Waylon Jennings & Willie Nelson - Luckenbach, Texas

I've got my song and I got you with me tonight

The best thing about today was X singing this to me in our hotel room-

The only two things in life that make it worth livin'
Is guitars that tune good and firm feelin' women
I don't need my name in the marquee lights
I got my song and I got you with me tonight
Maybe it's time we got back to the basics of love



X is so silly. Shirtless in a pair of basketball shorts. tattoos covering his arms and chest, he fakes a twang and doesn't really concentrate on the chords.


And it was sweet, but also sorta ironic. Should we get out of this? Would we be fools to give this up? Sitting in that  room on our day off ,both too tired to do anything but take long baths, watch bad tv and stretch out on our king sized bed! 

I played Journey's Faithfully (They say the road ain't no place to start a family/ right down the line it's been you and me/ loving a music man ain't always what it's suppose to be...) at the venue last night. There was a piano in his dressing room. I've played since I was a little girl. I consider it my party trick backstage, but would never want to play onstage. X's band does have some ballads, but nothing to the caliber of November Rain or anything. I have crippling stage fright. I would cry if anyone made me stand up infront of a say 200 people let alone thousands.

I think I'm gonna try this.

I am frustrated with trying to explain things here, or else I really don't like how things look on paper... I don't want to be " Fragment ideas and too many pronouns. Stop it, come on. You're not making sense now. You can't make them want you. They're all just laughing ..." So I think I might try to do some of theses... pillaged from writetodone.com

1. Talk to a monkey. Explain what you’re really trying to say to a stuffed animal.
2. Do something important that’s very easy.
3. Try free writing.
4. Take a shower; change clothes. Give yourself a truly clean start.
5. Write from a persona. Lend your voice to a writing personality who isn’t you.
6. Get away from the computer. Take pen and notebook, and go somewhere new.
7. Quit beating yourself up. You can’t create when you feel ass-whipped.
8. Stop visualizing catastrophes, and focus on positive outcomes.
9. Stretch. Maybe try vacuuming your lungs.
10. Add one ritual behavior. Get a glass of water exactly every 20 minutes. Do push-ups. Eat a Tootsie Roll every paragraph. Add physical structure.
11. Listen to new music. Try something instrumental and rhythmic that you’ve never heard before.
12. Write crap.
13. Finish something.
14. Write the middle. Stop whining over a perfect lead, and write the next part or the part after that.
15. Do one chore. Sweep the floor or take out the recycling. Try something lightly physical to remind you that you know how to do things.
16. Make a pointless rule. You can’t end sentences with words that begin with a vowel. Limits create focus and change your perspective.
17. Work on the title. Quickly make up five distinctly different titles. Meditate on them. What bugs you about the one you like least?
18. Write five words. Literally. Put five completely random words on a piece of paper. Write five more. Try a sentence. Could be about anything. A block ends when you start making words on a page.

Bullet For My Valentine - Hearts Burst Into Fire

Bullet for My Valentine - Bittersweet Memories (HD w/ Lyrics)

Everybody says you’ve gotta know your enemies

Even if they only weigh a hundred pounds and stand five foot three
If you just smile and behave you can always get your way

 I know I'm sorta obsessive about groupies, but wouldn't you be? They're like fucking zombies popping out of nowhere to devour my brains and even if I never wear my seat belt and double tap they will still try to kill me.  I like to think of a quote I once saw/heard ( I don't remember which) from Sheryl Cooper. It was something like " when he's home he's mine when he's in public he belongs to them." I respect that for the most part. But home to us is a bunk and a hotel room. So there is a sort of blurring of lines. I guess she went thought the same thing touring with him for all those years.

Not to mention X is the nicest guy in the band. He is the one who will sign autographs and pose for pics while his bandmates leave him to go get wasted and hit on groupies. I think they sorta throw him to the wolves, but I also think his sweetness is why I love him. Sometimes I watch him hugging fans and  posing for pictures. It's sweet I'm not gonna lie, because he doesn't have to do it. There is of course security. But still the busty super skanks get away with more. One tried to french kiss him and he just looked horrified and backed away. He actually called her a crazy bitch. ( she did not jump in bed with fame...) I think for him it's hard to determine when he needs to stop being nice, but I'm proud of him when they push and he pushes back. The sad thing is I probably wouldn't of ripped her off him. I would of just stood there horrified. I'm not a crazy Faith Hill hair pulling type.

I read a quote today from a celebrity wife who's husband often tours. She said she has to keep her friends close. That people say that their husband is their best friend don't apply to her. Her best friend is her best friend. Part of me felt sad for her. My husband is my best friend. I don't think I could stand it if he wasn't. Ok, that sounds psychotic. I have a hard time explaining this... I see that clearly with this thing. I don't know how to explain the bond X and I have. More and more with this post I want to type his real name. I keep catching myself. XXXXXX. Ok I'm better.

It's all part of my rock n roll fantasy...

 I knew that I loved my husband when I realized I was no longer in love with the man in Jewel's Foolish Games. For so long I feel in love with him every time she sang it- totally ignoring her wails that he was breaking her heart. I think if I was faced with a man who thought that philosophy was an art and who was moved by baroque and loved Mozart I wouldn't know what to say to him. I'd figit in my seat and tie my show laces in knots like a awkward teen visiting a shrink.

