#As somebody who listens to metal music mainly THIS SONG FUCKS

[spacenintendogs]

Okay okay

Here's a question you probably can answer lol

What songs are the gang listening to on repeat in your modern au :)

ksxjsodkwkkd i have had a post abt their music tastes sitting in my drafts for months so i will just share that!! my own music is kind of limited bc i just listen to the same stuff over & over (bc neurodivergent™️) so!! my apolocheese for this not being as super in depth for some of the gang vs others. i am also open to suggestions ;_; a couple of these were from me talking with a pal, mainly astrid & fishlegs (@despiteherself hiiiii!!!!)

hiccup: lots of indie stuff, leaning more towards indie folk!! he likes anything rlly with strings involved. he's a dragonboy horsegirl at heart & wants to imagine riding through the air with winds blowing through his hair & wistfully wishing he could have a different life. he does listen to indie pop, too. he liked glass animals before they were popular & wants everyone to know it. also loves woodkid.

astrid: she has 5 songs she listens to & they were just songs ppl recommended to her. she only goes out of her way to listen to music if she's at the gym & doesn't want to talk to anyone (if snotlout is there it does not work </3) tuffnut told her "you should listen to mac miller" & she picked a single song & just made it a song she listens to. every single other song she's ever heard is inflicted upon her when she's in the car, at work, etc & her friends have their stuff. she's content with that

fishlegs: everything & anything u could possibly think of. it's all put together on one giant playlist. u will hear 1940s jazz followed by georgian chants followed by sam smith followed by power metal followed by edm & it just keeps going. knows the words to every song he ever hears. any genre, any language!! collects vinyl, tapes, cds, YOU NAME IT!!! very passionate abt music!!!!!!

snotlout: 2000s & 2010s pop & edm, duchess by fergie is one of his fave albums ever. loves lady gaga. everything else is dad rock. 80s thrash metal, nu metal, & 90s grunge, mostly. he wants to be cool so so bad, he wants to be a rockstar. learns to play guitar & is annoying abt it (can shred p well tho). is the reason everyone in the friend group has at least ONE slipknot song on their individual playlists

ruffnut: grunge, hip hop, rap, & house music. lots of in this moment & garbage. big kendrick lamar fan. lots of late 80s to early 00s for rap & hip hop. she likes to groove & vibe, occasionally headbang. i think she'd love mary j blige too. i think she, outside of everything listed, has a soft spot for p!nk & listens to her when she's having a hard time (her & snotlout sometimes listen together). i think she'd also enjoy billie holiday on a quiet day & no one is around. (she is not embarrassed by it ay all, she just likes having things for herself)

tuffnut: grunge, 70s soft rock, hip hop, & rap!!! lots of overlap with ruff but obv there's also a lot of differences!! the 70s soft rock is the main outlier. he enjoys cruising around & being wistful as he listens to america, doobie brothers, seals & croft, etc. he puts pop country on his playlists as a joke but it ends up stuck in everyone's heads & smth they all jam to to have fun.

there is a massive group playlist (fishlegs is the one who puts it together but will add a song if suggested) & it is a cacophony of so much shit. they all have their tastes but by the time they're adults they all know each other's songs & sing/jam along & have a fucking blast, esp in the car or at the sanctuary. the playlist is always on shuffle & there is the chance for a rickroll. always

songs that tend to get repeated by the group are psychosocial (slipknot), custer (slipknot), anything by pitbull, fire water burn (bloodhound gang), bbc (jaboukie), anything by woodkid, somebody i used to know (gotye), & anything by they might be giants & other assorted meme songs they love torturing each other with. (they are the most obnoxious group alive)

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #395

“suicide? i’ve already died  /  it’s just the funeral i’ve been waiting for”

