"Tonight I am at the Vibe Lounge"

I am being overly advised on the subject of boys. It seems as though I have 5 or 6 big brothers in the LI scene (bigger, not older) who are determined to look out for my best interest. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank all of you who have submitted an opinion, however none of you will be taking home the grand prize of being right. Sorry. I know you've all seen the worst of each other and that you're only trying to look out for me...but let's do like we usually do; let me make a mistake, then you come over and play Dakota on your acoustics to make me smile and neverr say i told you so. Deal? :) Ok.

Tonight- sigh. I have written this sentence maybe 12 thousand times; Tonight I am at the Vibe Lounge. It's been years now that I've been coming here, a few less years that I've been recognized here, and even a few less that my presence was requested. Yet in my scene, all roads lead home to Vibe. No, kids don't so much come in packs anymore, and yes, I have to repeat outfits all the time. But I had a lousy day with the situations mentioned above and I just wanted to be around a guitar. I wanted to be somewhere where no one could text me their opinions. I wanted to go to a home. Lucky for me, Dob tweets every 6 seconds and I was reminded of The Promise's show. So. Tonight I am at the Vibe Lounge.

I chat with Dob outside. I get my bag checked by the bouncer. I fixed my hair in the mirror coming down the stairs and accept a black X on my right hand. How many times have I done all this? I go to the bathroom, because there is nothing else to do yet, and as I come out, I quite nearly smacked Travis McGee with the door. Ok, I've never done that before. Hi's are exchanged like it's not awkward that I hit him with a door and now he's staring into the girl's bathroom. Then I walk to sit at the bar shaking my head at how classic Ricky that was, and wonder how many awkward moments I've created at the Vibe Lounge.

This band on the show- Stay, from Massachusetts- has a bassist with a mess of curly hair and a singer who wears super form-fitting skinnies (cuz he's not lanky he actually has a form to fit) and spends a lot of the time singing on his tip toes. Now why does that sound familiar...

The Promise- promises to be always slightly unconventional. I mean there's not a skinny jean or Vans shoe in sight and the frontman wears a Beijing 2008 Olympic t-shirt. That's The Promise. Dobby's mic is pretty short, as are many of the songs. But the jumps he does with his bass get mad air and, in a post-set "interview" he tells me those leaps actually come completely natural to him. No practice. Believe it or not.

I think I love it when a musician asks me if I can hear his instrument from the audience. It's always the same charades; quick point to his guitar then to his ear, while mouthing the question. I wonder how many times I've been asked this in the Vibe Lounge.

I have my favorite parts about this place for sure. For one, getting asked said question. But I also like how the touring bands just sit and stare at the local circuses play. And how Travis and Cerney get bored and start using alternate voices to announce Loaded's upcoming shows. I like when the girls in the bathroom are complaining about how stupid a drummer or bassist is acting while they graffiti his band's name on the stall. That step by the merch tables. I like how when I look into the ceiling mirror above the front row I can see 12 thousand sets and smiles and times that have been awkwardly perfect for me here.

Tonight I am at the Vibe Lounge. I had the lousiest day. I know everyone's just trying to help, but it's wearing me out. I got dressed and went to the same old venue with nothing but the promise of it feeling like home. I talked to Dob outside. I got my bag checked by the bouncer. I fixed my hair in the mirror coming down the stairs, and I accept a black X on my right hand. I didn't crack a real smile until somebody put on Mercy Mercedes in between bands. Then it felt like home.

Thanks for cheering me up guys.




...Terica.
"Shiver Me Timbers" by: Mercy Mercedes
(nov. 14th at TheVibeLounge with Between The Trees and Big City Lights)

you're what they're talkin about.

TimmyEPIC and I have had several conversations over why we love writing about the morning so much. I still don't know why. MatthewinColor says he can wake up and feel if it's going to be a writing day or not for him. I think it's mornings that Timmy and I wake up with 3 sentences already written that we notice, and it's those mornings that are, well, epic enough to be written about.

