Sunday, November 4, 2012

I still don't know how to handle this. They don't teach the elders of a scene how to handle the youth. I guess that's why it's so special when the kids latch on to someone and tell them they've saved their life. It's even more special when that person embraces and it takes them on as a band of misfits. There is no correlation between being able to play an instrument or sing and being able to handle someone else's problems.

It's hard to live in a society where Emo is a dirty word, yet that is what is stalking me at every turn.

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

“Do you remember all of your audiences?" Marco asks. 
"Not all of them," Celia says. "But I remember the people who look at me the way you do."
"What way might that be?"
"As though they cannot decide if they are afraid of me or they want to kiss me."
" I am not afraid of you," Marco says.” 
― Erin MorgensternThe Night Circus

Sunday, August 5, 2012

Existing is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

I feel asleep face down on a dingy greenroom couch today, twice. I had been up for two days straight. Exhausted beyond comprehension, and lets face it, I've left my early 20s and I'm too old for this shit. How do these guys become road warriors and do this for years upon end? Fuck, I'm tired. You know that feeling where you're dead on your feet but you have to keep moving? That is my life. It brings to mind the verse, " If you feel like you're running then you know how we feel." Travel is exhausting and that is all we do.

The first time I woke up I at first thought that Godzilla was in front of me. It was just a venue worker giving me the stink eye. She was probably wondering who the fuck I was and if I was some drunk crazy homeless broad who was passed out next to the spread of bagels and cream cheese. Well, sorta lady.

Sunday, July 8, 2012

You can't retrieve your life unless you're on Wikipedia, then you can retrieve an inaccurate version of it. 
Nora Ephron- I remember Nothing and other reflections.

Saturday, July 7, 2012

I still did not go out at night. I was too scared, to be honest. Besides, nothing out there held any interest for me. Go hang out with drunk people? No thanks. Go see a band? No, I had spent the last fifteen years touring and playing live shows. Go see a movie by myself? I was much more interested in books at this point. 
Duff McKagan- It's so easy and other lies.

Friday, July 6, 2012

I was looking up Slash, Saul Hudson, and this came up. I had no idea it had a name. My husband is the star of many slash fiction..

Saturday, June 23, 2012

X said he would prefer that someone hate them for something irrational, like that they wear make up. I guess nobody wants to be hated for what they really are. I'm not sure what there is to hate about him. The only thing I can think of is the idea that he never worked for this, but then you have to hate me too. I never set out to marry a rock star. I didn't sniff around the load in or hang out in hotel lobbies. I was just there.

I wish,  but we all know this would be insane. 

Monday, June 18, 2012

That's so weird

People make Polyvore sets about my husband. I've sorta been off of Google-ing him lately, but it's festival season and the heat makes me crazy, and I'm bored all the same. I was having a jolly good time ( sorry I've been listening to audio books of British books again...)  putting clothes together when this young bird ( it isn't going to stop OK?) started liking my work. I looked at her sets and from there I found the culprit. OK there is prob a gang of them, but I only saw one. The weird thing is the outfits weren't even really rock n roll. They were like photos of him with dresses and expensive make up and glitter and a lot of pink, which is funny because Z asked me the other day if I owned anything that wasn't black. I could ask him the same. I saw in a women's mag that when traveling you need to pack basics that you can mix and match. For the most part my clothes are all black. Everyone's is. What the fuck color is more rock n roll than black? Black on Black?

Sunday, June 17, 2012

Someone repinned my husband as a product.

Part of me really loves this, The other part of me wants to rip her hair out.
Yes he is a product, but people don't usually label him as such.

 They label him as:
Love, Band pics, Band guys, Music/Artists/Bands, Things I find attractive, Dudes I love, hotties, wish lists ( Good one), For the home ( also cheeky).

I always wonder if people are coincidentally being meta with me. Like the time I had a hit on here because someone in Googled " How to love someone famous". I couldn't of ever summed it up so neatly. Happenstance? Who's to say. I think my whole life is a happenstance.