I like my husband's job. I like that it's art and performance and that he's loved and talented and has fans. I'm proud of him. I love that he has the balls to put himself out there like that. I love how he treats me. I love that we can make this work all while practically being Siamese twins. Before we were married and he started on this tour, well let me go back father.. After we met and he finished that tour and the time we decided this was the all encompassing love we were looking for, we had plenty of those teary I wish you were here I miss you, long distance calls that are so frustrating. And even though this is hard it isn't as hard as it would be if we were apart.

I'm starting to realize that I will never fit in in certain social circles. I feel uncomfortable in any situation that entails society or morals, or girlie girls. I'm most comfortable in all reality where I am... backstage. I worked for a venue when I met my husband... that is how I met him. I loved working backstage and being part of the show. Now I'm on tour and I have no purpose. I just sorta hang out with him. It's his job.

Dirty laundry...

"Dirty little secrets, dirty little lies
We got our dirty little fingers in everybody's pie
Love to cut you down to size, we love dirty laundry" 
                                   -Don Henley Dirty Laundry

They hate the truth.

This song used to be my ringtone. Never did I think it would end up applying to my life as much as it does right now. Again I have my own ideas about how this song came to be. Gerard is known for being nice and being loved by the young emo girls. But after so many warped tours anyone would go back to their bus and write this.I had a coworker who had a  13 year old who were obsessed with him! He was old enough even then to be her dad! And it is true they aren't happy till someone bleeds. Teenagers are ruthless and cyber communities make them fearless. As much as they say they love you, they're just waiting for you to bleed. Nobody is happy till you bleed! 

I know my husband ( who will now be known as X) doesn't read anything they write about him. I on the other hand get bored and Google him. I think the kids are kinda cute for the most part. My husband and I are both in our mid to late 20s and I am not fearful of the teens at all. It's the drunk, crazy, social climbing ( ?), groupie sluts that scare me. How would you feel if your husband's job was to be nice to women who go to his work and show him their tits? Girls who absolutely do not care that he is married, because they believe that he would be happier with them. Or rather they'd be happy with him. The thing is they don't know X.

X's band is modeled after the hard drinking girls and booze bands of the late 80s. All about hoes and blow. Harley's and trashing hotel rooms. They of course ( you actually probably don't know this) aren't as wild as they lead the press to believe. If they were that wild they'd probably be dead . I think of a quote from Axel Rose in Hit Parader that said,

How’s this? Fuck you… No one would print a story you’d write. You’d write that I was sober, honest and probably intelligent. They hate the truth.

Here is the truth about X: 
His father is a famous studio musician. He father could of been a rock star but choose not to. He has been married to X's mom for 30+ years. X  had a very boring average child hood considering that he grew up in LA LA land with famous rock stars. X is a classically trained musician. He sorta sees this as fun and games. He never worked for this job.( I know! Gasp he never wanted I never wanted... people are out there dying to have what we have. Where is the justice in this world!?) He is just that good that they asked him to do it. His bandmates are guys he grew up with. They are as close as brothers. His father has installed a fear of fame in him. It's sorta a rebellion I guess you could say, for him to join a band, make videos, tour, be a rock star...  Because of this X wants a normal (ish) life. He wanted to get married. He wants kids. He doesn't think that things have to get weird.Snorting blow off a hookers ass doesn't really appeal to him. But if you see him on stage, dyed, painted, and styled. You would never think any of this is true.

  

I got a new low...

Last night I was sitting in catering and I starting thinking about how I should start stealing forks. I was admiring this fork and mind you this is fucking craft services and this is no way a spectacular fork. It would totally be a power thing. It would be them against me and who is gonna win that? uh huh me. Then I started thinking about coming off tour with a suitcase full of forks and how bat shit crazy would I look when that happens..

The static comes in slow.

I was walking backstage last night and venue employees were smiling at me. I wonder if they knew who I was or if they were just covering their ass encase I was someone important. I starting thinking about what I was a part of and how fleeting our art is. I'm from a theatre background and the momentum of it always bothered me. I hated that we worked so hard for something that was so fleeting. There were times when I wanted to go back to sets I loved or shows I loved and watch them again, but they were gone. Dismantled and whisked away never to be whole again. My life is still like that. It's so fleeting I've stopped caring. Though the plot is dictated by the audience for the most part and the fantastic show is one where they are really into what we are doing. In general it's the same set list, same costumes, same, same. same, yet fleeting. It's like flashing a mob of people and running away to do it to another group in another town. Yet they are begging you to stay. If we did stay they'd be like- yawn... that is so yesterday. I always thought the Toad the Wet Sprocket song Walk on the Ocean was about being on tour. Just the verse-
half and hour later we packed up our things
we said we'd send letters and all those little things
and they knew we were lying but they smiled just the same
it seemed they'd already forgotten we'd came

And that is the truth. As much as you love us we're gonna be gone tomorrow and you will go back to your home, go to work or school and live the life you had before we came. And by next week you might of even forgotten our name.