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Sunday, March 16, 2008

Hello no love.

He didn’t know why he was even there in the first place.

Maybe it was the fact that there weren’t double doors, or maybe it was the fact that everyone there was too busy smoking and reading poetry- he didn’t want to be there. That’s what he kept telling himself.

He held his guitar- old and scratched- in his musician hands. He recited the words in his head. There was no way in any way that he would be getting anything tonight.

Recognition was something that came and went when you weren’t looking. Recognition came and went when you least wanted it to be there. It always caught you off guard and slapped you in the face. You were always unprepared.

So he sat there, watching as a girl recited from a crumbled napkin. She talked about how she wasn’t appreciated. How her mother’s words really did hurt her. She talked about her feelings. There was no way he could ever compete with that.

So he continued to sit, wondering why it was he decided to sign up for Friday night open mic night. The winner had a fifty dollar prize, and a free latte. He hated coffee, but he really did need the money.

“Hey man,” said a particularly skinny guy as he sat down next to him. “Nice guitar.”

“Thanks.”

“Where’d you get it.”

“At the pawn shop across from here.”

“Oh cool.”

“Yeah.”

“So what are you going to sing?”

“Something.”

“Something like what? The Beatles? You wrote it yourself?”

“Sure.”

He could already feel the nerves kicking in. This guy with his beret and all black clothing wasn’t helping him. He looked down at his own clothes; an orange shirt that read TROPICANA and regular jeans.

“So are you interested in one night stands?’

“No.”

“Okay.” The beret homo walked away.

So now I know I attract my own gender, he thought, just great.

And he continued to sit, doubting himself. He held his guitar- his beaten up guitar- in his musician hands, and pretty soon he was up on the “stage” and staring at a group of people who had nothing better to do.

“Hi,” he said. “I need fifty bucks.”

At least he got a few laughs, right? Ha ha ha.

I miss you now. I guess like I should have missed you then. My body moves like curtains waving in and out of wind, in and out of windows”

He didn’t forget the lyrics! Excellent, now he had to beat up Wayne Brady.

I can't untangle what I feel and what would matter most, I can't close an eye, can't close an eyelid

Now there's no point in reaching out for me. In the dark, I'm just no good at giving relief. In the dark, it won't be easy to find relief

And I'm not proud that nothing will seem easy about me. But I promise this, I won't go my whole life telling you I don't need. I'll tell you now, I guess like I should have told you then. That thunder moves like damn drawers slamming in my frame. Slamming in my framework

He didn’t know why he wanted to be here. He didn’t know why he even bother to walk through these doors. He just knew that this would be a significant part of his life. This was the part when he wouldn't be the same. This was the part when he wasn't person B anymore.

I can't untangle what I feel and what would matter most, I can't close an eye, can't close an eyelid

He wasn’t a singer. He only mouthed the words. Yet for some reason- at this moment in time- sound was pouring out of his mouth in various melodies. No one was laughing either. In fact they just stared at him in what he hoped was Awe. It looked like Awe.

For once, he wasn’t the person he was. No, he was someone else completely. He liked this new person. He was waving hello to this person. He was helping this new person in. He was saying goodbye to his old self. He didn’t want that old self to come back. He wanted new person to stay.

Now there's just no point in reaching out for you

He knew new person was going to stay.

That’s just how the ending works.

Saturday, March 1, 2008

Sell Outs: The Latest fashion.

So I couldn't post this on my other blog, since dear old Digital Delay has already done so in posting the best article ever (well, maybe not best, but it was really good). He always seems to take the topics I want to do, haha.

Well anyway, todays subject; selling out.
what does it mean?
Is it changing what a band does creatively, based on money?
Changing their sound?
Going On MTV?
Becoming less accessible?

If anything, I believe in the last one. But why hate?
Yeah, your favorite band changed the way they sounded, but doesn't that mean they've changed?
Up until recently I always thought Selling Out was what everyone else thought; MTV appearance.

But then I realized, that with great talent, comes great responsibility. (Jacked that from Spiderman.)
If your favorite band is as good as you think they are, isn't it inevitable that fame would be at their front door knocking? So what if they're dating Ashlee Simpson or whatever, it just means that they're happy, which of course will affect their music/sound.

It's kind of hard to write happy songs when you're sad, and it goes the same way vice-versa. Songs can't be forced out, they have to be inspired.

So, I'm interested in what anyone else has to say about the subject of Selling Out and why MTV is related to it. Do you agree or disagree? Who do you think is selling out?

what goes around, comes around;
Karma Police

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

If You Read Acquired Minds...

I need topics to write about, and it'd be marvelous to read about what YOU guys want to read about.

What's on your mind? What do you find interesting? Do you want advice? Anything?

Just leave a comment, and before you know it, I'll be off typing about it!

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

hellodarlings

if you find me here, please go read what I kindly post on here.
I'm mainly putting this up for my own good.
I have ideas.