Every morning I wake up with a song in my head. Every morning I mumble "hola" to Candace as she walks back and forth getting ready for class. I must look ridiculous with blankets and blonde hair everywhere. Eyes still closed, I listen to what the dancers are complaining about in the kitchen- mostly teachers, mostly I always agree. By this time Nathen is singing out of my phone, because I'll set an alarm once in a month and never remember to turn it off. This is when I smile and open my eyes. 10 new text messages: Radio, Radio, tweet, tweet, Nate, Nik, tweet (shut up Dob), AndrePalmer, tweet, tweet. I roll over and the first thing I see is the Back To The Future picture Rob24 drew for me during Arts&Crafts time the other day. He says on Scene Street, USA, we will do Arts&Crafts and watch Elf every day. Next I see This Condition flyers, and I remember what I dreamt. I dreamt of a sacrifice, a kitten, a caterpllar, and an encore. I dreamt that everything was worth it.

I remember I get to go to Vibe tonight. I don't know who will be there or everybody who will be playing, but it excites me enough to free my legs from the covers and stand up. Today I don't fall. On the couch there's 10 minutes before the Golden Girls comes on, which is the official start of my day. I go to read the Singer's blog before I get coffee and before I start the TC mailing list.

But I don't get my coffee.

I sit there, everything quiet, still, and calm but my eyes. My eyes read his words and by the end one single tear falls, splashing loudly on the keyboard.

Please read it.
http://justinis.tumblr.com/

So far, if this was my last day, I would have made all the right choices. I would listen to The Maine and watch The Golden Girls and write a blog that didn't make sense until you guys read it. Sometime into the afternoon I would get dressed and go to Vibe, and I would smile no matter who was playing. Yet I supposed there is something I would be sure to do before I left..There are a handful of people who I should tell I love them. And you are one of them.


...Terica.
Can't Stop Won't Stop by: The Maine

back to the future

I am sick of loving things that don't love me back. These things, I'm sure, have no idea I feel this way. Some of them care. Some of them claim to care more than I comprehend. There is room for selfish in caring. Caring is not loving, not exactly. Some of them I have given my life to and still, they throw me out. They don't look back. Some of them I walk away from before they walk away from me. I am sick of being in love with things that leave me sitting in a corner or wondering if I said something wrong. I am sick of being in love with question marks. I don't want maybes.

I know the logical answer to this. I know I usually do the opposite of that. What I don't know is if my heart knows what it's talking about.




...Terica.

Shh. Just go with it.

Pros and cons.

I fell asleep in my skinnies, scarf, winter coat, and shoes.
Pro: I can literally roll outta bed in the morning and get coffee.
Con: Someone put a chip in my heart the night before.

Bright and sunny October morning.
Pro: it's a bright and sunny October morning.
Con: I just rolled outta bed. omg, I can't see a thing.

Grabbed the first cd off my passenger seat.
Pro: I started singing!
Con: the cd was old and only Every Avenue would play, over and over.
*scratch those. Reverse them.

I clap at the end of songs which both the band and I have performed exceptionally.
Pro: the audience loves me.
Con: the person in the car next to me thinks I'm psycho.

Radio wakes up early.
Pro: our love lives start or continue before breakfast.
Con: our love lives start or continue before breakfast.

Tom the Builder e-mailed me last night.
Pro: got the new song I wanted!
Con: see #1.

Everyone uses Twitter, Facebook, and aim.
Pro: you know when people wake up, when they went to bed.
Con: see #1.

I'm at a loss for words this morning.
Pro: I'm prolly not gonna text you anything stupid.
Con: I'm prolly gonna text somebody else something stupid.



Summary (for those of you with short attention spans):
It's gorgeous outside even though staying up all night induces heavy shivering which leaves my body tired. But I got my coffee and listened to Every Avenue, which reminded me of the boy who did make me smile last night. I'm a bad singer, but I've got sweetheart friends that egg me on anyways. My day is open and unpredictable, where as yours, well you know at least one thing that won't happen.


