making nowhere plans? Is that where I'm going to end up? Helooked back at the three guys sleeping behind him, their faces in repose,emptied of the worries that troubled him. They didn't look lost; atleast, no more than normal. Butthen, Nick was moving on, and probably so was Max, and Jessie didn't reallyhave a destination to begin with. He wasn't making his plans for them, but he wasn't sure any more if hisplans were any good for himself. So maybe his plans really were for nobody.

Doesn't have a point of view

Knows not where he's going to

Isn't he a bit like you and me?

Yep, a bit like me. I'm like this road. I keepon driving and driving down it, but it doesn't look any different.  I know where I'm going on this road,but where will I go after that? Janey had already suggested he movewith her to Boston, start up a band there. But he wouldn't be any better there, and while the Spiralwas the big cheese in Lawndale, because there really wasn't hardly anyone else,he'd be nothing in Boston. MaybeI should go anyway. ForJaney. She needs me. But heknew he was just fooling himself there. She didn't need him anymore, hadn't needed him for years.  That couldn't be his road any longer.

Nowhere man, please listen

You don't know what you're missing

Nowhere man, the world is at your command.

Maybe that was it. The world was at his command. All he had to do was take it. He could join the wandering Lanes, visit faraway spots where he couldreinvent his music, come back the sage traveler and impart his wisdom insong. As the guitar solocrescendoed, his mood followed suit; he knew what he would do.  He would shake the dust of this littletown off his feet and see the world, leave all these little people, all theones with the lack of vision, behind. He could see himself sitting on mountaintops, discussing deep thoughtswith Buddhist monks, or on the road with gypsies, learning their wildsongs. What kept him here anymore?

He's as blind as he can be

Just sees what he wants to see

Nowhere man, can you see me at all?

Except that the whole reason he wasn't a wandering Lane isbecause that lifestyle didn't appeal to him at all. He liked his comforts, sleeping whenever he wanted in hisnice warm bed, and then out playing music at all hours of the night, maybeslipping in a joint here and there. He had enjoyed that life, and even if things were changing, he didn'twant the life his family had chosen. As the lyrics repeated and then faded out, Trent found himself rightback where he had started; the life he had known for so long was ending, but hewasn't sure what there was to replace it.

The sun was above the horizon now, and though it was stillpretty red, Trent squinted when he had to look directly at it.  It obscured his view, confused hiseyes; he could see the road right ahead of him, but no further.  The Tank rattled on, his hands steadyat the helm, towards Lawndale and the next morning, and the mornings afterthat.

Legal Blather: Daria and all associated characters arethe property of MTV. "Nowhere Man"was written by John Lennon and Paul McCartney, and is copywrited1965, NorthernSongs Inc. The story is my own.