#like kayla had this friend and when the three of us would hang out id be. A Menace as per usual

[xxplastic-cubexx]

I am also the youngest but I am the favorite (as the one who has never gone to prison it’s not hard lmao) and I feel Pietro vibes hard but I think it’s more of “being a little fucking gremlin” that gives youngest vibes to me.

Also say the word and I’ll fight your brother for you. You’re awesome and deserve good things.

yk in retrospect any time ive hung out with people and ive been A Little Shit and i tell them im the youngest in my family they always say 'i can tell' so i think youre onto something

[sunjaesol]

my sweet romantic teenage nights

juke | high school + diner au | title: scenes from an italian restaurant // billy joel

Magenta’s Palace was an artefact from the glorious American Dream; a fluorescent gem wrapped in that 60s architecture and old-fashioned uniforms. It was also the hang-out spot of most LF Arts students, right in the heart of Los Feliz and on most kids’ path.  

Luke used to roll his eyes at the place, thinking it was corny and certainly not the place a punk-rocker like him would go… until he tasted their gnarly waffles. And burgers. And milkshakes. His love for good food trumped his desire for street cred and ended up like the rest of his peers: a regular at MP.

Alex and Reggie never had qualms with it. The former was rather happy Luke got over himself and Reggie was simply pleased to spend more time with his friends. It became tradition to eat there every Friday after school. Sometimes they stayed until the early hours of the night talking, sometimes it was to fuel up before a gig.

Settling in their booth (theirs - Luke has made sure to carve the underside of the table with their names), Luke sighed contently. “Boys, this gig is gonna be fire.”

“I still don’t know how you convinced the guys at Raven’s Nest,” Alex mused, glancing around for a waitress in a candycane-coloured uniform.

Reggie nodded gravely. “Yeah, they’re scary.”

“Used my charm,” he smirked. “Dialled it up like I always do.”

The blonde snorted. “Sure.”

Luke’s face crashed. “Fine. I used our fake’s when he didn’t believe we were eighteen.”

His friends grinned, Alex snapping his fingers. “There it is.”

The chipper Nora glided towards them, slaloming between tables with her notebook. Alex’ remark didn’t bother him, crossing his arms with a shrug. “Does it matter? I got us in. They’re gonna love us. Nay! They’re gonna eat this set up!”

“You better be right - hi, Nora - cause it’s a bar for bikers. Real ass bikers,” Alex replied, shooting Nora a smile.

“Hello, boys,” she greeted, her signature red hair tied in a messy bun. Reg used to have a crush on her when they first visited, until they realised she was twenty-three and in a committed relationship with a guy from USC studying medicine. Yeah, he had no shot. Luke had to console him by buying five chocolate shakes and blasting Elvis Presley in the car.

Despite this, Reggie still had a soft spot for her, smiling kindly at the waitress. “Our usual, please.”

The notebook got tucked in her apron with a bright nod. “Coming right up!”

As Nora swiftly returned behind the glossy bartop, parlaying the order to the kitchen, the entrance opened. The bell above chimed, three girls appearing beneath it.

Oh, shit.

When Luke enrolled into LF Arts as a green fourteen year old, he had planned to only focus on music and nothing else. He’d blaze through his classes and become the best in music and then, with his obsessive nature at a peak, would launch the band into the next stratosphere. That was the plan. Music, music, music. (And food from Magenta’s.)

Fourteen year old Luke wasn’t aware girls like Julie Molina existed though. That changed on the first day. She came to the front of the class, blew everyone away with a Taylor Swift cover and shot a toothy smile when she finished - like it was nothing. Like she didn’t have the voice of the century. (Like she wouldn’t mess with Luke’s plans of becoming the best, damn it!) Though his initial reaction was envy, he quickly realised it was rather a disgruntled crush than actual dismay.

She was cute. Still cute. After every summer break, he expected her to be less pretty so that his nerves could calm down for once. Nope. Julie Molina was pretty as hell.