"I heard the bad news, I heard all about you.
It's not what you did. It's just what you do."



...Terica.
"Trading Heartbeats"

these hands are meant to hold.

So I think it's gonna be one of those days.

This was the first morning in weeks that I woke up on my own. Confused, I checked for text messages I didn't have. At first I thought it was nice, but I'm not so sure how I feel about it. I freed my legs from the covers to stand up with strength I didn't have. I forgot I had danced last night and fell right to the floor. My hernias are pissed. I got up to get dressed in peace that wasn't there. One of my roommates was screaming, shocker. So I threw on a scarf and left, while friends on my phone asked me for answers I didn't have.

I looked at the size of my wallet and bought plain coffee, drove home and dropped it all over myself. My hand were shaking. Anxiety. I sat down, letting the liquid scald me just to have a moment to breathe. Tears though, I don't have.

The only thing I have to eat are Eggos. So I made one and ate it with syrup that I don't have. I have water, and an Eggo, and a coffee stained leg. And patience.

I spent money I don't have on the Stereo show at Highline later. I don't know why. I don't have the heart to see them. I think this is gonna be one of those days, but at least I've got today right? There's a lot I don't have, but I have a lot to give..I'm just not sure it's anything you want.



...Terica.
"Move Along" by: All American Rejects

hey there it's good to see you again.

pa⋅tience
 
 /ˈpeɪʃəns/
Show Spelled Pronunciation [pey-shuhns

See web results of patience
See images of patience

–noun

1. an ability or willingness to suppress restlessness or annoyance when confronted with delay.












...Terica.

we watch and wait and do nothing but sigh, and hope...

I am laying in my bed listening to cold rain tap up against my window. I know its cold because Radio already warned me in a text that it was. I wonder when I started sleeping with my cell phone on my pillow, and I wonder why by now it's not a boy there instead. But it was 3am when I reached a full inbox, so I don't wonder for long.

There are 4 or 5 vans full of the people I believe in most tooling around various parts of the country right now. Tour awake hours are different from home awake hours, and I don't mind that they consider me on their schedule. Therefore I am up texting every night, sending homemade hope thousands of miles down the line. I guess it's the scene form of pillow talk.

I slept more tonight then I usually do, having time to dream about one of the vans living along the highway. I woke up, losing how it ended, but the tense pain in my back must mean it wasn't well. My arm instinctively wiggled free of the blankets and I squinted to start answering the 4 new messages since last I was awake. I started sleeping with my phone on my pillow when they started sleeping in bunks on wheels.

Most readers think I hate tour, I've written it mainly as a thing of abandonment and loss. But the truth is, I would rather have 5 vans of the boys I love most scattered around the country making me worry at all hours of the night than have them safely in their Long Island beds. It's where they want to be, and where they should be. Plus I'll worry either way. And I can sleep when I'm old and have fully reaped the fiscal benefits of an entire season of VH1 Behind the Music.

The sun is coming up, and while the last of my band boys gives into rest, I sit up and start working on the 11 pages of notes I took on Casari last night. I have until lunchtime to finish them, which is when I usually expect the next round of pillow talk texts.




...Tera.
"Everything'll Be Alright (Will's Lullaby)" by: Joshua Radin

Remember when you said that you could save me?

I wanna trip and fall.
But when I do, I want to fall into somebody else.

Spending Wednesday night in the basement that is the Vibe Lounge yet again, I stand short next to MikeCondition, who has so graciously accompanied me on my excursion out of the depths of cyber space. I swear if tinnitus doesn't do me in, wonky eyesight will.

