Ampheta-Me Tonite!

It's possible that my coffee beverage was laced with speed this morning. Or it could just be that all I ingested was that coffee beverage this morning. Or it could be that in a few hours Radio and I will go to the concert of the millennium. Yeah, it's prolly the first one.

I am spazzing out right now. My whole body seems to be trembling in effort to beg me to lie down and sleep but I cannot! Not only were the last two days some of the longest, roughest in recent history, but also my roommate is here and I am leery of her mood right now so I'm trying to be quiet. Do you know how hard it is to be quiet on speed? I'm so hyper I hung up the mountain range of clothes on my floor. If you know me you know that's very bizarre behavior. Now I want to write, to try to calm myself...but that's not looking promising either. I'm too frazzled for observations. I should probably do some yoga or something. Yeah.

I logged onto webNC.com and my personal symptoms evaluator, NC himself, told me I have a case of Nervousmercydrewclosis...which is pretty serious. It comes from a high anticipation to Mercy Mercedes and Nevershoutnever. Tragic. webNC.com does not endorse or approve this message.

I guess I will tell you guys about everything I have to tell you about later...prolly tomorrow. Or Monday. And if anyone knows how to low things down just a tad, please, @reply me immediately.




...Ricky.
"Drop Top" by: Mercy Mercedes

You don't have to worry....

I want...it to be announced that my friends are playing Bamboozle.

I want...this song to play over and over and over again.

I want...world peace.

I want...people to stop telling me Scout and Jem are imposters.

I want...a really big glass of water.

I want...the economy to get well soon.

I want...today to drag on.

I want...it to mean something when I step in front of an audience.

I want...to be the duck that's not in a row.

I want...to kiss somebody that wants to kiss me back.

I want...to be the only one! The only one that's knocking at your door!

I want...more water.

I want...someone to come with me to get my MRI tomorrow.

I want...to dance the Chase Coy piece.

I want you to visit This Condition's myspace and to come to the re-staging of my To Write Love on Her Arms piece outside at Adelphi Wednesday at 1pm.

I want to go outside and lay in the sun with my headphones on and come up with a genius ending to these 2 pieces.

This is a great day for a glass of water.









...Ricky.
"Whoever She Is" by: The Maine

Four hours till work in the morning and we're just getting started baby.

Score 24's so cool they fake drunk dial their friends. You wish you were that hardcore.


Apparently on their way home from a Hamilton Lanes show, Score 24 finds themselves bored and in traffic. They do what they do best and asininely pick up Rob's cell phone, no doubt laughing like fiends at themselves before the prank is even initiated. Back on Long Island my phone vibrates in the cup holder next to the driver's seat. I'm just pulling in from a drive I took to clear my head, though no amount of perfect songs have helped thus far. I ignore the 1 new text message from the scene cutie who is trying to text me right now and answer the call instead. Not only are they not drunk, but they have me on speaker phone and I can hear the rest of the delinquents chuckling in the background. Rob does an okay job, but Ryan takes the Grammy. That really is what you sound like drunk, well done. Both manage to ask me if I'm blogging which leads me to wonder whether I'm being mocked or not, yet I haven't smiled let alone laughed all day so I'll take the prank. Rob insists he is not on a boat, but a motha fuckin bridge! And Ryan declares Andre and Jay are the same name, just change the J to D and add an AN. He also announces he'll be calling him Dr. anDre from now on. The whole time I feel like they aren't quite what they say they are but to be sure, I want to talk to Jay for confirmation that the idiot frontman really isn't driving drunk. He's not, but they do wanna know if there's gonna be a blog about this. What have I created.....

Here's what you're looking for:
Setting: Vibe Lounge, the East Coast Indie Stage BOTB
Time: just at sundown, when the working people turn in and the world becomes the scene kids'.
Characters:....boy is that an understatement!