He has never seen her here on Friday’s. Why now? Why now when they were mentally preparing themselves for a gig that could get them their asses kicked if they didn’t perform well? Luke needed to focus! Not think about where she’d sit and what she’d talk about and what she was going to eat.

His eyes tracked as Julie, Flynn and Kayla were in busy conversation, barely aware of their surroundings. Her head rolled back in a laugh at something Flynn said, eyes shut in glee. Luke flushed red, averting his gaze to the scratched up table. His friends were snickering, Alex muttering a ‘Jesus…’ under his breath.

Luke snapped his arm. “Stop being a dick.”

“Why don’t you just ask her out?”, Reggie pondered, absentmindedly making origami with the thin napkins.

“I think he needs to talk to her first to do that,” Alex teased before Luke could respond, earning another glare.

It wasn’t like he and Julie never spoke. They were seniors, they had multiple classes together and spent many hours cooped in the same music classroom. He was even part of her group project in junior year! They’ve talked! But it never lead to anything, his lingering stares falling for her oblivious profile, her never once looking back at him.

The connection Luke always craved hasn’t been there, though he always felt like they could have that. Musical spirits were alike, right? At least his crush wasn’t as hopeless as Reggie’s on Nora.

The girls chose a booth right next to theirs, Julie in his direct line of sight. Alex was buzzing in his seat from stifled laughter, visibly trying to not turn his head and address them. The guitarist felt like dying, not even the steaming plates of burgers set in front of them enough to lift his mood.

Luke leaned forward, voice a hiss. “I can talk to her. I just… haven’t felt the need to.”

Reggie patted his shoulder sympathetically. “It’s okay, buddy. You don’t have to lie to us.”

Frustration began simmering his skin, the scowl deepening. He wasn’t lying! Maybe a little! He’s been waiting for the right time to approach her, say and do the right thing to sweep her off her feet like the fucking rockstar he was. Had he been preparing his lines since he was fourteen? Also maybe. They were being revised.

Alex often told him he shouldn’t put Julie on a pedestal. That she was just a girl. It made him wonder if he was the only one that first day of high school that felt it. That awestruck whooping in his chest from seeing her curls dance around her almond eyes and hear how each lyric was laced with a passionate smile. Even at fourteen was he aware of how special that was. Julie wasn’t just a girl. She was the coolest girl he’s ever met and he didn’t even know her that well. He couldn’t imagine actually becoming friends with her, uncovering all facets of her personality and not get overwhelmed by her Julie-ness.

Huh. His crush went deeper than he thought. Yikes.

At the end of the day, Luke could admit that he was simply a teenage boy nervous to talk to a girl. ‘Nervous’ was like a curse word to him though, that admission a secret he’d take with him to the grave.

“Eh,” Alex quipped, egging him on. “Luke’s a terrible liar. He doesn’t have to tell us for us to know it’s true.”    

His hands slammed down on the table, words spouting from his lips. “Girls! Can we get your napkin dispenser?!”

Fucking fantastic, Luke.

All three perked up in surprise, Flynn twisting in her booth to curl her nose and tilt her head. “Why?”

“It’s empty,” he bluffed.

Kayla craned her neck and instantly caught Reggie’s handiwork scattered across the table. “No, it’s not.”

Julie sat next to her, blinking in confusion. “Why do you need our napkins?”

Her smooth voice directed right at him caused a thrill up his spine, a grin involuntarily tugging on his lips. “Cause Reggie needs them for his crafts.” Playing along, the bassist lifted a janky frog with a wink. “I’m very dedicated.”

She matched Luke’s smile, amused. It was the most interaction he has had with her in months, the utter euphoria of it all bursting at the seams. Propelled by her smile, he slid out the booth and into Alex’ side, throwing his arms over the seat right next to Flynn’s head. The girl remained deeply unimpressed by him, gaze flicking past his physique. Damn. If he ever wanted to get anywhere with Julie, he had to get in Flynn’s good grazes. Kayla seemed chill though.

“What’s with the frown, Felicity?”, he joked.

Kayla giggled at the mention of Flynn’s actual name, the girl in question rolling her eyes. “All I’m wondering is why you have to bother us about napkins, Lukas.”