The boys of The Right Coast are scattered about the near-empty venue. The last time I saw them they were here in flip-flops and tanks in the dead of summer. Brandon Ehrgood's look had thrilled me then, but his set hadn't. Regardless, I stand next to this front man some 4 months later and get the same old rush. I consider that it's much like the feeling I had with Mr. Stereo AFTER he got signed or Nick Santino BEFORE I hung around him. Impressions and rumors tell me they are less than heroic, but my scene kid smiles are inevitable. Standing next to Brandon, it's probably not so much him that gives me smiles, but more so his hair and voice. I can be so predictable sometimes.

At set time the songs didn't impress me any more than they hadn't this summer. Sloppiness doesn't impress me. But there is something about The Right Coast that makes me very very sad. No. That lets me be very sad.

There is so much stress on the characters of this blog lately. Money and ultimatums, tour schedules and poor health. And all of us have our acts to cover up with; the fierce one, the happy one, the heartless one, the mysterious one. We rarely break down for anyone, we rarely even let each other see our weaknesses. Tonight it was the know-it-all one who nearly crashed my own facade.

Characteristically, he made a twisted comment before thinking over how it would sound to me. I was hit, but too stubborn in my act to lay down and accept the cut. I moved away and shamelessly watched the voice with the thrilling hair, soon finding myself in that predictable place with the same old rush.

Don't ever let anyone take your scene kid smile from you. I know how hard you have worked for just those few songs in a set. I know that it's probably the only place you feel safe, at home. Maybe it's the only place you feel it is okay to be sad in, the only time it's alright to drop your act. So don't let any ill-tongued motives take it away from you. Your slow motion moments are yours to make however big or small you want to remember them as.

That being said...

Dear Long Island kids,
Bands are going to stop touring through here if you don't all quit being a bunch of bitches. 40 faces for the local band, down to 7 for TRC, down to just me, Mike, and Travis for SSDC? Really? These bands want to play for you, get off your lazy asses and come out to their shows. Otherwise, I hope you'll be happy with a collective lame identity and no reasons to get away from your nagging parents.
Loooveeee, Terica.

Thaaat being said...

Dear Secret Secret Dino Club,
If you want kids to stay at your show, maybe don't treat them like you don't give a shit. Thanks.
Loooveeee, Terica.


I spent Wednesday night in a place I've spent maybe a thousand others. This venue would be so different in memory and experience if it ever rendered any cell phone service for me at all. But time stands still at the Vibe Lounge and all outside going ons must wait until after the rock show. I kind of like it that way. I feel, at home. When you're hear, you're hear. A touring drummer warms up behind us and I glance at MikeCondition. He rolls his eyes at my smile. I can be just so predictable sometimes.

Dear Long Island music scene,
Please stop giving up. I believe in you and you're making me look like an idiot. I wanna trip and fall into

Love.




...Terica.
"This Is Now" by: The Right Coast

Oh, Dakota.

The maine thing we kings have learned while searching the city is to never shout never and to keep building that rocket to the moon. If you should find yourself at an all time low, hop in a cab and start again.











tomorrow A Rocket To The Moon's album "On Your Side" comes out. It is...well, you be the judge and let me know. <3 Terica

Am I too dirty? Am I too flirty? Do you like what I like?

I'm avoiding the 2 things I actually have to be writing and watching Pats-Broncos instead. No, I do not want to talk about the Red Sox. In fact don't mention them to me until April, which is when I'll probably stop wanting to march J-Pap to the guillotine. Dammnit! My friends say I have anger issues, but I just don't see it. Anyways, a friend recently wrote a rather introductory tumblr of himself. I thought maybe I should do the same, so here's 20 things you may know about me, but probably don't.

1.) Hardly anyone calls me Erica. They call me Terica, short for Tericadactyl. Or Ricky, or just Rick. Or Ica, E-Mart, Casey, or Mikey. Fun fact; when I was 4 years old I wanted to be called Cindy and refused to answer to anything else. My mother got questioned on the premises of abduction after a hissy fit in Toys-R-Us. But it wasn't my fault, I was Cindy. Not Erica.