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

I love the first part of this song

She was standing at the load in when the trucks rolled up.
She was sniffing all around
Like a half grown female pup
She wasn't hard to talk to
Looked like she had nowhere to go
So I gave her my pass
So she could get in and see the show

Well I sat her down right next to me
And I got her a beer
While I mixed that sound on stage
So the band could hear
The more I watched her watch them play
The less I could think of to say
And when they walked off stage
The drummer swept that girl away
Jackson Browne- Rosie

But not the rest. I've come to terms it's about masturbation. I think more songs should be about load outs and load ins. About roadies and groupies and all the things that make my world go around. I find it odd that all these people are " humming and strumming all over god's world" but they don't pen their day to day.
Write what you know people, it makes my heart happy.

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

It wasn't until years later that I understood. I didn't love travel because I loved Paul. I loved travel because I loved sleeping in a different place every night, feeling like the wide edge of the world was close enough to touch. 

...Obsessed over an adventurous man, but in the end realized she really just wanted the adventure. 

- Glamour May 12- What I Learned From a Seven-Year Road Trip with the Wrong Guy by Sarah McCarry.

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

“I always tell the girls never take it seriously. If you never take it seriously you never get hurt. If you never get hurt you always have fun. And if you ever get lonely, you just go to the record store and visit your friends.”
Penny Lane

If you're scared and walk away

 cause there's no need to feel ashamed,
Yeah we all feel the same.
I fell in love with rock and roll until I found out it was false,
And plastered on a face for me.

Woah, where's you passion, where's your fire tonight,
Woah, I can't believe there's nothing you're willing to hide,
Woah, I want to believe,
I set my body on fire so I could be free.

Monday, April 16, 2012

This is what keeps me here:

This video made me cry. I've been there. 

Am I a feminist icon?

Today I was putting lotion my my feet and legs and as I did so, I started to think. My job as X's wife is only to look pretty. That is pretty much all that is expected of me. The thing is I don't deliver. Not only am I not a strikingly beautiful girl, but I also don't care or try very hard. I've written before about how I don't even get dressed some days. What's the point? I'm not going to be on stage. All I'm going to be is on a bus, in a dressing room/ green room/ backstage area/ possibly not leaving the bus/ hotel ect. It's like a strange video game where you can't break out of the walls. I don't have to see anyone if I don't want to.

The thing that is infuriating/ perplexing is that X loves me. He could have any girl. Well, not any, but plenty of them or one that is much more conventionally pretty than I am. But he doesn't. Not only did he marry me, but he took me on tour with him. I guess sometimes there is something to be said about love. I couldn't outright tell you what it is that keeps X and I together. I couldn't outright tell you what it is that makes this work. I can write 100s of post about how trapped and unhappy I am.

The other day I woke up and stumbled into a  store in the early evening hours. It's times like those that I enjoy this. The feeling that I'm on tour, and nobody else here knows what that's like.

Saturday, March 17, 2012

Don't be fooled I was raised by the wolves...

We went to the movies last night. I wore my pajamas- black yoga pants, a black band shirt and a red and black flannel shirt. I just don't care. A group of frat/sorority t ype people came into the half empty theater and one of the guys said " My home theater is bigger than this." Then laughed as his own witticism. Ugh. How do you live with yourself?

I had to pee like 20 times. ( No I'm not pregnant.) On the way back to the theater the last time a group of teenagers stared at me and one said " What is she in?" I laughed to myself. I am not movie star pretty. I am not your average ex model married a rock star. At best I look like a college girl who stopped trying- more Ramona Flowers than Lexus Amanda.

Monday, March 12, 2012

Guys like us, ain't got no chance

but I'm the thing that keeps you and me alive, not forever-

A hot guy may not know how to talk to you. When women are hitting on you every night, "it fluffs up your ego, for sure," says Rick, a guitarist whose punk band plays sold-out shows around the country. " but it can make you worse at meeting girls in the usual situations, because you're not used to having to work for it." Just because a guy's good looking, doesn't mean he's got game. So just go up and introduce yourself, and be sure not to mistake shyness for arrogance.
Glamour March 2012

This reminded me of the night I met X. He kept coming up to me and asking me things. Stupid things. He later confessed that he just wanted to talk to me. He only had 6 hours to figure out what was the least creepy way of getting to know me, staying in contact with me.