Have you ever met a famous political figure? No. Have you slept for longer than usual today? Ugh, no. I officially have my APAP mask for my sleep apnea, and I chose the one that covers my nose and mouth considering it varies which I breathe from when I sleep depending on congestion. It is very hard to get used to. When is the last time that you experienced rejection–literal or imagined? Hm. Is there an artist or celebrity whom you admire for their craft but take issue with their personality or politics? Yeah, such as Marilyn Manson. He's a pretty gross person but by god do I love his music. What’s the last thing you made out of clay? An anatomically correct heart. Do you like bacon bits on your salad? Yes. What do you do to celebrate Earth Day? Nothing. :/ I wish I could think of something to do for it. Have you ever had someone try to intentionally bully you to suicide? Bro what the actual fuck. No. Who are your favorite kids that you’ve babysat? My nephew Ryder. Would you feel funny if you kissed somebody of the same sex? I've kissed a girl and it felt pretty great, so. Name three things in your room that others probably don’t have in theirs: 1.) a snake; 2.) a huge meerkat collection; and 3.) an APAP machine. Besides furniture, what’s the biggest thing in your bedroom? My snake, I think. Describe your feet: Ugh, the worst. My feet are horribly callused from when I used to walk all the time. I have small toes. What’s a pretty bird? Peacocks. Besides sleeping, what do you do in bed? Just about everything. .-. How do you like your hoodies? Loose/oversized. Can grills be sexy on a guy? They're hideous, if you want my honest opinion. Have you ever been in a Catholic confessional? Yes. How fucked up are those, honestly... I really hate the concept of teaching children that they have to tell some random guy things they feel bad about and let him ask God to forgive you or else you're going to Hell. What color was the hair of the last person you kissed? Brown. Can you do a backflip? No. Where are the last three places you went? The TMS office, a gas station, and my sister's house. Do you consider yourself a flirt? No. How old is the oldest person you’ve dated? I actually don't know, but at least close to 30 now for sure. I just know we were both in high school, but he failed I think two years. What’s something that makes you feel more creative? Music. Who has the best personality on YouTube? Guess who, lmao. Which YouTuber seems uber-confident? Mark is a very confident person. I envy 'im for that. What is the funniest YouTube video you have ever seen? I watch YouTube like... constantly, so I've seen thousands upon thousands by now. I really don't know. Have you ever been inside a Victorian mansion? No, but that's like a dream marriage venue for me. What was the most boring field trip you ever want on? I don't think I ever had a boring one. Man, I miss those. Do you enjoy watching videos of babies being born? NO FUCKING THANK YOU. Does ANYBODY? Are you a hoarder? No. If you were rich, what things would you get done cosmetically? I would say liposuction, but I honestly want to lose the weight myself. If/when I lose the weight I want to, I am 110% getting loose skin removal at LEAST on my stomach because I feel hideous with it. Also if I achieve my weight loss goals, I want to get a breast lift. Weight loss-related things aside, I'm pretty serious about getting laser hair removal on my legs because I HATE shaving and my legs are VERY hairy, and the hair is dark, so I'm extremely self-conscious about it. Are you the type of person who asks a lot of questions? It depends on who I'm asking. With some people, I'm afraid to look stupid if I ask too many. How many states have you visited in your lifetime? If you're excluding the ones I've merely driven through as well as lived in (which is only one), I've visited Ohio, New York, Florida, Virginia, Tennessee, and Illinois, so six. I MAY have been to Michigan as a baby, but I don't remember. What is your biggest fear for the future? Ending up homeless after Mom passes. I'm scared my family will give up on me, which is completely unrealistic, but I'm terrified of living on the streets. Do you like seafood, or not so much? I only like shrimp. Have you ever cried from being so nervous? Oh, certainly. What is your favorite book series, if you have one? Hm... of all series I've ever read, probably the Shiloh trilogy. I adored the books and the movies. Have you ever had a parasite before? NO NO NO NO NO, DON'T MAKE ME IMAGINE THIS. I am PETRIFIED of parasites. Do you have a big heart when it comes to animals? Absolutely! Have you ever put your pets in a kennel for a while? I actually don't remember? It's possible when we've gone on an extended vacation, but I'm unsure. Whenever we've gone somewhere, friends have normally taken care of our animals. Where is your favorite place to buy clothing? Hot Topic or Rebel's Market. Do you enjoy listening to older music? I love classic rock and metal. What do you think is the most stupid song out there right now? "WAP" for fucking sure. I haven't even heard the whole thing, and I don't EVER want to. As a child, did you ever want to become a mermaid? Nah. Ariel was my favorite princess, but I wasn't obsessed with mermaids or anything. Can you compose sentences in any other language than your own? Some German, yes. Mainly just the basics. Have you ever met someone who was really racist before? Yes, many. -_- Do you have any celebrity autographs? No. If you could be a Disney character for a day, who would you be? Maybe Kiara from TLK. What is your favorite color of clothing to wear? Black. Did you ever build furniture forts as a child? Oh yeah, lots of times! I sometimes even pretended they were burrows and I was a meerkat, ha ha. What kind of dog is your favorite? I have a beagle bias. Do you prefer water or land? Land. Have you ever had a seizure? No. Do you plan on losing weight any time soon? Hunny, I've been trying to since 2016. -_- I lost like 70-ish pounds through 2017-2018, but recently I've gained almost like... all the weight back and it is upsetting beyond words. Have you ever been in a heated pool? Uh, a hot tub? Yes. Are you looking forward to anything? Getting Venus' terrarium, finishing TMS so I can maybe get a job, visiting Sara again... What was your GPA in high school? Over 4.0. Do you require a lot of private time? OH yes. What do you plan on doing with the rest of your life? I hope achieving a sense of accomplishment and becoming content with my hopeful career, marrying a fantastic partner, and having a family of lovely pets. If you have a favorite television show, who’s your favorite character? I'll go through the very few I deeply enjoy: 1.) Mozart in Meerkat Manor; 2.) probably Hyde from That '70s Show; 3.) perhaps Envy from Fullmetal Alchemist; 4.) Jerome from Ginga Densetsu Weed; and 5.) Shiro from Deadman Wonderland. Did you use to watch Blue's Clues? OH yes. I loved that show as a kid. Do you stutter when you get nervous? BADLY. Your lunch consisted of...? What DID I have... uhhh OH leftover pizza. What is your favorite kind of chips? Hot, crunchy Cheetos. What is the best way to tell someone that they stink? I wouldn't. Do you have any embarrassing usernames? Some from the past, yeah. Do you have a backpack in a shape of an animal? No. I found a meerkat one once, but it was way too small for me to use in school. :( I was so disappointed. Have you ever waxed your legs? No. I've waxed my upper lip and eyebrows, but especially with how long and thick my leg hair is, I think waxing there would be excruciating, so no thanks. Do you own any shirts with a peace symbol on it? No, but I would if it had a cool design. Have you ever taught a little kid to flick people off? No, and I wouldn't. Children generally don't have a strong enough grasp on when profanity is appropriate and not. Have you ever itched yourself until your skin was raw? This is VERY common. Like right now, my right arm is the Sahara with how dry and raw it is. Do you always clear your history after using the computer? Nah, got no reason to. Have you ever eaten a Big Mac? No, because I know I wouldn't like it; I don't like lettuce on my burgers. Do you feel like you’re judged for your looks? For my weight, yes. Name one world issue that upsets you. Just one? Poverty is high on the list. Just... no one should have to live like that. Do you like Wendy’s frosties? After they thaw a little bit, oh yeah. It's physically impossible to drink them for a good few minutes because they're so damn thick.

[tricksheart]

Ask my muse extremely personal questions. Does he ever regret becoming a Phantom Thief?

Akira takes a deep breath and thinks about the question. It’s a question that he’s been trying to mull over for several months. But thinking about this is exactly how he actually became a phantom thief. There was the self doubt about saving the woman from Shido. It was those ‘what ifs’ that made him fail to recognize the virus app installed on his phone. Being lost in thought is what guided him to Kamoshida’s palace by mistake, along with Ryuji. Maybe if he wasn’t such a scatterbrain or a hot-headed hero wannabe then none of this would had happen.

But if there wasn’t the opportunity for him, Akira wouldn’t have met Ryuji, Morgana ( even if the damn cat wouldn’t let him stay up past 9 in the evening), and everyone else ( even Goro Akechi to an extent ). He wouldn’t have the strength of bonds or even true friendship. Or find that special someone since he quickly accepted the fact that no one could return his feelings of love. Akira felt the feeling of being swallowed up by the universe, not finding a purpose in life. There’s also the creeping fact that he could had easily ended up on the wrong path and actually have his life ruined beyond repair or redemption. Akira was at one point spiraling out of control with hidden anger and disgust on how society had become so warped. Not being able to do anything. Powerlessness. Despair. The cold hard TRUTH of reality. Many things plagued his mind.That no matter what you do, you can’t help or save them.

Ironically, to him, becoming a phantom thief helped save HIM, him of all people. Did becoming a thief hurt him? Sure it did and it still does. Doing the right thing all the time doesn’t always mean that you still can avoid making huge mistakes and get hated for it. After all, no good deed goes unpunished. Sometimes you got to take risks. If you don’t then nothing will change because you fail to do something about it. Akira had his answer. Deep down he knew becoming a phantom thief was the right choice.

“I’ve had time to think this through and my answer is this. Without a doubt, no. I do not regret becoming a phantom thief”.  

Hobbies

Even before being forcibly relocated to Tokyo, Akira has always been a video game type of person. Not that he didn’t do any types of sports in Sumaru City but it was more comfortable just to chill in his room playing an adventure game ( Legend of Link ) or any type of genre the games had to offer. Ironically, the mystery games were one area Akira didn’t spend too much time into. Sometimes he wishes that he spent more involvement with those ones but that’s in the past.

Actually, it’s the racing games that he’s played that saves him when asked to drive the Morgana bus. But he gets backlashed by his friends for admitting this. Ann downright says ‘seriously’ followed by ‘I guess it’s better than nothing’. Which hurts him a lot because to Akira, those racing games are hella realistic. You can even die or dive off a cliff if you aren’t watching what you are doing. It’s like a simulator or practice for the real thing. He’s better at driving than Makoto who drives like a crazy person or a mom trying to get to fast food place in a hurry for her kids.