“Flynn,” Julie shook her head with an exasperated grin, “maybe wait for your strawberry shake? I think you’re being hangry.”

Her friend loosened up, sinking back in her seat with a playful pout and mumbling a resigned ‘fine.’

Luke took that as his sign to continue. His gaze fell back on Julie, hoping he wouldn’t sound too eager. “You guys come here a lot? I haven’t seen you here on Friday’s.”

“Who’re you asking?”, Julie asked, looking between her and Kayla. Oh, man. Small talk really wasn’t his forte. He couldn’t charm himself out of this one with music jargon or fake IDs.

His smile turned stressed, flailing his hand around. “Uh, all of you.”

“Sure,” Flynn snorted.

Alex slapped a hand on his mouth at her retort, almost in pain of not laughing his ass off. The prize of ‘Worst Friends Ever’ went to Luke’s - for fuck’s sake, couldn’t the drummer at least try and help him out?!

“Just wanted to celebrate Kayla’s good mark on her new song,” Julie continued, wilfully ignoring the other’s behaviour. Slinging an arm around her friend, she shot her a bright smile. “Her bridge was amazing, right?”  

All three boys nodded fervently as Kayla ducked her head bashfully, murmuring a ‘thank you’ and then relieved from all the attention when Nora walked up to them. Luke’s body didn’t twist to sit normally again, too invested in finally speaking to them, finally having that contact, that he didn’t even care if he seemed like a weirdo. Julie and him! Conversing!

“Speaking of music,” he casually uttered when Nora was off again. His signature smirk crawled on his lips. “We’re playing a gig tonight.”

This peaked Flynn’s interest. Perhaps the prospect of food made her more amicable. “Where?”

“Raven’s Nest,” Reggie proudly proclaimed.

Kayla frowned, worried. “Isn’t that the bar with all the bikes outside?”

“Thank you!”, Alex exclaimed with a sigh. “It’s insane!”

“It’s not,” Luke bit back. If Sunset Curve wanted to make it big, they had to play big! Gigs like these would get them on the stages they dreamed of. Soon, it was goodbye, Raven’s Nest and hello, The Orpheum! “Real Californians go there to hear real fucking music.”

To his surprise, Julie hummed in agreement. “My dad says it used to be where the subculture kids hung out before MP got cool.”

“Yes!” His grin was huge now, overflowing with joy. This was enough adrenaline to get him through three gigs at once! His finger pressed into the cracked leather. “Exactly! And we’re gonna slay it. You should come watch!”

The latter blurted out without wanting to, his eyes growing wide in panic as Reggie and Alex stilled in their seats and Flynn peered up at him with laser-focus. Shit. Was he telling on himself? Did she pierce through the charisma that this was just a poor attempt at flirting? God, he really should’ve prepared his speech for impulsive moments like these.

Luke still needed to endure some growing pains before he got good at flirting.

Julie chuckled, a hint of red appearing on her cheekbones. It enthralled him. Was she embarrassed or flattered? “Uh,” she bit her lip, “I don’t know if I can get in. Don’t you have to be eighteen?”

He raised his brow. “C’mon, you don’t have a fake?” At those words, Alex dropped his head on the table with a thud. Luke had enough of his own shit too. ‘Mortified’ didn’t even come close to how he felt about his blabbering mouth.  

Levelling his challenged look, however, he realised he wasn’t lost quite yet. Julie’s eyes glittered with mischief. “I do, actually.”

Breath caught in his throat. Yup. Coolest fucking girl in the universe. Julie Molina had a killer voice and a fake ID and probably did a whole lot of other dope stuff he hadn’t found out yet.

“Julie,” Flynn but in. “It’s a biker bar.”

“Where our classmates are playing,” she argued. “I can always try.”

“You’ll die.”

“I think I’ll be fine. Like Luke said-” No. She could not say his name and expect him to keep his cool. His fingers gripped the conjoined couch tighter. “-everyone’s there for the music.”