I am sitting on the couches behind Score 24's merch table which Andre is running, feeling like I am relaxing in my own living room and everyone is home from school. The thing that tips me off to my true surroundings is my own face...I don't smile like this just sitting at home. They played 3 songs but it only took about one verse for me to notice they are different onstage then they are in practice. This.is.the Follow-up. The off-day grunge has gone and show nite gimmicks are on. They've pulled on fitted caps (known locally as 'penis hats') and skinny jeans, and there in lies my smile. Paul looks spiffy; his excitedly colored shirt seems to fit Score's like to party image and appeal. Ryan. I hate to say that it doesn't matter what Ryan looks like because he's actually adorable, but it just doesn't. Any half-musically minded person isn't looking at what he's wearing when the kid drums. He's one of my favorite rim shots on the Island. It's still kinda weird not to see Joey stage left and their vibe is noticeably different, but you can't deny that Jay holds his place down well. I've forgotten the way he moves onstage and for a second it looks foreign to me. I look closely and realize the difference is he's happier now. Rob is the most evolved since practice, having the mysterious demeanor of a cute frontman and the assertion of someone who plays these songs. He's also officially one of my blog's Long Island band boys since he "I saw the Book," and knew exactly what it was. I wonder through their eyes if I define the Book, or the Book defines me.

Back at the merch table Mike and Andre are...entertaining...these 4 girls. It's their first show, they came to see "the rock band." Mike, like a jerk, calls them out on how funny that sound's to a veteran such as himself. But he makes up for it by answering all their questions: "Are you in a band?" "What's your name?" "Do you have a manager?" Oh god, these girls are me 6 years ago! Flyers are shoved into the girls' hands (good, at least they are working as well!) Andre talks up his internet celebrity while Mike boasts his summer tour. I'm not sure whether they'll know me as the friend or the manager since both titles have been throw out there already. It hardly matters since the conversation ended right after, "How old are you?"

Now Score's van...is an entity all it's own. Most vans are. With the exception of Ezra I've kept a relatively safe distance from band vans since the one parked in a driveway in East Meadow. So again, I stand only in the open double doors and make my obervations from there. The work of a journalist is dangerous at times, especially now as I try to look around while the very mature, very serious musicians shoot BB guns at the train platform and at each other. Inside they have one Valet Parking sticker, one diagram of the male reproductive system, and two remains of my best friends; white rimmed aviators and an empty Arnold Palmer. It's pretty clean in there, which I sadly realize means they haven't gotten to tour much yet. And clearly, they have a hidden arsenal of toy guns which they playfully use to kiddingly pelt passing cars and jokingly make Bobby bleed. How sweet. I'm unnervous though because I think they'd never hurt me, so I casually lean against the hood and write about their amusing stupidity.

Before long Mike, Andre, and I are back in the car listening to new tbwb AGAIN. We hit a gas stations and Moe's for a continued discussion about sex and the having of it before winding up at Ryan 24's house looking up into his lighted bedroom window. Creeps. When we called him to come out we learned he was grounded, again, for reasons that will go unblogged to protect the guilty. But we hung out anyway, via speaker phone, as Ryan seriously googled how to make a rope ladder. I had to remind them that ordering online was not an option since it clearly wouldn't be delivered in time for a hasty escape.

We then drove to the exclusive Chestnut to see Set In Color. It was me sick of texting the bassist and wanting to scoop the new guitarist. We based the cold night circle conversation on the hot topic of the scene this week; Bride's new tracks. And while Kenny stood with his moith open, Matt trashed, Joey assessed mine and Mike's hair cuts, Trey actually spoke, and Andre defended Devin, Mike and I laughed to ourselves, and Anthony just stood there not paying attention in all his sceneness. Almost as soon as we left to go back to Adelphi I resumed texting 2 In Colors, 1 24, and tried to be gracious to 1 Wore Black while enjoying the company of 1 Condition. A smart scene girl plays before she gets played.

Fast forward days ahead and I am at some church in Northport on a Friday evening. I took notes on my hand and Rob tried to read them, but as I recall seeing my blog open on a computer screen in the very same room as I...I am having confidence issues with typing those scribbled thoughts out. I would have written about Paul's outfit again. The sunglasses he wore inside that actually made it hard not to watch him. About the many cool intricacies that you'd see if you let the melody go and just focused on Paul and Ryan at times. I'd have to mention, as I warned, about the mistakes they made and the tension I felt in the line-up. I'd write about the bass swing aand the better executed correction of it. Mostly I'd write about the way the sticks echoed in the auditorium as the drummer called out the time. I would have declared that they've all become official LIbb's in recognizing the Book and that I felt both flattered and nervous that they all confessed to having read this stuff. And my bottom line would have read; "All you need to know is, their new song has a 1st verse to kill me with."