Akira also likes stealth/rhythm games that tests your patience. This is a double edge sword because he tends to become impatient as the time moves along. This can be seen while in the dungeons when a shadow takes a long ass time going down the hallway. That majority of all danger situations comes from is Akira’s lack of patience. Those games he plays that make him quite impulsive sometimes.

Music

Akira has a wide range of music taste. Mainly because he doesn’t like to be tied down to just one genre. There are a few that test his patience; like SCREAMO ( Akira wants to at least understand what the words are actually saying. He hates gibberish with a passion) and Opera ( because in his mind, only super high intelligent bad guys have Opera playing at their house/lair ).

He listens to music that moves him on that part of the day. If he’s in a low mood, he listens to some alternative rock or pop ( society teases him because most of these are labeled as being ‘emo’). If he feels calm, he picks a more low-key beat and chorus. Of course, if he’s in Joker mode, he tends to pick songs that are a little more cocky/assertive. Everything involves his mood as he’s very emotional on the inside despite his loner-cat outside.

Akira’s really fond of parody songs. Not only does he think they are very creative and funny but he’s seen how much effort has been put into the lyrics and music videos. That people sat down and put a lot of love and sarcasm into making light of another song. The wanted people to smile and laugh at something so ridiculous that they forgot to be sad, even for a split second. That being said, he’s a big fan of American parody singer/video maker Weird Al. It’s thanks to him that he’s even able to speak a few words in English. 

Assuming Akira doesn’t hang out with somebody or go to Mementos, what is his usual routine when he gets home from school?

THIS WILL HAVE A LOT TO DO WITH MY OWN GAME-PLAY, JUST A FAIR WARNING.

Usually in the afternoon, Akira visits either two places, instead of wandering around aimlessly as he did when he first moved to Tokyo. The arcade because the boy sure does loves the vidya gaimes and button mashing. He’s quite good at the rhythm games like ‘Finished Diva Bland’ ( Project Diva Tone ) and of course the shooter game the ‘King’ taught him how to play. And Akira likes and enjoys being there. Sure it’s noisy but no one really gives him a second look while being focused on playing games. Their eyes are more prone to not give him dirty looks, unlike school where it’s undeniably crushing. He feels safe here.

Akira also goes to the batting cages. Not as frequent as the arcade because using the facility costs more than the games and he’s really frugal on money because of the things he has to purchase for palace and dungeon explorations. Hitting the targets with a metal bat oddly feel quite calming, unlike when Akira’s in the palaces when he’s cutting demons up with his knife. Maybe the loud ‘kawack’ sound when he hits the baseball is so aesthetically pleasing that he stops being so wound up all the time. It’s the case even when in battles that he has to constantly remind himself to calm down. That he’s on edge. Seeing the progress he has made when all five targets are hit really feels satisfying. Plus, the one baseball that goes through the metal roof and into the day’s sky is really hilarious to him. Although, Akira has to apologize profusely when that happens. He doesn’t know his own strength at times.

At night before returning to Leblanc, he visits the local bathhouse down the road. Soaking in the tub is really relaxing for him and once again, he really doesn’t get a lot of looks. Of course, there’s his small tattoo located just in the inside of his hip that gives him a little trouble because tattoos are still frowned upon in Japan, especially the older generation which frequent the bathhouse a lot. But Akira usually just goes look for an opportunity to make sure no one really sees it. Being discreet about it is key. He usually doesn’t stay in the tub too long but the rainy days that he visits makes him more rebellious than on non-rainy days. This results in him either getting his ass kicked from the intense steam and dehydration or him getting really refreshed looking from all of the good minerals found in the water. The boy does need to keep up his handsome features. His debonair charm max stat came from spending a lot of days here. Even though the real objective has been completed, he still can breathe deeply and melt all the stress away. Plus, Morgana actually compliments him and worries that he might catch a cold. Much better than being told to ‘go the fuck to sleep mr. krabs’ any day.  

💗 HAS MY MUSE EVER BEEN IN LOVE?

Going to say no before the whole incident with getting arrested. But a lot of things have changed for Akira during his time spent in the city. After that cutscene with Ann, there’s been a lot of incidents that suggest he going through being in love. I think in the past, Akira didn’t see the point of being in love. Probably thought the idea was stupid as hell. He has been called ‘that punk’ by Sojiro so I can base his attitude on subjects based on that alone. It’s really escalated by the time he meets Haru, being in love that is. The line he shouted during the school festival wasn’t just something he said without meaning behind it. He feels like he’s always loved her even though he only met her a few weeks prior in the Hawaii trip. 

💯 WHAT IS MY MUSE’S IDEAL DATE?

Inviting them to a heist. lol. His ideal date would probably be where is significant other wants to go. If they want to go to a library, away he goes. He’s not picky with the location. It’s the bonds and memories that are more important to him. If the other person is having fun and really enjoying themselves, well, that’s all he really needs. Akira’s pretty adaptable to situations.

❤: does my muse consider themselves a romantic?          

Akira’s emotional range is quite wide so answering that question, is a big yes. But that part of him is kept locked up very well. He’s seen what anger and passion to do the right thing has done to his life so he keeps everything under lock and key. But you can see his emotions fly through the roof when Akira first sees the plane fly over towards Hawaii.

How he’s swept up by intense emotion. You can see in the eyes how much romanticism there is. There’s times where he’s glad that people interrupt him during these moments. To put the mask back on that they will never know just how he feels with overwhelming situations.  

[sevenclowds]

Frank Weekend

My account of going to see Frank Iero and the Patience play at the Baltimore Soundstage in Maryland, Sat Apr 22 2017.

My companions for the weekend are my 19 yr old and my friend's 16 yr old daughter. Both their names begin with C and will henceforth be known collectively as C&C. My teen was forced to listen introduced to MCR from the age of 7 and obviously has great musical taste. My friend's teen is a huge fan of the Emo Trinity, but is not familiar with Frank's non-MCR work. "Is Frank the drummer for MCR?" she asks innocently. Oh dear. We gotta lotta educating to do this weekend. Someone needs to save this poor child.

[Very long post. You probably want to put the kettle on for this.]

We leave North Carolina at 8am and make our first stop at 10am at a Starbucks. It is here that I purchase a fateful cup of coffee that will keep me buzzed for the next 19 hrs. Just how strong is Starbucks Pike Place Roast? And what on earth possessed me, a caffeine lightweight, to get a grande instead of a tall? It'll help me keep awake while driving, I thought. Someone punch me.

