We're crashing up, I'm falling again. Well the summer came, and then it swept us away.

Once again- no kids at Vibe. The Club Loaded boys don't wanna be here, I don't even wanna be here. There is a crowd of people one person deep at the bar. I can't even roll my eyes when I turn away from the stage because there are parents video taping and relatives saving seats for a band 5 years older than I. "He's a lyrical genius" a mother says. I smile and nod and walk away as quickly as possible. I'm pissed off today, sick of the local drama and sleepy from taking the fall for it. A singer smiles and snags me for a cigarette outside. Finally someone making a little sense in my world.

I'm here to see Hollywood Lies. To me they are boys from Warped Tour, the good faces that steadied my tour-wind summer. Now I realize I've missed them. I miss seeing the same different people every morning. I realize I'm starting to go stir crazy on this island in an stubborn scene with unreliable band boys. But I'm standing here freezing in runned tights and bleached hair trying to pretend it's all fine and trying to get lost in the tour coming through tonight.

Have you ever heard a band and been able to see the future? Every next kiss, every last night. Maybe it's cuz they're all cute. Maybe because it's cuz they're all hungover. Kings of the power stance and advocates of the head bang, City Lights is sure to make your guilty conscious smile. They sure surged out all that Long Island scene frustration that's been building up in me since the end of summer tours. I love the way their frontman handles the small crowd, allowing inside jokes with his tourmates (no doubt inklings of the bottom of previous night's bottles), but not totally forfeiting the set from lack of fans. Secret Secret Dino Club could leanr something from them. Plus their drummer seems to be just the right amount of everything. I start to like something about this place tonight.

And then. A Shakira intro. Nothing like a little Shakira to shake your saddness away. I've never seen Hollywood Lies play. I've never seen them do anything but cheer me up. So when I lifted my chin to watch their set, I didn't know what I'd end up writing...

His fingers have all the assests I love in a singer. And though he has a serious battle with the microphone stand, I can't stop watching him. He's clumsy onstage; getting his wires tangled, stubbing his toe on the rock box, and having a similar battle with the drum mic. When I ask he says it was the small stage, still I wonder if there's outside circumstances affecting him. His babyface tries to assue me so I let him have his secret. After all, I still keep mine from him.

Johnny..looks like he's ready to jump into a pick up game of hoops. But damn. If I'd have known he played like this I would've stepped aside in those Warped selling wars that made us friends. He is such a fun drummer to watch. No predictability in his live movement, great hair flips, and oo...one little stick drop. He laughs it off. Johnny Fuckin Barbas is a drummer you go see. Good Form.

It's not totally unpredicatble but they swiftly play a cover song, and Marc switches with Matt to play "Low" by Flo'Rida. The second I see a singer duck under the guitar strap, I forget all about the idiots making a mess of Long Island. Not only do these boys of summer semi-surprise me, but they sound sick doing it. Oh snap, Hollywood Lies.

Fast forward to this morning.

The smell of cologne and clean boys trails out of the bathroom and into where I sleep. Everything about it comforts me. Perhaps it is a reflection of the gender ratio I grew up with. Or maybe it's a reminder of the ex-boyfriends who were able to hold me calm. Regardless, my bedroom smells like boys and I wish there were some physicality attatched to it. Yet every morning I have their text messages, not them. Every gift is a curse and every blessing a heartache. I woke up this morning with a heartache and knew just which kind it was. Today things would be different, again. Loss of appetite, loss of singers, loss of lucky blue pen. So I reached for my phone and began to face it all, missing that same kind of different.

My lifestyle is so fleeting, unstable. It's what I bargained for, I knew what I was getting into- mostly. Live fast, die young. The first part I'm doing well, the second I'm still waiting on. I feel like I'll get struck and run over by a tour bus...oo, I hope it's the Maine's. Until then, everything and everyone floats away too quickly and frankly, I'm afraid to get lost in the stratosphere. I feel like it'd resemble some sort of airy purgatory with helium balloons everywhere and Kevin Bard's voice playing constantly. Don't let me go there! What I really want is to be held still for just one hour. I want someone to witness my existence the way I do theirs. But between tours and band meetings, other girls and twitter updates, my chosen family doesn't really have time to sit still with me. And I know this- I knew what I was getting into. So I am left here with this blog as my witness, casting confessions in effort to anchor myself down to something. Anything. My secret.

I lied to you when I said I never listened to your ep. I listened to it every dusk in the van trying to drown out that desert heat.



...Terica.
"Secrets" by: Hollywood Lies

note: both Cerney and Mess submitted quotes to be included in this blog. One I can post, one I can't. It is my creative decision to let your mind wander...