2.) I'm deeply addicted to coffee, though sometimes I quit long enough to give attention to the Captain.

3.) I've read To Kill A Mockingbird 6 times. It's my favorite.

4.) There are 4 bleecher seats from the old Fenway Park bolted into my parents' living room floor. They threw out a church pew to make room for them.

5.) I'm really bad at telling stories, audibly. There's really only one person who always pretends to listen anyways.

6.) I choreographed every song on Madonna's Immaculate Collection and performed them on my grandmother's porch the summer I was 6 years old. In September, my mom put me in dance classes.

7.) I am the friendliest psychopath you'll ever meet.

8.) As a toddler I had plenty of stuffed animals, but I carried around a baseball card of Jesse Barfield. I have no idea where I got it and he wasn't a Red Sox so idk why my dad let me keep it, but when I fell and skinned my knees I'd cry for "My Jesse."

9.) I always have holes in my tights. Nate says, never trust a girl with no holes in her tights.

10.) I say "Nate says" a lot.

11.) I have a secret obsession with Peter Cetera. OMg I love him.

12.) I was blue when I was born. Very blue. And I had a full head of spiky black hair that just wouldn't go any where's but up. My uncle coined me the Punk Rocker. My mom says it was foreshadowing.

13.) I fall in love easily. Radio lets me know when it's only a crush.

14.-15.) I like the color yellow and watching the same movies over and over again.

16.) I ask too many questions.

17.) I act out a lot too.

18.) When things get really bad, and I'm too confused, I run away. To Boston, my favorite place in the world and the only city I'll ever trust. I like the air, I like the cobblestone. I like walking Newbury Street on Saturday nights.

19.) I believe with my whole heart in things you think are ordinary.

20.) I once ran over my little brother with a go-cart. He was kinda mad at me.






Now you know me. Or at least it's a start.

...Terica.
"Grace Kelly" by: Mika

...And that's what I do it for

On a bad day, take a seat in Row 4 and let This Condition make you laugh till you cry. Works for me.

We're on our way to a show in New Jersey and first they fight about a smell. Who stepped in the death fruit that grows in Mike's front yard?! Not I, I know better. Touch them, kick them, or even look at them and you WILL instantly wreak of shit. Next they argue about Miley Cyrus' better looks: Does she look hott enough in the video for "Party in the USA" to make up for her cankles? The world may never agree. The first controversy I take part in is a discussion about Johnny Gomez of the Summer Set. I'll be damned if Nate gets his attentions too. It happens all the time in and out of venues. The boys I like...like to talk to Nate. Luckily, I adore him more than I ever will any of them. Mike says tonight I have to put up some pretty stiff competition if I want to have any chance. Thanks, bfg, you're so much help. I always thought I'd have to compete with the skinny gorgeous girls of the world, but my main concern is a saucy male singer.

"The brave may not live forever, but the scared do not live at all." It's paraphrased. I try my best to remember it when I'm somewhere where the Johnny Gomez's of the world are walking around. TJ, Rossi, and I were the lucky 3 taken to this free show in the quad at New Jersey Institute of Technology. This show - with the tour package of A Rocket To The Moon and The Summer Set - has capabilities. Possibilities, yes. Expectations, never. It's my secret to scene stamina. I'm excited, but chill. Composed.

I saw Nick Santino cross the street as our van strolled up for load in. I'd like to report that I took a deep breath and smiled smugly, totally keeping my cool...but that would be a complete lie. I fell off the seat in Row 4 and covered my mouth to filter the giggles.

What is it that makes us girls giggle over guys? Why do we spill over in smiles but still try to act all mysterious and sexy. Why don't they giggle over us? What do guys do when they have a crush? Do they write songs? The ones I know probably do. In basements and backseats of vans. Or U-Hauls.