A careful smile slowly grew on Kayla. “We can tell your dad you’re with us.”

Flynn gaped at her. “We-?! I- okay.” Lifting her hands in surrender, she added: “Fine, we’ll tell Ray you’re at the movies with us.”

Wait, was Julie turning down a movie night with her friends to see him play? Did that mean something? Has he been so focused on trying to find or create a ‘vibe’ that he forgot to actually look for signs of her own? Damn. Now he really couldn’t screw this set up. Sunset Curve was gonna play until their hands bled, hopefully impressing her just a little bit.

It was settled then. After both groups had eaten, Julie separated from hers and joined them on their trek to Raven’s Nest. She was mostly talking to Reggie behind Alex and Luke, animatedly recounting a story about Carlos nearly crashing his drone in her keyboard. Jitters began to tingle his skin, that building excitement right before a gig mixing with Julie’s presence. It felt like one of his dreams materialised out of thin air.

How many times has he dreamt about catching her eye in the crowd as he crooned love songs he never dared to write? Granted, those dreams were centered in a hazier setting, Raven’s Nest quite unromantic opposed to that, but he would take what he got.

(And after, they’d worm their way through the masses of people, meeting halfway, and she’d sling her arms around his neck and he’d pull her into a kiss and it’d be electric. She’d kiss like she sang. It was a recurring dream that left him in a good mood for hours.)

Without much hesitance, the bouncer let Julie in. Luke, unable to keep his giddiness at bay, squeezed her shoulder as a dazzling beam was glued to his cheeks. Julie got in! Julie was going to see him play!

Raven’s Nest was expectedly filled with bearded, burly men. It reeked of beer and strong liquor, raucous chatter spilling from ever corner. They all probably looked like babies in comparison to these dudes, but he supposed his unfaltering confidence made up for it. Luke would get his boys (and Julie) through this. The stage was already prepared for them, amps and mics set up, Alex’ drums waiting in Reggie’s van behind the establishment.

“I’ve seen you play before, you know,” Julie mumbled beside him.

His heart soared without trying, its rate going a mile a minute as his jaw fell slack. All his nerves intensified till a blush crept on his cheeks. “You- you have?”

Her curious eyes flitted from the people to him, sheepish. “Yeah. At Ecliptica. You guys were good.”

A clammy hand raked the ends of his hair. Holy fucking shit. “You sounded like you never heard us before.”

“I didn’t want to seem like a fangirl, or something.” A secretive smile formed on her lips as she leaned into his side. “You know how school is. Everyone trying to be the best, but then act super casual about it?” Her eyes sparked in the yellow lighting, too close for him to think straight. “I didn’t want it to inflate you guys’ egos.”

Luke sputtered out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re doing it right now, Julie.”

“Then you better kill it,” she teased, nodding at Alex and Reggie hauling the drums onstage from the back door. “I think that’s your cue.”

There were two things he thought of right as he ascended the stage.

One, Julie was fat better at this whole back and forth than he was.

Two, he had to direct at least one song to her from their thirty minute set. Just one. Just so that his feelings might come across. Where words ended, music bled from his soul instead.

And so, the band exploded into what they knew best: burning the fucking house down.

So we’re taking the long way home 'Cause I don’t wanna be wasting my time alone I wanna get lost and drive forever with you Talking 'bout nothing, yeah, whatever, baby So we’re taking the long way home tonight We're taking the long way home

The giggly teenagers ended back in the diner after the incredible gig, shouting from the adrenaline and jostling arms to get points across. Even Julie joined in, much to his delight, tucked between him and the wall as she had a heated debate with an excited Reggie - harmonies versus basslines. Lemonades filled in condensed glasses gave them sticky fingers, hers once pushing his chin away when he told a particularly dumb joke and leaving an imprint. Luke was on fucking cloud nine.    

Taking the upper hand in the debate, Julie sang a bit of one of their songs (“Let's seize the day, let's run away, don't let the colours fade to grey!”) with all the tricks in the book, silencing Reggie just like that. Alex high fived Julie, the bassist admitting she won this time. Deeply relishing the sound of her singing voice, Luke barely caught what she was saying after.