...Ricky.
"You Might As Well Be In Space" The Years Gone By

Temporary Post...

So I woke up this morning with the planned task of clearing this cluttered head in, apparently, a much anticipated blog. But it's not ready yet. I'm having this conversation with Jay right now about how it works, the business of secrets,and how there are days like these that define "hurt on the job." Because while it's awesome knowing things and having people come to you, the catch is actually having to know them. The burden is part of the gift. Some days having to know who is hurting who and who secretly feels that way, it wears me out. Yet secrets is a business, and the teller I spoke with last night and I, we are professionals. So this is a temporary "Be Back after Lunch" note for those of you who keep texting me asking if a new blog is up. It's not, but I promise it'll be here as soon as my head wraps around everything all of you voluntarily told me last night. Thank you for keeping me in business, I appreciate you patronage.



secretly prone but publicly grateful,
...Ricky.

one lost song that found me forever ago

I promised a singer the observations of his last week's show would be posted by now, but sometimes, it's okay to make a rock star wait.

It's hard for me to say how I got this way, because I've always been just this. Maybe a little poorer dressed, maybe a little less acquainted with tough love. But all the while, through poor decisions and worse styles, being me has gotten me through. It's done me alright at the end of the day. Sure maybe I'd like to be nicer, skinnier, less vulgar. But I really can't say another person that I'd want to be. And that just doesn't make some people very happy at all.

As I write this I am having one of those surreal late night conversations, one that you'd find cliche in a movie but that you cannot believe is actually happening to you right now. The kind when you think, did I let it get to this?

Tomorrow morning I will wake up like this never happened. And slowly as my toes and shoulders wake up so will my recollection of the night before. And my chest will ask me to crawl back under the covers. But scene girls don't hide. They don't miss shows because they feel awkward, or stay behind the line because they are hurt. You're thinking of emo girls. Scene girls do their hair and know that while they might not have it all, they've sure got something. And something's worth one more song.

I am a scene girl. I've always been just this. I am an artist and a friend, an optimist and a thinker. I am a writer and I will write what I want. I understand you although you may think I am crazy. I think you may be right. But blame me, not the words. The words are just a thousand immortalizations of a group of waiting rock stars.





...Ricky.

yes to your Question #2...

I was thinking again about the Taco Bell parking lot the night of Jason Aron's and the semi-circle of sufficiently talented band boys that were vying for my smile. I was thinking, giggling really, not so much hearing what they were saying to me but rather, hearing their choruses and recalling all the places they've been. I was giggling at how they were back here with me for this one night, and unbeknownst to them, it was that that gave them the smile they were looking for, not the 'hey babys.' Lol DML.

I was talking to a Stereo on aim; the version of him that I know but that few people have even believed exists. He IS cocky, and as a Jac Vanek bracelet reads from his wrist, a 'ruthless' business man. But I stubbornly keep looking for more. The Stereo they know thinks he's entitled to this success...but the one I talk to says this is all so surreal to him. Their Stereo doesn't care or remember where he came from...but he spoke to me of where we where a year ago together and how back then he would've talked big, but never really believed he'd be playing arenas in 2009. I told him he had always had me convinced. The Mr. Stereo they talk about constantly would trash them right back...but when I got upset and called them all nothing but dirty Long Island scene boys filled with bitterness, the Stereo pulled me back and said, "hey now, I was one of them."

I think jealously is too common a word for the disconnect between musicians who are on their way and ones that are still working for a break. I think that people diss loyalty trying to hold onto their dreams and others mouth off because it's the best vent for bitterness. I can't really blame either side. I think whether I'm right or not I will always see that Stereo differently, based solely on the fact that I've stayed quiet enough to listen on occasion. A bird watcher doesn't scream at the birds until they look the way she wants them to, she sees them how they already are and then may do with her findings whatever she wants.

I was thinking about how attractive this one kid is, and how another is almost smooth when he's keeping his mouth shut. How one is borderline prophetic and how it turns out these ones can actually write. I was thinking about how that kid is frickin crazy and how this one goes and gets whatever he wants. I'm thinking about this one's stage show, this one's blatant skill, and this one's scene hair. And then in one distinct instant I am thinking about that Taco Bell parking lot the night of Jason Aron's and the semi-circle I stood center of attention in. And I realize, they're all just boys. And boys are sufficiently manageable.