I treat C&C to my music on the drive. My iTunes music library appears to be like my blog: 95% MCR with the occasional snippet of something random. We make sure to play plenty of Frank, for educational purposes. C&C are huge Hamilton nerds and we listen to the soundtrack as we near DC. As we pass the capital city, I point out that Washington is now literally on our side. Groan. #momjokes

We arrive at our hotel in Baltimore around 4pm, then go out around 5pm. We walk past The Soundstage and there are lots of people lined up waiting to get in. I'm so happy to see several Frank fans wearing the same Death Spells hoodie as me and as we walk past I feel really fucking cool! These are my people! My tribe! They will see my DS merch and know that I am one of them! Whereas last week, walking round Harris Teeter, I felt vaguely conspicuous in my black hoodie with the scorpion on the back, but now, I fit in. I am home. If I didn't have C&C with me I would be lining up there with them. But I have to feed my teens and not leave them to stand outside in the rain, so I sigh, and head toward Shake Shack for some food that we'll loosely call "dinner", like a grown up.

After eating some fries, we head to a spiffy steampunky Barnes & Noble where C&C, both devoted book nerds, are in heaven and bond further over their love of fiction. I'm itching to get to the venue but it's still raining and cold and they're having so much fun that we don't head over there until about 7.30pm.

VIP Ticket Fiasco Two months previously, when buying the tickets online, I wasn't quite fast enough to get the VIP tickets and I sat at my computer spitting curses and venom at those who managed to buy them in 0.2 milliseconds flat. The VIP experience included a private acoustic session before the show, a copy of Parachutes, and a seat in the posh table-and-chairs bit near the side of the stage. But alas, it wasn't to be so I made do with the regular tickets.

So, as we enter the venue, we're informed that we can upgrade to the posh section for an extra $10 each. C&C look thrilled at this idea, and my kid has issues with being in crowds and had been intending to stand quietly near the back, so this is a fantastic opportunity to get a great view without the crush. I relent and upgrade, even though I'm crying inside because I know we've missed out on the private session earlier and I just want to die. Fuck me, I get to sit at a table like somebody's mom. Kill me now. My plan is to stay with C&C for a couple of songs and then venture out into the crowd, but that damn parental mode kicks in and I feel guilty about leaving them so I stay. But actually, the view is really great, even though the atmosphere in the VIP area is nonexistent.

Dave Hause and the Mermaid open the show with some so-so rock stuff. Perfectly fine and competent band to fill the time, although nothing too exciting until the last song, dedicated to Trump, and called Dirty Fucker, causes the crowd to go wild.

Then Frank Iero and his Beardy Wondergroup come out, launch into World Destroyer, and time ceases to exist. It's the first time I've seen Frank since 2007 when he wore his Black Parade jacket (sniff) so I'm very emotional and I'm grinning the whole time. I realize I don't know as many lyrics as I'd like to, on account of Frank lyrics being hard to learn without serious study, which I haven't had time for. I do my best and probably sing a pile of nonsense for the most part. He tells us that today is the first time he's showered in 5 days. Why so gross? He tells us a story about how bad the crime is in Baltimore, which makes everyone nervous about getting home tonight.

I take some great photos

And some not so great photos

After the show, we head to the pizza place next to the venue to kill time until the band hopefully come out. We huddle in the corner by the door and eat pizza. I can't really taste it. Maybe it's because it's gluten free and vegan, maybe it's because I'm really not quite in my body. I realize I'm shaking and figure it's still The Coffee I had earlier plus added adrenaline and fatigue.

I message Kyle @casesandcapitals to come meet us in the pizza place because I know he's here somewhere and we've never met before. Next thing I know, Jen @jen--ne--sais--quoi and Kyle are walking in and I realize three fundamental truths at the exact same time: 

1. Jen has intimidating make-up skills 

2. Kyle IS recognizable without the 5ft tall metal flamingo

3. These people are way too cool for me

I am a little excitable and extra when meeting them and their friends Abbi @grewuponyourbackporch and Cole, but mainly because Jen's jacket is all kinds of awesome.

My new friends eat pizza and go outside to wait again but it's too cold for us so we stay in the restaurant. I feel really sick, I'm still shaking and I feel like crap. In my fevered state I manage to post the same pic to Facebook twice and cannot for the life of me get anyone's name right in the above photo that I post to tumblr. My brain has gone. I'm a mess. I'm not really in my body and I wonder if they'll put "death by frank" as my cause of death.

We go to join everyone outside at about 1.30am because those band members aren't going to meet themselves and we don't want to miss it. It's fucking freezing! You can tell the direction that everyone has traveled to the show by how many blankets they're shivering under. Southerners are suffering and northerners don't give a shit because they're tough as nails. My kid discovers their Hamilton hoodie isn't at all warm but I'm not going to give them my hoodie because I need to meet Frank in my Death Spells hoodie because I'm shallow and a really bad parent. I actually choose to let a child freeze because I want Frank to know I'm a fan and not just someone's mom. Priorities, people!

Evan and Alex keep appearing and disappearing again. They mill around and meet folks, clearly enjoying themselves or at least faking it really well. Me and C&C go stand in the parking garage entrance for a bit because it's possibly 5 degrees warmer than outside. It's 2.20am. C&C want to give it until 2.30 before we leave. It's clear by now that Frank isn't going to come out. But he ALWAYS comes out. I'm faced with the reality of having to leave without meeting him and I'm distraught. I comfort C&C because I feel bad for making them wait all this time but they end up comforting and hugging me. They tell me to wait until 3am and to come speak to Evan because he's being adorable and there's hardly anyone left so we'll have him to ourselves. And so we do, and he's just the loveliest, sweetest man and he fixates on the fact that me and the kiddo are British, haha! We tell him we drove 8 hrs today and he should come to North Carolina. He agrees and says he loves Chapel Hill so maybe that'll happen some day (yeah right). He imparts wisdom on doing what you love and not being obsessed with grades because they won't matter once you leave school. He starts talking to someone else and just as we're thinking of leaving, there's a tap on my shoulder and someone behind me yells, "Oh! Nando's!" It's Evan again, wanting to tell me about his favorite British experience - a restaurant that serves the best chicken. He's so enthusiastic as we discuss Nando's menu, particularly the veggie options and the bean burger. Hilarious! He's my new favorite person without a doubt.

It's 3am and we leave, jogging back to the hotel (because Frank's made us nervous about Baltimore). We get to the room and I get into bed in my clothes because it's too cold to consider taking anything off. My body is still buzzing (can it STILL be The Coffee from this morning or is it shivering?). I get maybe 1-2 hrs sleep because my mind insists on composing Hamilton/FIATP hybrid songs and some of them are actually quite good so I stay up and listen to the inside of my head.

Next day we drive back to NC. It takes 7.5 hrs. I force C&C to listen to the entire Death Spells album and even a little bit of Leathermouth just because I know it's what Jen would have wanted 💜

[wellmeaningshutin]

Short Story #91: Late Bloomer.