“This time?”, she laughed. “There’s another time?”

“Why not?” Reggie wiggled his brows, unsubtle as hell when he shot Luke a wink. “Diner Friendship Memories Still To Be Made!”

Alex blinked. “What?”

Her eyes tracked past the boys, the smile turning more timid. It settled on Luke, the boy unable and unwilling to look away. He wanted this night to never end. Clasping her lemonade, she nodded firmly, as if signing Reggie’s silly Friendship Contract.

“Yeah… why not.”

Magenta’s Palace became Luke favourite place in the entire world. Every Friday, Julie joined the boys at their booth, sometimes Kayla and Flynn too. Huddled in those red leather seats with mountains of fries, they shared the first slivers of newfound friendship. Luke has always been very cautious about who he let in his circle (Sunset Curve against The World), but six people in a booth felt cosy rather than suffocating. Like it was always to be like this.

Reggie found an equally enthusiastic jazz lover in Kayla. Alex confided with Flynn that he followed her playlists on Spotify and was obsessed with her DJ skills.  

Luke and Julie created their own bubble without trying to.

It was weird. Maybe Alex was right and Luke did put her on a pedestal for so long. Julie was genuinely chill and easy to talk to, probably turned off by him before cause he had been acting like a blubbering idiot. Simply being himself was, surprisingly, more than enough for her. It lit a fire inside of him. Snarky banter about music that challenged him to keep up, overt flirting from him that kept her blushing, sudden ideas about lyrics that threw either for a loop. He wouldn’t admit it at first, but she made him a better songwriter.

Who knew his best songs would be found on stained paper napkins?  

One Friday night, long past midnight, the group stood outside as they bid each other a good weekend. Bathed in the pink glow of the LED lights, Luke felt it in his gut. He had to tell her. These past weeks his feelings had only grown tenfold, this incessant buzz rippling every atom of his body whenever she was close. Whenever she smiled, talked, sang. Stealing his beanie, eating his fries, sharing AirPods. Luke loved it all.  

It was a lot more than a simple crush.  

After Julie hugged Alex, Luke grabbed her into a tight hug. She instantly responded, wrapping her arms around his waist and burrowing herself in his red hoodie. His infatuated smile was hidden by her curls, so fucking happy he’d been impulsive enough to ask for a dispenser that day.

“Hey, Julie,” he whispered.

She looked up, eyes alight with an emotion that left his shivering. “Yeah?”

“Uh…” A smile trembled on his lips, unsure whether he wanted to drown in the pretty brown of her irises or continue talking. Now or never. “You wanna get breakfast tomorrow? With me?”

He didn’t have to live in the fear for long, a smile stretching across her cheeks as she shyly nodded. It was the first time he’d ever seen her this flustered, their hold on each other securing with quiet glee. Had he not been so mesmerised, the awestruck Luke would run a mile from the adrenaline rush.  

“Yeah,” she grinned, nose scrunched. “Sounds fun.”

They found themselves in the same spot the next day, the taste of syrupy pancakes melting with his as he kissed her on the parking lot of Magenta’s Palace. Julie’s lips curled into a smile and Luke figured there was no better feeling in the world then that.

(Yeah, he could get used to this.)

Saturday’s mornings had never been sweeter.  

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

@blush-and-books @willexx @bluefirewrites @unsaid-emily @ourstarscollided

[familyvisionis2020]

Day 2 - Knoxville

Somehow the post I made about Knoxville got deleted so this is me trying to remember some of it but this is deficient and I am mad and sad I lost that writing because it was good and heartfelt.

