Long nights. Halloween was spectacular. The show went way better than I expected, with really good turn-out and such incredible energy. There’s this feeling of pent up joy that I get – I want to cry because the moment is perfect – and I have my friends and creatures and girlfriend and bandmates all rolled into the same room. Only a few faces were missing.
The high tension of sexuality pulsing through the room, the music, the chaos and the last minute panic. So What went off pretty well, with few people knowing the song well enough to see where I’d forgotten the words. Always my panic – that I won’t remember the words. I often fear that I am the weak spot in my own band. Weird, hey?
Such highs and such lows. Every time we come back from our wanderings, I’m amazed by how tight the band remains. I’m almost angry about it. The more time Heather and I spend together, the more our cohesion falls to bits, the more my relationships turn to shit, but the band itself plays better and better.
Maybe that’s the pain speaking? How cliche. I know I’m sort of a failure as a rockstar. I don’t drink – where’s the heroin and whores? But the mood swings are fast and furious now. More black and white than they’d been since college, and the peaks are coming fewer and further between.\
I’m reminded of my high school math teacher, who “held out” against anti-depressants till his late twenties – I had confided in him some time in twelfth grade – but he gave in. I’ve been told it’s a losing battle, and that at some point your choices narrow down to A or B, with B being medication.
Well, if nothing else, my health insurance won’t cover B, and we force an option C – music and art… will it keep me even SEMI sane? Who knows, but whereas Prozac won’t get covered by health insurance, I CAN claim strings as a tax deduction…Where was I? Oh yeah – what I MEANT to say, was that Halloween rocked! So What was this grand transformation. I got to scream DIE at an audience and mean it.
I think, I think I think… that I shall set this down and continue typing once I’ve had some sleep. This is NOT the mood in which I should continue typing…. oooh my watch and whiskers, good NIGHT!
Yeah, see, everything – so much better after having slept. NOW I can type about how fantastic the world is…
Halloween is Heather’s birthday, and when the Vault first invited us to do their Halloween party, there were all sorts of crazy events planned – it was going to be one Hell of a birthday party. So, as events disappeared, one by one – I got really discouraged… but it made us stand out. Halloween spirit was carried by ilyAIMY and our fans. An amazing time had by all. Crisp autumn air blew around tight skirts, under strange flapping wings, and kept us from spontaneous full band combustion.
— distraction, Heather is teaching about corsets. Oh God. Yeah – on Halloween night, there was a questionable moment when Heather dragged me into the women’s bathroom, and in the midst of the dragging, my hormonal rush was checked by “Do you have your knife?” The Alice costume was too tight, and I spent the next ten minutes cutting seams so she could breathe… (that’s so EVERYONE KNOWS why we went into the bathroom together!!)
Gosh, I really have to find a better way to do this damned Journal… sigh. [haha]
The Vault truly is one of the best places we play. The sound may be shit half the time, but the people are friendly, the owner is upfront and does his math in FRONT of you and even the security guys got into the spirit of things, with masks and stuff and they help you carry drums.
I don’t know, Life doesn’t get much better than an honest owner. Thanks Jack.
A lot of musicians don’t like the Vault – and I think it’s because there’s too much math. Most musicians AREN’T mathematicians… which is WHY most of us are starving.
I’m sitting in the sunroom, watching Caramia explore the world. She’s a beautiful kitten, running rampant, Living up to the legends of curiousity befitting such an animal. Climbing on tables, chewing on plants, shedding… she needs constant supervision lest she eat dice. She’s Heather’s instant joy. If I could make Heather smile like that kitten does – well, there’d be rings.
Last night we went to see the University of Maryland’s production of the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Heather, as a former member of the Satanic Mechanics, got us front row seats – and as usual, there was more eye candy than I could shake a… er… a stick at. Hrm.
Heathers are ALWAYS hot. (Caramia is nibbling my laptop).
Er, not being one to screw with the course that nature takes, I’ll leave the kitten’s additions to the journal. There, now she’s off to attack the floor or something, buying me some time to type sensibly again.
Anywho, despite all the eyecandy, Heather was STILL the hottest creature in the room.
Everything can go so well, there can be a perfect show, beautiful people, incredible friends, gatherings of greatness… and then some assholes had to egg, mayonaise, AND molasses Mitzi’s car. And then sat on their porch and laughed at her as she called the police and they told her that they wouldn’t be able to prove anything.
That’s almost as bad as the ass-raping we had to go through to deal with our fucking car radio – except there are people here…. people who you wish you could hurt.
Our society is in this stupid phase right now, where the law can’t cover everything, and common courtesy can’t be counted on. I wish vigilantism was part of my make-up… I get so angry, wishing we could go back and do damage. $150+ damage to her car and we have faces and addresses and … we should be able to do something about that.
Of course, having it up on my website ASSURES we can’t, now doesn’t it.
Just wishes, my friends, just wishes. Wishes for molotov cocktails and pain. It’s not the damage so much as the laughter. I hate being laughed at, and it’s been a huge part of my whole Life. Sticks and stones- but eggs deserve response ten fold.