Written: 4/9/2017                                                                            Music Week Song Listened to Before Writing: LCD Soundsystem - Us V Them

When Deborah was young, her mother, a former soap opera actress who spent most of her time drinking wine in the den and stewing in anger over being killed off and out of work, wold tell Deborah that she was “too ugly to be worth anyone’s time” or that she was “too ugly to even play an unattractive person on television, and the only way [she] could get an acting job would be to take part in an art house horror movie”. Deborah never wanted to act, mainly since she hated her mother and wanted to be as different as possible, but her mother was constantly suspicious of her, paranoid that her little girl would become a bigger star than she had been if she tried, a blow to her ego that she would be unable to handle. The girl never knew that this was the reason her mother was so cruel to her, but if she knew it probably wouldn’t make things better, the words would still cut deep. Although, its possible she wouldn’t have believed that she was so unbearably unattractive, its possible that she would have pursued an acting career, just to spite her mother, but instead her self esteem was as low as could be, and she mostly tried to hide away during the years of adolescence, spending school breaks locked up in bathroom stalls, making sure to sit in the back of every class, always suspicious of boys who would show an interest in her, spending most of her free time at home, under her blankets, wishing that she was dead.

She wasn’t unattractive, but she wasn’t attractive either, it was as if she was just as middle of the road as somebody could look, completely inoffensive, safe. Some guys would think of her as “somebody you would only try to hook up with when you were drunk, but who you also wouldn’t regret in the morning”. These neutral looks, that were difficult to form an actual opinion on, was a reason why it was so easy for her to believe her mother, since she wasn’t pretty enough to call bullshit. Her looks were also a reason that her neighbor, from several houses down, a young man named Arty, was secretly in love with her. Now, Arty was definitely attractive enough to be considered out of Deborah’s league, and he was very likable and social, but he had a performance issue with attractive girls, who seemed to throw themselves at him, because they put too much pressure on him. Arty had to wait until puberty struck to become attractive, but he was never able to grow out of his unattractive mindset, making attractive girls almost threatening to him, he couldn’t understand that they were attracted to him as much as he was attracted to them, so he felt a need to have to do better than normal, and would always stress himself out to the point where he was flaccid and crying about how it was too much for him. Deborah, on the other hand, seemed to be no such challenge for him, and seemed likely to be pressure free.

Maternal insults clouded the girl’s judgment, so even as she stared at the neighbor boy through her second story bedroom window, willing to do anything to be with him, she never realized that he had felt the same way about her. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he tried to talk to her, or make excuses for them to hang out, one on one, she would never fully listen, and would instead hear her own mother’s words. During their senior year, he literally told her, “Hey, some girls have been strongly hinting that they want me to ask them to prom, but I wanted to see if you would like to go with me instead. I know I’ve been pestering you a lot about going on dates, but I just wanted to make sure that I asked one last time, the old college try as my old man calls it. If you say no, I guess I’ll take the hint and leave you alone.”

Instead, she heard, “Look, I feel bad that you had to be born looking like the doctor accidentally stepped on your face when you slid out of your mother, so I wanted to ask you to prom as charity. Don’t expect anything real to come out of this, because you’ll mostly be my date in title alone. And, right when we arrive at the dance, I’m going to abandon you to hangout with my real friends, since I’m really just using you so that I can feel good about myself. You don’t think you can compare to the girls I get, right? I hope you wouldn’t be so insane to actually think that you would have a chance with me, because I swear that would be something I would have nightmares about if I ever thought of you, but I only remembered that you existed, right now, because I just happened to bump into you. I don’t even know your fucking name. If somebody asked me, ‘Hey, do you know blah blah blah?’ I would ask who the hell they’re talking about, and then I’d say that they were probably some worthless, fucked up looking person, because that name made me throw up in my mouth alone. When I heard that name, I- hey, don’t fucking look me in the eyes, that’s only going to make me fucking angry. Now where I before you made me want to put your face in a lawn mower, just so it would be easier to look at. Oh yeah, when I would hear the name, I bet I would smell something awful, like an egg salad sandwich that was left in a hot, metal shed for an entire Summer. Now get out of my way before I do us all a favor and push you into traffic.” A lot of that interpretation came hours, even days, after they talked, mostly existing in her imagination, because it seemed like she must have been crazy to think that he might actually had been interested in her, and she had to try to set the record straight.

Years later, when she and the guy were both in college, Deborah had, in a fit of intense depression, decided to drink half a bottle of gin and drive her car into a tree, in an attempt to kill herself. It seemed to her that so many people at her school were happy, were exploring their social lives, finding themselves, and she just felt like she was ruining everyone’s fun, she felt as if she was a dysfunctional human, broken inside and out, and that it would be better for her to die already, just so nobody would have to deal with her bullshit. However, the crash hadn’t killed her, she was too drunk to realize when the impact happened, was just limp enough to survive the impact, even if the shattered gin bottle (that was in her hand) and a protruding tree branch had mangled her face beyond recognition. When she was first told about this she was worried that it was going to cause her to become more deformed than ever, requiring her to actually have to hide her face whenever she would dare to go outside, but when the plastic surgeons had done their part, and the bandages came off, she was shocked to learn that she looked outrageously beautiful.

For the first couple days she wondered if she had died during one of the procedures, wondered if this was heaven instead of real life, but then she figured that if heaven was real, then there would have to be a god, and no god would be cruel enough to give her the face that she had known for a majority of her life.

When Deborah was finally out of the hospital, where she spent her recovery time staring in a mirror and making faces at herself, she decided that the first thing she would have to do would be to rub her new looks in on her mother, who didn’t bother to visit the girl since the suicide attempt. When she arrived at her childhood home, she found her mother drunk, unable to even get up from the living room couch, watching old episodes of the show she used to be on, watching the younger version of herself that had been unfairly exiled (the reason the gave her, which was the real reason, was that she was a terrible person to be around, and it seemed like she was going out of her way to put down and anger the entire cast, crew, producers, and even some of the fans, making her impossible to work with, but she just believed that one of her female co-stars was sleeping with a producer, and just wanted to get the mother out of the way, so that she could steal her spot on the show). After noticing the girl who was standing over her, the mother only asked, “Who the hell are you?”

“Its me, your daughter.”

“Bullshit.”

“Remember that accident I got in, the one that you never cared about. Remember when I was in the hospital for months and you never once visited me? Well, I have a new face, I’m still your daughter.”

Deborah knew exactly what she had wanted her mother to say, which would have been something along the lines of, “Wow, you are so beautiful now. I am so glad to have such a stunning daughter, and now I will give you all of the love that I was unable to give before. Today will be the first day of a real mother daughter relationship, and I’m deeply sorry that I never visited you in the hospital, I just was worried that I would have to see your fucked up face once again. Can you forgive me for the way I treated you? Even though it was only natural for me to have been rough on you, because of your unfortunate appearance, I would understand if you could not forgive me for it.”

This is what her mother actually said, “You look twice as worse as before. Now move to the side, you’re blocking the television.”