....Ricky.
new Bride Wore Black songs that you can't hear and I'm not supposed to have.

Bedtime Story to Andre from back in the day (about a month ago)...

riicky5: want me to tell you a bedtime story?

GianttheANDRE: yup

riicky5 : okay.
riicky5 : once upon a land, in a time far far away
riicky5 : there was a boy
riicky5 : named Tom
riicky5 : and Tom was subjected to a terrible family history of verbal abuse and wrong notes
riicky5 : one day, he went mad and shut himself away (away away away) up in a tower
(you took my breath awayyy) made of stone that had been constructed by a mason who had in fact, been stoned at the time of construction
riicky5 : needless to say, the stone tower was not too stable.

riicky5 : Now, bc Tom had been so poorly influenced since scene childism, he had unfortunately spoke his mind a little too much and may have accidentally thrown a stank face or two.
riicky5 : And so, as the tower o' pity grew more and more shaky, Tom began to worry that one of his many foes would come to destroy him.
riicky5 : Sure enough, the next day (which also happened to be bring your secretary to the bedroom day) Tom heard a foe calling his name.
riicky5 : Poking his head out the window, Tom looked down to see none other than Nob Fox, come to destroy the tower.
riicky5 : "I will huff and puff and blow your tower down!!" shouted Nob
riicky5 : After deep inhalation and significantly powered exhalation, Nob's breath rattled the stone tower. However, it remained standing.
riicky5 : Thank heavens! sighed Tom.
riicky5 : Nob sulked away mumbling about which girl should he choose to blow.

riicky5 : After lunch (rhubarb sandwiches and toffee nut crumb cake) Tom again heard his name
riicky5 : Poking his head out the window, Tom looked down to see none other than Ball Ruess, come to destroy the tower.
riicky5 : "I will huff and puff and blow your tower down!!" yelled Ball
riicky5 : "That's what she said!" Tom called down.
riicky5 : But still, the tower remained standing.
riicky5 : Ball scratched himself and sulked away.

riicky5 : Dinnertime passed as did dessert and Tom watched re-runs of Desperate Housewives.
riicky5 : He was just about to sail off into dreamland when he heard someone calling his name
riicky5 : Poking his head out the window, Tom looked down to see none other than Joey Cocks and Styan Linzer, come to destroy the tower.
riicky5 : "We are smarter than the rest!" shouted Joey Cocks. "We will rock your tower down!" called Styan.
riicky5 : Styan surreally raised two sticks into the foggy medieval air and cracked a 4 count that seemed to ring out into the epic darkness

GianttheANDRE : lol

riicky5 : No sooner did he smirk than an army of LI scenesters charged out of the woods armed with instruments of every make and model
riicky5 : And, thanks to their sponsor with a wireless amp company, the army rocked and rambled the stones right out of their ill equipped masonry.
riicky5 : Tom squealed as his limp body came crashing down into the darkness. Joey Cocks flipped his Efron-esque hair aside and dashed just in time to catch Tom as he fell.
riicky5 : And as Joey stood there, cradling the trembling Tom in his arms, he knew that they had not destroyed him at all but saved him, from his lonely madness and terrible television habits.

GianttheANDRE : lol

riicky5 : Upon the revelation, the sky opened up and the heavens cast down beautiful rainbows that interrupted the night's sadness
riicky5 : all the scenesters cheered!
riicky5 : and that is the story
riicky5 : of how Tom brought Color back to the music scene.
riicky5 : the end

I talked to the boy with the Hands...

It's true. In the temporary tattoo line at Spring-In today. It took me 5 minutes to first decide I wanted to talk to him, and then 10 more to rehearse what I was going to say. It still went pretty awkwardly. He was very chatty, although his hands we shyly shoved in his pockets. It made me less nervous. Overall I'd say the interaction went a solidly as it could have and I look forward to prollllly never speaking to him again.


...Ricky.
"Weightless" by: All Time (shawty get) Lowww

Believe you me...