Before we went to bed in Asheville we heard birdsong in the trees at like 1am and I said ‘nightbirds?’ and Jeremy laughed a little. Jeremy and John and me remarked in the morning in Asheville how nice it would be live here. The cool mountain breeze was nice. We left the house we were staying at and headed into town. We went to the mechanic first to try to find out what the problem with the van was. The mechanic looked at it and explained it was our pittman arm and the steering box was shot which was causing the play, and that it could be repaired for about $280, and we confirmed with the van owner from whom we are borrowing the van that they would reimburse us for the repair, so we left the van with them, put on sunglasses, walked past the moog factory and down thes street to the Five Points diner. It was a greasy spoon where they served typical Denny’s fare plus a bonus section of greek and italian entrees in the back. I got a big omelet of spinach and feta, hash browns and grits. It felt so warm and full and substantial to eat those things. Later John would remark that “when your needs are met on tour, they’re met so much more intensely,’ which I agree with. Sleep is precious even thought it’s usually cramped and smelly and uncomfortable, the water bottle and coffee cup and meal feel like real ballast and fuel. I had said this more poetically before I lost the post but whatever. We eat our breakfast and then stroll around town for a bit, visit the bookstore Malaprops downtown where I see more muppet-looking people busking and spanging, flying signs, nodding out, sleeping on benches, the nexus of muppet and homeless is an unclear one for me and I try not to be too judgy.  We meet Kabir’s friend Alex Brown at Malaprops, Kabir buys a book called 1491 which is a precolonial history of the US I think, we walk down town past one plaza and to a park with a bandshell and a stage and a lawn cordoned off because two men are testing the sprinkler system. The soil near the bench where we sit is aerated and I confirm the squat columns of earth littering the ground are soil and not goose shit. We all four sit on a long bench and all cross our legs together and read each of our individual books in this way that was kind of comically synchronized, so much so that Kabir just bent over so we wouldnt look exactly the same. Me and John were on Ursula K Leguin and Kabir on Kingdom Cons by Yuri Herera, a novella, and Jeremy on Capitalist Realism on his kindle. A townie ambles by, he has a deeply asymmetrical hircut with a shock of purple dyed hair on a mostly shaved head, a loud Pittsburh steelers hat, a cane, and that familiar mix of affability and psychosis that seems to characterize a lot of home bums. He sees us all reading and remarks: “I like Shakespeare myself.” Mercifully, he walks on, goes to another group of tourists down the sidewalk and does something that’s not quite heckling and not quite visiting with them. 

We leave, the drive is short, we have had the steering box/pittman arm/linkage repaired and so the play is gone out of the steering but the wheel itself is permanently at 10 o clock and evidently it wants to drift left. Jeremy is driving and negotiating the misalignment expertly, we agree to find a place to get this fixed in Knoxville. On the drive we listen to Blue Smiley, The Durutti Column, Andy Shauf, Frank Zappa, Toro y Moi, Toshifumi Hinata, and best of all we listen to a track called “Style and City’ by Stand High Patrol, which is just an upbeat litany of naming music genres and then naming the city that genre originated, a genius idea, Jeremy said it came on in a club in Brooklyn and the crowd got incredibly loud and everybody loved it. This time around on tour rather than despairing at the poverty of my music knowledge as compared to the expansive encyclopedic aural erudity of the boys in the band, instead I just ask what song is on when I like a song and like it on my Spotify. The other day my friend was asking me where I find out about new music from and I said without thinking ‘I just borrow my music taste from my friends’ which like yes, of course I do. I had this issue for a long time like I must be the originator of my taste, that I must dig in the crates and find the rarest music that no one has ever heard of before, and that I must never be influenced by anyone. Which is dogshit egotism, I’m pleased and relaxed to learn that I can just ask and my bandmates will happily give me a track ID and not think twice of it, and I can take these new songs home with me to enjoy and share. 