Saturday, March 3, 2012

and I was overwhelmed and frankly scared as hell Because I really fell for you

You're just a hologram of yourself. They project certain traits, certain things you like. They give you clothes to play dress up in, but that's not really you up there. It's just a two dementional representation of yourself, and like some science fiction movie, it will never, and can never be all of you. I never want to be projected. I sometimes find it sureal that my spouse lives within the realms of a dual reality. It's a comfort sometimes, to know that he isn't the holographic image. You'd be wise to realize that nobody is. NOBODY. Look at the shocking tell alls. Recently I read that lady Gaga was never a stripper, homeless or anything else she used to give herself accreditation to her fans. Do I blame her? No. My husband isn't a womanizing, alcoholic, insomniac, drug addict, but you would be lead to believe otherwise. 
stage name.

Monday, February 27, 2012

“I've been making a list of the things they don't teach you at school. They don't teach you how to love somebody. They don't teach you how to be famous. They don't teach you how to be rich or how to be poor. They don't teach you how to walk away from someone you don't love any longer. They don't teach you how to know what's going on in someone else's mind. They don't teach you what to say to someone who's dying. They don't teach you anything worth knowing.” 

 ― Neil GaimanThe Sandman, Vol. 9: The Kindly Ones

Thursday, February 23, 2012

to me this says: PS I'm stalking your husband.

Oh I know! I’ve been keeping track of the setlists, and I’ll be writing a detailed overview of the whole night and also taking pictures and video. I am beyond stoked to say the least.

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Now more than ever do I realize that I will never be content with a sedentary life, that I will always be haunted by thoughts of a sun-drenched elsewhere.
Isabelle Eberhardt; The Nomad: The Diaries of Isabelle Eberhardt

Sunday, January 29, 2012

I never thought that Pink would be my go to for songs about my life...

Monday, January 16, 2012

"For a long while, what I do professionally was all that mattered to me really," he said in March. "Now I think, well, whatever I do, I'll just go back to her, and that's incredibly comforting."
Russell Brand

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

I fell down the rabbit hole

into the world of "The Manic Street Preachers" and Richey Edwards. If you're under 35, like myself, you might not know who they are. They are a pretentious Welsh band from the early 90s- to put it bluntly. Richey is a missing person, he vanished in 1995 at the age of 27. I'm not clear yet on the laws of how long someone has to be messing to be pronounced dead. I think I read that his family could of done it as early as 2002, but refused until 2008. My first thought is the whole, " maybe tell the press you died". But then I saw am image where he had carved words into his arm. And supposedly he was like the British Kurt Cobain and talked to his fans about anorexia and self harm etc.

What got me blogging about this was a comment I saw from someone who had read some Richey Edwards fanfic and deemed it disrespectful. Excuse me? How is any fanfic respectful? How is giving my husband vices and addictions and turning his life into the worst sob story known to man or making erotica about him and his best friend being lovers not disrespectful? Why is this person, who either went missing or killed himself,  beyond the parasite that is fangirls and fanfiction?  I think the whole genre is pathetic as well as those who somehow have the gall to post it.

Now I'm all hot and bothered in a froyo shop in middle America being forced Ke$ha with my chocolate peanut butter my ovaries might exploid tonight 10 dollar frozen yogurt. I'm also totally upset over reading bios of people who have famously disappeared. What if I vanish? I can't even think about how that would go down, oh yeah you know that wife of X, the one nobody really knows or sees? She's missing. Oh hasn't she been missing? Oh snap...

I want a bodyguard.

Thursday, January 5, 2012

One of the few good things about modern times: if you die horribly on television, you will not have died in vain. You will have entertained us.
Kurt Vonnegut