Oh the stories I could tell you; the scandal, the gossip, the lives. The random nights that became epic and the outfits that made us legendary. I seem to live by the phrase, "it's the flash flashy eyes that make it worth while." It would be Mercy Mercedes who wrote my mantra. The scene is predictably unpredictable and through some tears I just can't get enough of it's poison. "You are the taste of something sweet and I'm tangled in the sheets." I would be All Time Low that makes sense this morning. The kind of love I know doesn't adhere to the quote at the bottom of my page; "Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies. -Aristotle" ...Maybe of a single song inflating two hearts. Or a single glance burning two memories. The love I know is acceptably temporary, "because attention's like a fire." Fires don't last so much as they are brilliant mid-life. I see great things in the ashes; things I cannot touch, but can still feel the warmth of.

The mornings after always seem to house themselves in ballet class, a realization that brings a nauseous smile to my face. Somebody needs to re-invent the word 'bittersweet' because dance just emanates above and beyond it's current definition. Dance is a different kind of love: "Dedication takes a lifetime, but dreams only last for a night." Dance is my life, these boys with guitars are my nights.

Taylor Swift said in her AMCA acceptance speech that if she's spent more than 5 minutes with you, she's written a song about you. Well...if I've spent more than an evening with you, I've loved you. Such a sleeve-worn heart, so complicated in its simplicity.

When I was a toddler I firmly believed my name was Cindy. So much so in fact, that my poor mother was questioned by a Toys 'R Us security guard on the terms of abduction since she was trying to hush an Erica and I was screaming and crying that my name was Cindy. What an imaginative little monster. Now they call me Ricky, and I think that's just another one of my many outfits that I like to parade around in. My life is like one fabulous game of dress up and I really don't mind that one bit.

I like catching the music in people; one dancer in a room of 18 taps her fingers to the beat. I disagree with the way our dance teachers are asking for energy within the music- they're wanting us to give it the way they hear it, rather than accepting an alternate interpretation. That's not art, it's mimicking. They are not people I'd like to see us mimick. And who wants to be copied? I read the cover of All Time Low's So Wrong It's Right album and at the bottom in slight lettering it assertively states, "Unauthorized duplicators will have their homes burned to the ground by the band." I laughed out loud in the middle of dance class and got a sharp look from the instructor. Maybe he just needs to get over his life and have a night.

"So Wrong It's Right"- what an excellent statement. My other relevant line is, "This scene ain't picture perfect, but picture this; a thousand photographs we'll miss." I probably don't know what is wrong and right anymore, not in the real world at least. But for me in mine, there can be right in the wrong and almost every wrong feels right. Temporary love. If I have spent more than one evening with you, I have loved you. I have loved your stupid taste in style, and your uneven haircut. I've loved your brutal honesty and the effort behind your 'cute smile.' I've loved how wrong it is to love all of you and how flammable I feel around us. "And that should be enough."

We are shameless. And you really should be jealous that we're young and in love. I lead a life of behind the scene acoustic versions and terribly cute lies. And I can honestly say that I am completely infected.


"Hips sway and lips lie,
like clockwork she's in control
of all the right guys and I'm still waiting!
Fitted hats and a car alarm,
her high tops with her favorite song,
she's showing off the way she walks.
It's on...."



...Ricky.
"Stay Awake" by All Time Low

Addiction is my Sweetest Quality (weekend part 4)

How perfect. What a more fitting way to end a book than a blow-my-mind random, are you sure that really just happened few days. Oh this book...the places it's been with me! I should start by mentioning that there were 3 more pages in it to manuscript, but as fate would have it I was in need to rip them out to jot down license and insurance information for the accident I got in on the Cross Island. I tried hard not to be upset, but some mouthy tow truck man spoke to me like I was 12 because I was a girl and told me my car would blow up if I drove it. I ran to Mike when he came to sit with me and take me home. He was the bfg in the beginning of this book, and despite murky middle pages, I'm so lucky to see him in the end of it.

I think we are just in love with being in love with our youth. Mike decided that coming to a party would make me feel better, actually he decided that seeing certain people at this party would make me feel better, plus he wanted guaranteed sidekickness, so...a few hours later I was exhausted but outfitted and on my way to Jason Aron's with 3/5 of This Condition.

