01/31
riding bitch

so everyone and i mean everyone was at the plan show in nyc on saturday. the chain goes like this: cj rode up with hillary who played with eric who tuned sharon's bass who ran into katya who goes steady with george, whose ass eric told me to pinch when i was in NYC a few weeks ago.

we are all living the rock star life. eric and travis -- whose lyrics, cj said, you could hear from every punk-rock boy in the room singing along -- and all the rest of us, riding in the metaphorical shotgun seat, either because they're giving us a lift or because we're both going to the same place or just cuz we dig each other, we're all sluts for the Tee Vee nation. even if we don't want to be on real world, we still have moments that should be played with a power-chord-inflicted TRL song in the background.

or: Not everyone gets their fifteen minutes of fame, but we all have something we could do with it.

a few months ago, justin was telling me about touring the country with el guapo. they'd just gotten offered a midwest tour, and since el guapo is so DCore that even people in the suburbs don't know them, i didn't get the concept. justin told me about clubs that were far away in the middle of oklahoma and utah and ohiowa, who garnered kids because there was no other show in town.

when you tour, you are the excitement. so says justin, the skinny blond boy who fits into DC like the corner square of a rubik's cube. he plays techno drums for all the emo bands in this city, and bass and horns, too, i think. it's like an aescetic's life, you in a van with only a little money. your only responsibility to play music, which if that's not a mystical occupation i couldn't tell you what is. you get girls, which i guess isn't very monastic, but you don't *really* get girls (says i shouldn't say who), because you're always moving, drifving through the nights through those corn field states that are separated only by more corn fields.

and sometimes i wonder if i'm trying too hard, too. not about my stories but in general. like my payos, which i'm still not cutting, they're down past my shoulders and if they're not a conversation topic at any given point, well there's always a reason why not.

although i'm starting to think i don't cut them because i'm afraid of change. and that, well, i'm just not going there.