Finally, Deborah had realized that her mother was just a hateful person, and that the woman would call her hideous, no matter what. Then she had to make sure, and went into her old room to look at some old photographs, the few that she actually kept, believing that she didn’t deserve to be photographed, and, for the first time, she hadn’t seen an ugly girl, she only saw an average girl. When something broke inside of her, and her temper began to swell, she couldn’t tell what had upset her, and it was either the fact that her mother had been abusive, had lied to her for her entire life, putting in so much effort to make her life miserable, or the fact that she was stupid enough to believe any of the lies (her opinion), stupid enough to be willing to believe that she was much, much worse than she actually was. In the heat of the moment, the source of the rage wasn’t the most important issue, the rage itself was, and she could only think about how she wanted to make the woman suffer, so she kicked her door open, and flew down the stairs to do something permanent and awful.

However, after the newly gorgeous girl had gone upstairs, her mother believed that she would have no chance to become a star again (she clung to denial in the same way she clung to her bottle), that her daughter was going to become such an impressive star, that no matter what the mother did, she would always be in her daughter’s shadow. Instead of being her own person, she would only be Deborah’s mother, thats all people would call her, not even using her first name. Things were starting to seem, for the woman, like it was all apart of some ghastly nightmare, this had been her greatest fear, her worst case scenario, and it had finally come true. So, no longer wanting to live in this fucked up world, not wanting to have to stand next to her stunning daughter, looking like a shriveled up crone in comparison, not wanting to have to see her daughter bask in the sunlight, she decided that it was time to take the hard-way-out (what her father, who shot himself in the head, would call suicide, believing that it took a lot of effort to actively take your own life, while the easy-way-out was just waiting for death to come on its own). So, when Deborah had reached the bottom of the stairs, and re-entered the living room, wanting to break something, she had found her mother on the floor, near the couch, with a knife in her hand, and an open throat that was drooling blood and staining the tan carpet.

Taking this as a final insult, Deborah decided to just kick her mother for a while, hoping that she would get some satisfaction out of it, but the woman was practically dead, causing it to be as satisfying as kicking a table or a fridge, instead of kicking the woman who had screwed with her head for so many years. That night, Deborah had cried from anger for the first time in her life.

A morning shower turned out to be all she needed to clear her head, and figure out what she had to do to get revenge on the woman. It was a two step plan, which included leaving the corpse to rot in the house for weeks, maybe even months, until somebody would find it based off of the smell, to make the horrible woman’s death seem pathetic in the extent that anyone who heard of it would think, “What an awful way to die, unloved, uncared for, nobody even missing your company, except for the bugs that eat you inside and out. I would never want to be as depressing as that, I never want to be like her.” The second part involved her finally seducing her old high school flame, Arty, and getting him to marry her, so that she could have a happy and fulfilling life, something the bitch never would have wanted her to have in the first place. Before she left to carry out the second part of the plan, she decided to wrap her mother’s body in blankets and some air fresheners she found around the house, just to buy some time before the body was found.

Finding Arty turned out to be surprisingly easy, he was visiting his parent’s home since it was Spring Break, mainly to hide away from all of the party scenes and attractive girls that would stress him out. When she knocked on the door to the house, Arty was also the first person to answer the door, but he didn’t recognize her. “I’m sorry, who are you?” he asked.

“We used to go to school together, I just lived a couple houses down. My name is Deborah.”

“Oh yeah,” surprised and disappointed, “I remember you. You sure have grown or whatever.” There had been plenty of occasions where he had thought of her when he was in college, but now that he saw the new her, all of his interest had dissipated, she was just another girl who he couldn’t handle, another girl who would put him at risk of high blood pressure and self hatred.

“So, I was wondering, are you, uh, single?” Suddenly, she realized that she had no idea how flirting was supposed to work, “Do you want to, like, I’m single too, if you get what I’m trying to say. And I was wondering if we, well if you’re single, if we could be single together somewhere else? Like, two single people, out eating dinner or, like watching a movie,” bringing her hands into the mix, but having no idea what to do with them, “and we could like combine our single energies, and eventually we could you know, like, make a date?” Arty was confused, but he was too sweaty and nervous to be able to respond to this beautiful train wreck. “Like, we put our, we could make a date, you know? You and me? We could…” Uncomfortable since he hadn’t interrupted her, which she desperately wanted, but also was unsure if this was a part of the dating process or not, “We could put our hands together, hold hands, and.. Do you like my face?” No response. “Do you like my new face? I like your face, I would like it if you liked my face, and we could, uh, we could put our good faces together and make a kiss? We could enjoy the comforts of rubbing our faces against each other-” Then, after being scared out of his mind, Arty worked up enough courage to slam the door in her face.

It was the first time she had attempted anything like that, and it was the first time she actually had to handle rejection. Sure, she dealt with it in her mind before, but she mainly never actually tried, just so she could avoid the real feeling, which she then realized felt way worse than she imagined it to feel. It was unbearable, especially since she couldn’t understand why, wasn’t she irresistible now?

Spending the rest of the day at her house, ignoring her dead mother, standing around in her bedroom, posing in her closet that had mirrors on its doors, she tried to find just a single flaw in her new appearance, but it seemed that if she put herself in the most unflattering position she could think of, she was still stunning. In fact, she had a hard time looking away from herself, it was as if she was beginning to become addicted to her own appearance, not wanting to look away to answer the door, to use the bathroom, to get something to eat or drink, just taking in the view of her beauty. The more she loved herself, the less she understood why her old crush had treated her in that cruel manner, why he treated her just like… And then she started to understand, as she stared into her own eyes, that no matter what he would have rejected her, that he was no better than her rotten, rotting mother. With that realization, her anger had come back, stronger than ever, but she was conflicted. Should she give him the treatment that she desperately wanted to give her mother, or did she still want to be with him, and find a way to convince him to love her, since she still loved him? It was a tough decision, and never once was she able to realize that she had actually rejected him often years ago, or that personality might have been playing a key role in the situation (it wasn’t), that he could have simply been gay, or generally just unable to be attracted to her (he wasn’t), or that, which was the most important of all, it didn’t matter how much confidence she had in herself, or how strongly she loved him, because in the end it was his call to chose who he wanted to date, and even though he was rude about it, he had given her his answer and she would have to respect it, move on, and find somebody who wants to be with her.

Deborah decided that she should probably both take out her anger on him, and then force him to love her, killing two birds with one stone.

One of the reasons she was disconnected from the way relationships work, other than her self-isolation and the low self worth caused by her mother, was the fact that she had made sure to stay away from anything romance related, whether it was romantic movies, books, shows, songs, or even anything that dealt with dating or relationships in general, since she believed that it would only make her feel terrible on the inside, because it would expose her to something she could never have, would allow her to know what she was missing out on.