I'm not sure the party was what I expected, but the faces there did bring me back to my own reality. If twitter allowed longer post I would have @replied Mike, Nate, Ant, SOK, Jay, Devin Wore Black, Sam Wore Black and Ashley, Kevin, RobStereo, Bri Bri (as a wasted birthday boy), Chris Parking, CalLiveStereo, and Jason Aron. And the police. The scene was questionable, if not entertaining and the highlights in my memory include, Mike going ahead with his beer pong shot with a 22-yr old ID, Nate's big blue mouthiness, those girls that were freaking out, suggesting Devin offer the cop a beer, Rob asking Kev to try to shut Brian up in Jason's room, suggesting we bribe the cops with Jason's We The Kings and Boys Like Girls stuff for their daughters, and of course, Jason bumping into the cop so that the IDs flew across the room and fell all over Sean O'Kane and into the couch cushions. Niice. After people had fled the party seemed significantly more chill. We got highly entertained by a mix of Devin and Cal, who told me his name was short for California and that he played guitar in Panic at the Disco. I called it even since I had him believing I sung for a band called Stereo Skyline. Although we all hugged each other (again) like we would never see each other again...I found myself amongst them all at the one and only Valet Parking Taco Bell. Here I laughed as girls giggled to recognize Mr. Stereo, Jay and Mike held cheese in their drunken beards as they held serious conversations, and Chris Parking initiated conversation with some girl with, "wow, how's your sister?" Kevin ate 3 meals. Chris gestured with a full cup of soda in his hand. Rob, Brian, and Cal almost ran us over in the parking lot, and I got plenty of silly attention.

An estranged wise man once said,
"I am the NOTEBOOK." -Pablo Picasso

I am these stories, in these books, with these words. And so with a smile, a wink, and a lyric, I sign off one more time saying love only and god bless the scene girls.




...Ricky.
"Weightless" by: All Time Low
"Young Hollywood" by: More Amor
"I Wanna" by: All American Rejects
"Five Tens in Harlem" by: Stereo Skyline
"new song" by: This Condition
"Ocean" by: Score 24

Humor is my Fiercest Quality (weekend part 3)

My body was shaky with exhaustion but I just couldn't stop going. I stopped for coffee on the way to CT because I was falling asleep at the wheel, was minimally disgruntled by a man not knowing how to make a latte that I literally needed to stay alive. But I walked backed to the parking lot and meddled around a streetlight pole littered with stickers until I found a band I knew, smiled at the Styrofoam Junkies pride, and got back in the car.

Easter this year was in the middle ground of New Haven, and you just can't get more random than that. I spent the day in absolute hysterics, redoing my makeup 3 times because my family is just too freakin funny. Though I'm sure you had to be there, these are things I recorded:

Bobby, all bothered, enters the elevator. "Figures," he huffs, "No sports section in the damn Wall Street Journal."

We parked next to a big white van at the hotel that my Dad reported had pulled in real late last night and left beer cans around the tires. Sure signs! I tried to discreetly peek in the windows for a glimpse of road cases and bass caps. Bobby harrassed me, "Ohh Erica's gonna write in her journal now- 'I almost had a run-in with fate. I almost saw a band, they probably would have known me.' loll.

"Kudos Daddy!" -Bobby

Mom- "Slow down so we can read the signs..."
Dad- "We are doing 21 Roxane!"

Parked by the wharf:
Bob- "We look like a bunch of terrorists right now."
Dad- "Oh yeah?"
Me- "Terrorists, Bob?"
Bob- "TOURISTS maybe."
Dad- "They're cameras not guns, Bob!"
Bob- "Psht, same thing with Mom!"

Silence in the truck. Then, Mom:
"I think I just saw a drug deal."
Silence.
"The guy walked up to a door. One guy gave him something. He gave the one guy something. There was an EXCHANGE."
Silence.
"I'm telling you, you guys think I'm crazy but I saw a drug deal!"


Mom- "Gimme some of those M&M's, I'm getting nauseous."
Dad- "From what?? Lack of food??"
Mom- "Noo...from looking at the water."
Bob- "Uh ohh be careful Mom, it's raining out. Don't look!"