After many occurrences; a stiff t-shirt, a wet green room, a loud kick drum, a disheartening comment, a cover song, 6 shout outs and a short circuit later, I was sitting on a park bench, side stage for A Rocket To The Moon's sound check and set. Those of you who have been living outside the parking lots of Long Island might have not heard me profess my adoration for Rocket, Nick, and especially their song Dakota, but they're definitely a favorite. You should just take my word for it and imagine the jitters as I watch them all from feet away. The new songs were sweet, the old ones sweeter, and as expected, a smile louder than any of the amplifiers. But no, not mine. Their lead singer's.

I did not talk to Nick Santino this evening. I ran into him, literally, and did keep up some worthy eye contact. But when I roped TJ into approaching Nick with me, I backed out of talking to him. Not many have seen the shy Terica and few expect me not to push boundaries. But tonight, one sight was enough.

The kids were gone and the vans were pulled around for load out. I watch Nick climb a grassy hill and tug at one huge road case. He pulled it past the bench I'd been sitting on and pushed off to ride it down the hill's sidewalk and across the quad. A certain Long Island band had me thinking that contracted musicians never lifted their own equipment. I smile to see a redhead with a red case. I smile to be mistaken. I guess he can make up his own words.

On the ride home, This Condition made me laugh to the point of tears. They sang "Angel" by Sarah McLachlan. Then they discussed her involvement in the animal cruelty commercial, claiming it was overly graphic and had ruined the song for them forever. First thing they agreed on all night.

What is it about boys that make me giggle? I don't know, but I'm sure when I finally figure it out, I'll be laughing from Row 4.






...Terica.
"She's Killing Me" by: A Rocket To The Moon
"The Boys You Do (Get Back At You)" by The Summer Set...just bc I cannot get it outta my head!

my name in your book of, 'who's whos'

I'm working on weeding through the Book and a half I wrote on tour with This Condition this summer, but I'm quite distracted. I'd rather be cutting up clothes, or playing with hair dye. I'd rather not be nervous about tomorrow, and viscously reading about Sid and Nancy, Johnny R, DeeDee, Joey, Malcolm, and Vivienne. If you can say who all these people are, text me immediately and be my valentine. I'm sitting here distracted thinking of how I'd much rather have been in their era, beating the shit outta everybody who crossed me and doing things just to get a reaction. But instead I'm in this era, with tools obsessed with hooks over messages and twirpy drummers who run their mouths. If Johnny were here, he'd fix him. I sit here writing the secrets of anyone who crosses me and posting things just to get a reaction. Ok. So these eras are not completely different. But there was better style in theirs.

My current Book was abducted last night by two very brave personalities. I say brave because they're crazy if they think one of them won't be feeling repercussions. I'm not sure whether to get even with Matt for holding it, or like him for having the respect to give it back. Anthony was the original guilty party, snatching the Book from my bag while I innocently drew a picture of Matt 'wizarding'. (see @matthewincolor for reference) Someone's going to pay for the knot I eventually went to sleep with. In the end, I got the Book back by trading Matt the favor of turning on the air conditioner. Special thanks to MikeCondition for his urgent comparative skills (he told Matt the Book was like Pandora's box), BigCityJustin for being no help at all, and Nathen Frosting for not even answering his phone. Just remember what Mr. Rotten said, "Anger is an energy."






...Terica.
"I'm Not Your Stepping Stone" by: The Sex Pistols

my lack of words and lack of better taste

So it's 5:35 am. I'm not at Matt Villani's. Instead I'm watching videos of my all my favorite Long Island boys, listening to their music and trying to decide whether I'm full of shit or not. The verdict has to be reached.

Something that's real. Hm.

I'm the kind of girl who hears a drop and runs out to driveway pavement to see if they came, just because they once promised they would.

The rain outside my window makes me miss them terribly. It pierces me in a numb way, if that makes any sense at all. And I can't do anything about it. I knew we'd only have a moment right from the start, but being expectant and being accustomed are two very different things. I'll never get used to people leaving me 5 boys at a time. I wish I'd lied, but I always wait for rain.