For hours she watched his house from her bedroom window, clutching her mother’s tazer (used for self defense) in her right hand, waiting for any sign of Arty leaving the house. Around eight at night he finally went out of the garage door and threw away a trash bag, then decided to wait outside to smoke a cigarette, and before he had even smoked half of it down, the gate into the backyard swung open, a figure moved towards him, he felt a sharp pain, dropped to the ground, and wasn’t in control of his body, which decided that it wanted to shake and twitch, no matter how often he told it not to. At some point he pissed himself, which embarrassed him. Somebody was dragging him, but he couldn’t react until he was a couple houses away from his own, tried to get up, and his attacker, the now-gorgeous girl from down the street, told him, “If you try to run I’m going to zap your dick.” The electrical sounds emitting from the tazer convinced him that she wasn’t fucking around, so he let her march him into her house, which smelt overwhelmingly of air fresheners. “Keep going, turn left, here we are.”

He couldn’t believe it. Right in front of him was a table set up for two, with candles and rose petals all over it. ‘What the fuck’ is what he wanted to say, but he opted for the more polite, “What the hell?”

“Its a date, sit down. You’re going to love dinner, we’re going to have a good time, trust me.”

Arty knew the whole situation was insane, so he decided to make a run for it, fuck the tazer, but he wasn’t quick enough, and all over again he had felt pain and dropped to the ground. “Why do you have to be such an asshole? You know I’m gorgeous, right? You know that I’m irresistible, so what’s your problem? Why are you going out of your way to ruin this night? Can’t you see how much effort I’m going through to make this work, can’t you see how much I am clearly in love with you? Why are you trying to resist so much, why can’t you just look into my face, my beautiful face, and allow yourself to just allow my looks to do their job, just let them wash over you, drown you, just let it happen. Let it happen you son of a bitch.”

He tried to get to his feet, but she now held up a hammer, right next to his face, “I will bash your god damned brains in if I can’t have you.” Then she brought it down on his left shoulder, dislodging it and causing him to cry out. “Now, get in that fucking chair, and I’m going to make you something nice.” Deciding to stop resisting, he shakily made his way to the table, hoping that there wasn’t much to it. “I’m going to have to tie your legs together, but you can understand why I would want to do that.” When she began to tie his legs, he looked down at her and became afraid, not of the situation, but afraid of the fact that the longer he stared at her, the more he was comfortable with what was happening. Well, he felt that way until she said, “And after dinner, we are going to watch a movie together, because thats what people do on dates. And after that, you are going to take my virginity, and if you refuse to do any of that, I’m going to slit your throat for being a hateful piece of shit.”

He knew that he was a dead man.

[dogjaws2]