Mom made Dad turn down a tightly spaced driveway insisting that it was not permit parking only despite a big red sign. She was wrong.
Dad- "Now it's gonna take me like- a 40 point turn to get the hell outta here!!"
Mom- "Okay let's see...1....2....oh...You made it in SIX!"

My Mom wanted to "just hang out" in the parking garage all day. "Eddie, park in a big spot in case we wanna party later!"


No comment, to any of the above. Lol. After having an Easter dinner of finger foods in an Irish pub, we drove opposite ways on I-95.

Epicness is my Cutest Quality (weekend part 2)

Score 24 Practice:
Maybe it's that it's been a whole week since I've been to a show. Maybe it's that last night I actually hung out with someone not of the music genre. Maybe it's just that this music makes the blood in my veins smile.

"I'll make your summer so regrettable" The lighting is one row of fluorescent lights and the only other illumination comes from the tiny red glow on their amps, but it is enough to see these paragraphs unfold. Band boys let it all hang out; all their flaws, all their emotions. I like seeing the grunge up close, it's infectious. And I feel pretty sickened with smirks in this room right now. Seeing band boys on non-show days is even more interesting to me than watching them work a venue. Their attire isn't as crisp, not as matchable to lights and staring games. I like how they wear old skinnys and awkward thermals. I like how they save boxer briefs for appearances and dont care that off-day boxers are less graceful. I like how they don't do their hair and it looks better than it does when they do. I like how they try to hold my attention regardless of all of this. After every song or whenever it's quiet enough to hear himself really, Rob makes some sort of gasping sex noise into the microphone. He sings the verses in X-chromosome favored pitches and wiggles retardedly every chance he gets. Yet however goofy, there's something that makes it hott rather than annoying. Maybe its the gadget he holds in his arms. I feel so impaired around them and the amps they plug into. And I hate when he winks at me too, I get thrown off and definitely in a noticeable way. Yet i love how everything in front of me makes sense; Paul sipping coffee in between songs, Jay sitting on an amp looking down as he plays, Ryan wearing no shoes and gym shorts, Rob...being Rob. They seriously attempt to play one of their songs backwards, and then spend 10 minutes re-writing it to sound like The Beatles. I've been around a lot of seriousness lately; member in and outs, secrets, technical issues, tour paperwork, but Score brings this life back to its purest form. This music they're playing in front of me doesn't bleed, it breathes. It laughs. How could Jay say it wasn't different from a tC or stereo practice? Paul is dancing like a Russian? It is all the difference. This band is good for Jay, they play to play, not to get famous or to get laid. Maybe a little to get laid.

I get a lot of attention in this practice, and I'm not sure of what to do with it. Its actually preferred that I don't keep quiet, which throws me off. Rob sings his parts, Joey's old parts, Paul's parts, and parts that were never even written. Ryan is just good. So very good. If Paul wasn't at least somewhat serious, they'd get nothing done. They'd just watch Rob laugh at himself. They pick up playing Coheed and Cambria's "Welcome Home," all parts just suddenly falling into place. It sounds like it's their song to practice. I'm impressed, potentially even turned on...then Rob starts screaming operatically into the mic aaand we're back to Score 24 practice lol. I've already started not answering texts from those pursuers of the non-musical state, only proving that I am a scene girl at heart as well as in dress. So to answer my own mental question of where the battle royale comes in this time around, it's here; guy versus all my band boy adventures. Poor kid doesn't stand a chance.

Because all games bear excitement and the best life is the random one, Jay and I left Score 24 practice only to weasle out of plans and drive to the Broadway Mall for Set In Color's Hot Topic set. Turns out everyone who swore they wouldn't come showed up anyways, not because we like Set In Color or because we particularly wanted to see certain members of it, but because we wanted to be amongst ourselves and this is where the scene was tonight. I didn't write about the set or the signing, I didn't know how to honestly without offending new In Color's that I care about. I will say that I had fun with Sometimes Jamie, and loved hearing whispers about the group of band boys I belonged to but was not standing with. Yeah, I know that's Mike from This Condition, and I've heard mention of Stereo Skyline. My heart felt sick but I could stomach seeing Villani sign an ipod and just laughed out of unexpectancy at the bassist's wink. We saw the food court and the Easter Bunny with Score, and heard horrifically detailed Jerry Parking tour stories before going separate ways.

