Don't talk to me in your normal voice, not on a night like this. Whisper low. Make the crickets the obvious winners in a loud sound match. Be so quiet, that I mistake it for silence. I want to have an excuse to lean in and break the boundaries of your personal space. Please, let me make it our space. Because, when I catch your words, I'm sure they are going to have me seeing stars and the only thing that will guide me back to Earth is your crescent moon grin. So talk low and slow. Pull me into your gravity.

A song without a drumbeat is a story without words - possible but unlikely. Let your friend enjoy his aspiration. Is he willing to do gigs? Even the birthday bashes? Is that that the price of his passion? Would he be alright with doing just birthday bashes, forever?

Let him dwell on that thought. If it is, being a drummer might be great.