I'm the kind of girl with a ring in her ear, rather than on her finger.

So Mike I've been thinking, you should go back to just hitting the chord at the end of the first chorus, forget the rake. It has nothing to with the fact that you've never scored higher than a 7 in rake cleanliness, or that you make a really dumb face when it goes sour. I'm just sayin'. I think that detail would help me believe in the lyrics more, cuz with this noise in my head the only part I've heard lately is about the money and the miles.

I'm the kind of girl who talks about music when she's really just trying to get you to stay a little longer.

Someone asked me how I could write these things. How I could have the nerve to believe in a scene and its music, its musicians, and put words to their existence. My reality is that I have to go upstate to my hometown this weekend. There are grandmas staying in the hospital, mothers and cousins getting ready to check in. Brothers that haven't talked to me in weeks, and uncles that think I've lost my damn mind. There are ex-boyfriends waiting for answers that I just don't have to give and of course, there are no friends on account they gave up on my promises long ago. So let me ask you: why wouldn't I write about Long Island band boys? They're my favorite. Why not stay up till 6am listening to these songs if it makes 11:11 come sooner? I've been battling my head over what is and what is not good enough to write here because that someone needed to scream at me in order to make himself feel better. But I think he's the one who's actually full of shit. Go away, I'm busy picking petals out.

Something real at 6 in the morning? Ha, everything's real at this hour.




...Terica.
"Catastrophe" by: Big City Lights

[ fierce bitches.* ]

Friday afternoon I was sitting on a couch around the corner from Hot Topic in Roosevelt Field mall. I was waiting for a friend but, Jeffree Star got there first. Cheers, thrills, and shrills, came rising up out of the already brilliant line of his fans. The last time I saw that much glitter in one place I was going for gold at Dance Explosion All-States.

Connections are everything, dahling.

This Condition met the lovely JStar this summer at Warped Tour. Ask them for stories, I'm definitely not at liberty to repeat. With those experiences in the bag, the dauntless Stevie Keyes strolled up to Madame Star's bus and I dunno, just shot the breeze with the likes I suppose. When I met up with him inside, he handed over one free wristband from Miss Star and told me to do with it what I like. Now, I was honestly going to sell it. 5 bucks? 10? But a good pair of friends of mine convinced me otherwise. I was having a bad afternoon. I was standing sideline of this pinked out event still ditched and not having fun. So why not kick up a little glitter by my own standards? Let me tell you, I could not have done it without MeganDHTBA and JJ [fierce bitches.*]

*note: in return for taking in an orphaned outfit and making a diva out of me, Megan and JJ will from now on be proceeded by the applicable term "fierce bitches."

SO.
Where was I?
Oh right, Megan and JJ [fierce bitches.*]...

...let me stand in line with them. Why not use a free wristband? Why not get right in the action and report to my readers as a eye witness? There was only onee tiny problem.

I don't do well when meeting celebrities.

Pro athletes at the game, one thing. The Maine over a series of days, ok. Nate Smith one-on-one convo, not so much. Jeffree Star without Cyph? Oh hell no. I was mostly fine until we turned the corner and could actually see the front of Hot Topic. What am I doing? Is this really necessary? Do I have to talk? No, JJ [fierce bitch*] you just talk. NO! I AM NOT going to say I know Nathen! Wait. Is it he or she? NO! Megan [fierce bitch*] you CANNOT ask her. Him. Her?!?!

I was panicked. They were stressed. I was also almost awed to tears when Megan and JJ [fierce bitches*] said I could be in their picture with Jeffree. This Condition has the best and sweetest fans in the whole wide world. And space too. And, whatever is beyond space. The three of us watched as glam-ateers and chroma babies came out one after another with the same adoring face clenching their new most prized possession; an autographed Jeffree Star poster. We smiled at their cuteness. I marveled at their honesties. Then it was our turn to go in. And I choked on my own spit.