the older i get: the more i find myself writing things about how i am getting older.. And The more I find myself saying things like, "the older I get, _____" like I've won my right to wax poetic about growing. Growth. The transition from one dimension of suffering, to another. Only in the beginning, it doesn't seem like suffering. I don't know. The older I get, the more I suffer. I just accept it now. And Parts of me still fight, but my brain is just like, "yo man that's just how it is going to be. Ok?. Ok." Accepting a reality that you don't agree with is hard. Its like your constantly hating the world and yet still choosing to live in it. The older I get, the more I realize I am just going to have to live through the shitty parts. there is a certain versatility to getting older though. where in, you stop caring so much about fitting into whatever fucking thing you were trying to fit into when you were young. Cool shit isn't really a priority anymore. Cool things become kind of like this bonus part of your life. Like oh hey wow that's really cool. Or at least that's how I feel. I feel like I used to be cool. Maybe that was an illusion. I feel like a loser now. And when I stumble into some cool shit I'm like oh dope I'm hip. What up. I don't know. I guess you become familiar with losing. Unless you're like a fucking jock or something. But You realize that the world can really fuck your shit up. It can take things from you, without asking. So you learn the hard way, that you gotta hold on to the good stuff.. even though sometimes the good stuff is slippery. Sometimes the good stuff doesn't want you to hold on to it. Where am I going with this. Fitting in. You don't put the effort into it like you used to. You're to busy to worry about fitting into some mould. Fuck the moulds man, the moulds are the devil. You want to be the cool guy with the leather jacket and cigarette, nah man that's a hollow fucking identity. With any luck, you start to develop a sort of moral integrity that acts as a compass in social situations. Should I stay and do cocaine all night with these 3 sketchy people? Or should I go home and sleep. Well lets do the math. What do I want out of life. What do I need to do tmrw. Who do I want to be? Morally speaking, is this a good idea? I don't know. The older I get, the more I realize that I have all these great ideas about how to help myself, but I never actually follow through on any of them. You know? Like I end up staying and doing the Cocaine with the 3 sketchy people. Because I cling to the fun side of things still and that's not always practical but its hard to have fun now in days and so when I have the option I'm like fuck ya. I don't know. The older I get the more I realize I don't follow through on things. Getting older has this versatility though, that's where I think I was beginning with this whole thing. Like listening to music for instance. I just have this crazy ability to listen to whatever the fuck I want, and not worry about what anybody else will think. its the effort that starts to slip, i think. i used to be stuck listening to certain genres like a sucker because i thought it had some affect on how others might view me. Seriously. Like I wanted to be perceived a certain way so I had to edit my life accordingly. I couldn't listen to country music because it would mean I'm not cool. Not that I want to listen to country music now but you know what I mean. I'll listen to anything now, because I don't feel like the music I listen to, reflects that much information about me. The only people that would judge me on my music tastes are assholes, and see then fuck those people anyways, right? And yet people are still sooo particular about their music. Like is tied into their ego. Like if you put on the wrong song, you're a loser. sometimes its like its tied into their ego. and i get that, you wanna be about your interests. You wanna seem metal or punk or- eventually you realize that there are things you need to hate, and things you dont. feelings are involuntary most of the time, but experience allows you to develop some sort of clarity in regards to when and where you want to feel stuff. at least thats what i pretend. And so I have stopped hating genres of music, because I feel like that's a waste of time. I know this guy who acts like he knows the best music. Only him. Like if you put on a song and he doesn't like it, he's like all snobby about it and its like. Fuck off. You're being an asshole. I used to be like that but man I have since then learned to appreciate a wide variety of music. I feel like the older I get, the more accepting I am of lots of things. And maybe that is because most of the things I didn't accept when I was young, I was taught not to accept. So somebody else was forming my opinion. I saw somebody else do something and I thought ok ya me too. But when you get older you start really taking stock in your individual tastes in things. You start investing in your own preferences, and its fine and fun to go your own way. When you are young, and you try to stray from the pack, people criticize you for it. I remember people saying to me, "oh you're just trying to be different" "oh Greg always has to be different" and its like, fuckin eh. I was trying to follow my own nose. I was trying to listen to myself instead of just doing what everyone else was doing but it's lonely sometimes. And that's why people always come back to their egos because they feel like it protects them from loneliness. They feel like it insulates them from being looked at as a weirdo. I invested so much time into my ego when I was a kid. Because that's what you think will help you get laid. But Its so liberating to just let go of all those expectations. I can put on spice girls in my truck and fucking blast it with the windows down and roll down the street and not even give a care. When did that happen and like how did that happen? Why was I so afraid when I was a kid. Is that just like part of it? Like you follow the group for survival, and then you realize you can survive on your own so you start celebrating that fact? anyways, i feel like i can listen to anything, freely now. and in part, that is also due to the fact that music is literally accessible from my pocket. it takes me about 34 seconds to find the song i want to listen to. and if i feel like looking for new music, there are limitless opportunities for me to discover new bands. But to be honest, half the time im just trying to remember all the songs that have slipped away from me. all the music i used to listen to, before mp3's were the norm. or at least, all the music that was on my computer, 6 computers ago. and if im not trying to trace those songs down, im looking up new songs, by those old bands. i feel like music should just stop for awhile so i can catch up on all the old stuff. it shouldnt even be an option that you can listen to a single song by itself. it should be the entire album or nothing.like a record. I should buy records. i have heard one song, by 3 million different bands. And I feel badly about that. Maybe the rest of their music is fantastic? But I'm so busy listening to 6 thousand other bands that I only have time for this one song. No that's not true actually I have tried to listen to some albums in full, and in realizing there is only one song i like, i develop a sort of hatred for the band. like, uh ok so i spent 30 mins on this shit and there's nothing catchy. This band sucks. Although I would never say that. okay so then i take back what i said about how you should have to listen to the full album. the fact that you can look up a single song and download it and sing along to it and show your friends and maybe even put it on in the car or at a party and dance to it, thats so cool. and so ya anything goes now. i was looking through the archives of old music blogs i used to visit, and found some 2006 shit and it brought me back man. 10 years ago. i found all these songs and bands that i listened to back then, but never really understood the lyrics to. But now when I listen to that music, with a better understanding of the world, it all sounds a little different. The same. But different, like I can extract more meaning from it or I can see the desperate parts more clearly. also, there was obviously this big high of nostalgia. because it reminded me of myself, back then. in 2006. i graduated in 2006 and life was so fucking different. and its fun to have an excuse to launch yourself back into those memories. some of those memories i never would have remembered had it not been for some of that music. the songs had latched onto the moments better than i had, you know? all of a sudden its like your watching this movie of yourself at 17 or 18, except its not a movie its just music but with that same amount of colour and motion. i can see my friends back then and my old house and i can feel the energy almost. i can feel where my head was at. like my brain is being put into an old shell of itself, but it expands and fits into it like a glove. like ice cubes freezing into a tray. and im there. i think everyone in the world has a love affair for the music from their youth. its got this really sad poetic glow to it, that you can only see when your looking at it from where you are now. there is a song somewhere that has lyrics about something like that "how you can only see the magic password when your looking at it backwards, or through a rear view mirror" or something like that i dont know. and i like that idea in itself, too. i like that idea of reflection. mainly because im at an age where it still feels fun, and not forced. im 28 so its kind of a stretch for me to sit there in a rocking chair and recall my teenage years. i see older people talk about when they where young and its depressing because they are so fucking far away from those days. its literally been a lifetime since they've done some of the shit they talk about. my youngness doesn't feel out of reach. and maybe im delusional because you obviously cant travel back in time, but it still kinda feels like i can talk about it without people rolling their eyes at me. for the record, i do like hearing older people talk about their youth, i know i will get old too. and i dont mean to sound like a hypocrite but. now that i am older. ish. 28. i can listen to anything i want. and that same sort of freedom can be translated to other parts of my life as well. i can eat what i want. i can say what i want. both obviously have repercussions, but nobody will stop me. anything goes for me right now. i do have some financial limitations, and presently, some legal limitations, but nobody is telling me not to have chocolate cake for breakfast. nobody is telling me i can't talk about how trippy the human eye ball is. in fact, i've made it so that the people i spend most of my time with, accept most of the things i do and say. i've surrounded myself with friends that even encourage me. they support my ramblings. they think its cool that i eat chocolate cake. if they didnt think it was cool. i wouldnt hang out with them. Instead of vice versa. one thing i do care about still, is how i dress. it gives me great anxiety to get on the bus in a dirty shirt. i still have trouble finding pants that fit. i am self conscious about how i walk. i can't seem to stop worrying about my physical appearance. high school was way worse, but i just can't shake the feeling that people are paying attention to my outfits or my facial hair or my skinny elbows or my really skinny legs god do i hate my skinny fucking legs. And this is just me being honest. I fucking wish I didn't feel this way oh my god I wish I could just put on pants and a t shirt but nothing fucking fits properly. I see these people who walk into a store and grab the first shirt they see and it fits. I'm like woah how did you do that. Being tall and lanky is a fucking curse when it comes to clothing. maybe this is reflective of my own interest in others physicality. maybe it shows that i am still interested in what other people wear. if i can change my outward perspective, maybe i can change my inward perspective. im gonna work on that. it takes time to learn things about yourself. so much of your young life is spent just doing things because you want to. when you start to figure out why you want to do something. thats when things become complicated. then you develop this ability to feel guilty about your decisions. when you are young, you can avoid all that sort of emotional, moral, responsibility. but when you are older,ish, 28. you don't just see your face or your body in the mirror you see this whole entire life. you see everything its connected to, you see last night and you see the meeting you have tmrw morning and you see this fucking bill you really have to pay but you just cant afford it because you spent all your money on alcohol. again. I guess sometimes you can get away with a good hair day. sometimes you can be on some fucking weird trip that allows you to look in the mirror with confidence. and in those moments, its just a mirror. its just some shiny thing that lets you see how you look. maybe for that moment, you look how you want. sometimes you look in the mirror and you are content. but most of the time, you want something from yourself. when i think about the freedom i have now, vs the freedom i had when i was a kid, i stand on a fence. nobody tells me what to do anymore, but that is also kind of the scary part. i think that freedom to make your own decisions is much more important though, because that's where the individual begins. I miss having my dinner made for me and my food paid for but like i have way more options now. being young, i tried so hard to be this cool guy, that i wasn't even really myself. it was like i was creating a video game character. i was so into myself, that i could barely understand things that didn't somehow have to do with me. like a sunset. i saw it, but i wanted it to be about me somehow. i wanted someone to know i was seeing it or i had to be with someone to prove it was there, maybe? now i have found that i can experience moments in life, by myself and i can let them change me on their own. and that can be my interaction. that is enough on its own. But im not on some conquest to be lonely here either, thats not what im saying. even in moments with people, like the man at the store who i talk to for five minutes. i know ill never see him again and i know he cant do anything for me or my image or whatever, but i actually enjoy talking to him and learning about whatever the fuck it is hes saying. does that make sense? i dont need anything from it. i just enjoy the experience itself. there is that versatility again, like the music. i can listen to anything i want to right now and if someone was to look at me and say, "greg are you fucking listening to dmx," i would say fuck you man this music is what i want to listen to. and i would have conviction saying that. because i believe it. on that front, i have complete freedom. i feel like i can listen to anything. but my favourite thing to listen to, still seems to be, the music that i grew up with. Weird.