We get into Knoxville and there’s a giant JFG sign that looks about a century old and a bizarre system of concrete staircases snaking and zigzagging and carved into a steep hill and I want to go visit them but we end up not visiting them. We get to the house we’re staying at, the people who live there are Royal and Kayla, ‘betrothed’ is how Royal describes his Kayla, they are married. Royal is an architect, exceedingly kind and jubilant and gregarious and gets close to you and involves you in jokes and has a laugh that comes so easy and his jaw kind of jerks in time with his jaw and palate when he laughs, the same sort of motion you see in an opera singer or like Mariah Carey when they are modulating vibrato on big belting sung notes. We hang at the house, Kabir breaks out his big thing of homemade chipotle hummus, we start to feast but Kayla brings out a homemade loaf of sourdough she has and then warms up four thick slices in the cast iron and puts a gentle golden crust on it and serves it to us with a big stick of butter on one of those covered narrow butter plates, and also she brings out sweet bell peppers and cuts them into sections we can dip into the hummus, and she pulls out the drum throne from royal’s kit for me to sit on. She’s a nurse, she’s southern in this special way that treats hospitality like breathing, makes it not hard to accept kindnesses and graces. She gets up after eating to work on her pottery, she has a throwing wheel outside in the garage area and she has lined their stone retaining wall with cups and pots she’s made, I learn later that the plates she served us bread off of were all made by her as well. The life she and Royal have in Knoxville seem so breezy and solid and supported and full and healthy. 

Royal is an architect, the home has a couple little miniature homes and buildings made out of what look like high-grade matchsticks. John recognizes a poster on the wall of a friend’s band. Their dog, Willow, approaches me, I get annoyed and think it’s going to be mean or bark or smell bad or be annoying, but then I’m petting it for an hour, she jumps on the couch beside me and I put her in this kind of hug-headlock and fall asleep with her on the couch, Jeremy, I learn later, has taken a picture of this, I feel really happy he did that, and I ask for the picture from him and I send it to a girl I like in an effort to confirm my putative cuteness and genteel nature. When Royal is home we watch funny videos on youtube on his projector, weird interviews with furries and flat-earthers and then of a guy screaming about something while in the middle of traffic outside Universal Studios in L.A., I try to explain to the guys how there was a meme I saw wherein there is a picture of a cat who is reciting the lyrics of a Kanye song but in a cute speech impediment style where it can’t say Rs: “Pwease Baby No Mo Pawties in Ew Ay” and it is basically impossible to explain and gets no laughs and that’s fine and we move on. Jeremy puts on a Vimeo of this incredible short film he made with the title “Guided Meditation for Increased Kill/Death Ratio,” which is exactly what it sounds like, it’s built in Unity, which is like a framework to design video games in, it looks like a generic FPS with a character holding an assault rifle moving down a long spacy looking corridor lined with metal, and with a very calm amniotic ambient track Jeremy comissioned his friend to make, and Jeremy is doing the voiceover, and the conceit is it’s like a guided mindfulness meditation except instead of reducing anxiety or avoiding panic or grappling with trauma or mending depression or whatever the usual purpose of these meditations are (meditations I do daily, using the app Headspace, btw, which no one here knows as far as i know), instead of that, the purpose is to like reassure the video game player that they are a perfect efficient killing machine. Stuff like ‘focus on the feeling in your HUD, now the feeling in your body armor, now the feeling in your M4A1 carbine, now visualize your next spawn, you are not your avatar, you are pure death’ something along those lines, and it hits hard home for me being a former competitive Counter Strike player and casual Halo and Call of Duty player and now being like mentally ill to whatever extent I am such that I believe I require these meditations. ITs really well executed, the player glides through corridors, clips through the ceiling, encounters nebulas and NPCs and aliens and eventually spirals into space. Jeremy shows the original video that inspired him, same basic thing but in a virtual Costco rather than in a FPS. We move slow, Royal screen prints tee shirts for his band, Tired Frontier, on his living room table as we watch the videos. The plan is to spend tonight and the next three tour dates wth Tired Frontier. We eventually go to the show.