With Jay at the wheel and Mike's kickass playlist in the speakers, we somehow found SOK's bedroom. After brief analysis there, we set out for food. However, we got hungry and stopped for a snack on the way to food, thus imbibing slurpees as our second 7Eleven meal of the day. Turns out the food we actually got to was a bowl of pretzels in Seaford at some costume party we found DocRock (copyright SOK) at. I'm not really sure how we got there, bc I looked backwards and fell in and out of naps the whole night, but I do know there was one dude totally lovin his DJing skillz and singing loudly to pretty much no one but himself. Legendary. We @reliped too much and tweeted our fingers off, then got back in the car and I don't know...looped Long Island again? I only know that that playlist was great.

After realizing I was starving and stopping for snack #3 at 7Eleven, I got home at 3am to wake up at 5am and drive to Connecticut for makeshift Easter. Count 'em; hours slept, about 2.

Spontaneity is my Freshest Quality (weekend part one)

Alright alright, we need to start blogging again! 140 characters just doesn't blow my mind the same way. Unfortunately there is this gap between my fingers and my brain, Web MD refers to it as "the common cold," but my mother still thinks I'm dying. No Mom, I am not going to urgent care. Consequently, I have just had the most ridiculous and awesome 4 days since...well since the last time I had such an extended adventure, and all I have are notes and half paragraphs characterizing in-moment deets. Maybe I should try and do this now:


Thursday night I innocently sat in Starbucks with Ms. Ashley Chandler visiting Phil and Mandy on their close. We had every intention of doing our work amidst the free caffiene, yet the next thing I knew we were scooping Lo Lo Perez in Officer Matt's car and discovering Ladies' Nite was till 1am at Fallon's. Ah, how quickly it became a Show. I remember everything from the bar; Lo and I drinking lots of terrible wine, flirting cigarettes out of boys standing on the street, and those rich guys who were so entertained with our sarcastic attitudes. We drunk texted a couple of pop scene rockstars...what a terribly fantastic idea that was! Apparently all I wanted to know from Kev was if Travis Clark was nice. lol, thank you for reassuring me Mr. Stereo. I remember we sung Taylor Swift really loud in Phil's car, and that we saw Show Me Jack at the Lantern. The rest I'm pretty sure was "oh no you did not just say that that loud" and "put that away!" A few drunk texts to Jay later I was safe in bed with no inkling that I wouldn't be soundly in it again for the next four days.

Friday was the unplanned day. We were allowed to skip dance, thank god, and I woke up slowly in effort to gently recall details of the night before. The outbox is usually the worst part. This morning it made me laugh. At noon I decided I HAD to have lunch with Jay, but by the time all the texts were exchanged and I actually got my ass into East Meadow, it was about a half hour until Score 24 practice. We got our first meal at 7Eleven and appropriately ate it at a park; apples and peanut butter watching a game of tennis. That Mom was wayy too into her game, let the kid play wall ball with the other hooligans. Then to Ryan24's for practice. I brought my book with every intention of writing as I have in KOS, stereo, tC, and JV3 practices, but even for a scene queen like me this rehearsal was unexpected. Here's what's worth mentioning.....

i don't know what to say anymore

I have pages and pages in the Book ready to be turned into blogs, but I just haven't the energy of heart to do so. I'm sick, but not uninspired. I'm heartbroken, but not going anywhere. What can I say that will clear my head? And where are the words I want to give to my friends? Lately all I've had time to think about is that playground, and how that was so so long ago. My body is fighting me like a gladiator against doing the things that instantly make me smile. But Scout and Jem are fictional characters I am not scared of and I will sing like Alex Gaskarth through any bout with whooping cough. I scribbled this on a tissue sometime in my past 4 days of deterioration;

Most of my tears are tired ones
and most of my thoughts are biased right now.

Some of my tweets are hopeful,
some of them are blatant lies to fool the @repliers out there.

A few of my songs are new,
yet there are a few that just play over and over and over again.

Little of what I say is definite,
but a little faith can get you a long way.

There is a lot to be thankful for,
besides there's a lot of cities for them to hit.

Every day is another ending; a last chance, a goodbye.
I believe in the flashy eyes.
Every one of them.




Ricky.
"In the Blue" by: We Shot the Moon