Yes, we got all got an autograph. We got a picture too. The celebrity was extremely chill and nice. But all you really need to know is that Jeffree Star is everything he promises to be. He's pretty much everything I wish I could promise to be, but am not so poignant in proving it. Jeffree has dyed hair, painted makeup, graffitied skin and a posed fierce identity. And people hate him for all of it. Yet the appeal to me lies immediately in the fact that he is so completely invented. That in all the fakeness, Miss Jeffree Star is one of the most real things I have ever witnessed kids screaming over. They love the opportunity to relate. Whether they actually do or not is another story. I am a sold fan to the About Me on the Jeffree Star myspace. I'm an even bigger fan of the strength it takes to be that bold and brash every single day. Plus.....you wishh you could pull off hair like that. Miss Jeffree Fucking Star.






...Ricky.
"Prisoner" by:...I mean, obviously.

This could be the rush you're waiting for.

I woke up this morning when it was still dark out. I was about to roll over and go back to sleep when I realized it was near lunch and my hair was over my eyes. C'est la Scene.

Things. They never go as planned. In my extensive research I have found plans that go right in the beginning usually fall out in the end and plans that fail in the beginning...usually turn out great by bedtime. My Friday night, take 2.

Following the gallant JStar event, my arms and legs were heavy with disappointment. Not, of course, from any short comings of the mystifying mistress. No, my disappointment was in the fact that a few words from a head of pink and orange could make me feel better than my friends could. That I needed to fake a smile on a night with so many options like this. I made a phone call that knocked me farther down than I had been pre-signing line and soon my disappointment reached my eyes. I took my poster and I to the car.

One tragic text war and 5 very loud songs later I was parked outside Broadway mall. I was late but a mess. An unpresentable mess. Then, one new text message. An incentive. I fixed my makeup.

Inside there were 3 Grandma's making their presence known. In plush track suits and short cuts styled to a tee...they were pushing young scene jerks out of the way so they could see their grandson. I liked the grannys, they were badass. After talking to the guitarist I still don't understand whose Grandma was there and whose wasn't. But shawty in the black said she was wanted to see the drummer and I wasn't about to cross her. Yes, the kids were squinting and elderly were singing. I was at a Big City Lights show.

It was turning out to be BCL vs. The Fire Marshal as Hot Topic employees cut off capacity and turned people away at the door. I started to wonder if we were dealing with Broadway Mall or Ozone Entertainment when not even Mrs. BigCityJustin was allowed in. Good guys always win in the end though. At least in my blog they do. I would like to say that Big City Lights won over the dilemma with sweetly delivered smooth talk... but I kinda think they just decided to play 2 sets and everyone went along with it.

Their first set was enjoyable, despite yes, awkward quietness in the crowd and The Singer's babbling between song banter. It was cute, and I hardly think anyone minded. Except for MattInColor, who had to remind him to, "Playyy your songs!" I felt a small smile.

@thisisricky Right where I should be.

It didn't matter what they played (although Popular Demand is both mine and AntInColor's favorite). It didn't even really matter how they sounded. There were 4 boys and 4 instruments in front of me and there was a time when that alone would've fixed anything going on with me. When did I start underestimating the sight of a singer with a guitar? The scene girl came after the singer. Some might say.


My things for tonight aren't going as planned. I have a +1 to the Relient K show at the Donkey, but. I just can't seem to hold onto a 1. Yet I feel shows like this won't be around forever and hair like mine really shouldn't go to waste. So hurry up...get outta bed. Break the rules before something goes the way it's supposed to.





...Ricky.
"Turn The Knife" by: Big City Lights

there's a wine glass in the front hedge.

Dear Hiccups,
get out of Candace.


Loooovvvee,
Terica, AnthonyInColor, JustJoeyFox, NewKidChris, and Cando.








"As Long As You Love Me" by: Backstreet Boys