It’s a house show, the name of the place is CBD Castle, above the front door they have a huge cardboard sign that says CBDB’s in the style of CBGB’s and there’s a big porch with a huge couch on it and a guard rail thing that you can sit on or prop your feet on perfectly if you’re slouched way down on the couch. We mingle a little, the show gets started, the opening act is Kind Magic, which it becomes evident is something of a joke band, perfectly suited to a house show, they don’t take themselves too seriously, they mostly have just mustaches, 80s style, one guy has wraparound oakleys, he’s the lead singer, he climbs up on his bass amp at one point. Royal comes in, and people start moshing, gently, just like running into each other, Jeremy does a silly dance and I watch it happen and I want to do it and I have to wait a few songs to get up the courage but eventually I give it up and start spinning around and let myself get bounced around and I am 32 years old and feel just right and not self conscious and silly and afraid how I used to always feel at the metalcore concerts when I was 16 in Ace’s Basement in Greensboro and the moshing was this awful violent masculine chauvanist bullshit thing. This is the opposite. One song, the lead singer, it becomes evident, is chanting “Pogo! Pogo! POGO!” and I think this means pogo mosh but it does not, it means the drummer gets up off his throne and picks up a big pogo stick he has secreted in the corner and starts jumping up and down on it WHILE playing a complex drum pattern on the drums, it is unreal the level of dexterity and coordination this guy has, I learn later that he spends half the year touring with a professional pogo troupe whose gigs are mostly basketball halftime shows, and include a guy named Danger Rus, aka Russel The Muscle. This band rips and is so fun and loosens everybody up and people are drinking and getting kind of sloppy and I plan to be mad and indignant about this but instead I just don’t care and it’s lovely. Next up is us.

We set up, I get to use the backline kit so load in is minimal, just setting up breakables again. We get locked in, Kabir revs us up, we get started, and right from the jump either I pushed the tempo with my count-off or the guys pushed the tempo or we all did most likely, but we are playing louder and faster than last night and I am going in all the way hard on the drums, playing with my whole body, i come down with my right hand on the floor tom so hard my butt bounces up off the throne, I’m surprised but I like that so I keep letting that happen, I head bang as hard as possible, my neck is immediately sore and hurting but the crowd is crazy live, everyone is dancing after a few songs. I manage to thrash the wingnute off the hihat clutch which and try to repair it, flounder, and give up, which all that means is I can’t modulate the hi hat and so our set is just louder and more raw which matches the room anyways. By the last two songs the people are dancing so hard that I give up my usual veneer of grimacing and lasering my eyes to the side or corner to avoid the crowd, instead of grimacing what I do is watch what is happening in the crowd, which is the crowd smiling dancing moshing grooving with us, with me, and I get a huge smile on my face which I can’t hide and I’m so incredibly happy just playing and being heard by these people. We end and Royal rallies the crowd and they chant ONE MORE SONG ONE MORE SONG for like 3 minutes but we just don’t know another one, and so there’s no encore, but how special and lovely to be asked to do one.

Tired Frontier plays and they rock and they have keys by Paul who has a master’s in music theory and currently pursuing a second music masters in production or something. Royal has 10 pedals I think, and a super weird tuning, and they make a big wall of ambient noise between the keys from Paul and the feedback from Royal’s “stack,” which is his guitar running through a Fender guitar combo for an amp and with a Fender bass combo for effects. Their set is a little longer and the vocals don’t come through that clear and they don’t give super clear definitions to the start and end of their songs so the set may have been 4 or 7 songs. They finish, and I am so starving hungry I get the keys from Kabir and go to the van and eat about a half a jar of peanut butter and an apple and then go lay on the big white couch outside and just doze, super tired. It starts raining sheets and we learn from somebody that Knoxville’s adjacency to the mountains makes it a temperate rain forest and it rains almost every day. It’s warm and breezy and perfect. Me Kabir and John go get taco bell, the best taco bell in town, I just order the same thing as Kabir rather than taking a million years to choose and that works out great, two spicy potato soft tacos, and we just sit in the parking lot and wolf and chomp. The parking lot is sparkling, spotless, a big street sweeper truck is skrrting around finishing the job, someone who I imagine is on opiates walks very very slowly up to our van and then walks away. Someone is asleep outside near a building in the strip mall. Some car drives up and maybe drops off food or clothes. We go back to CBDB’s Jeremy is involved in a dance party there, Paul is choosing tunes based off what he calls ‘forgotten hits from the 80s.’ We eventually go back to Royal’s I fall asleep almost immediately on the couch.