I've been talking about...
You say that New York winters
are killing you with cold,
But isn't it better to be
frozen than old?
Inside you're afraid,
you're scared and you're cold
But outside you're fighting and friendly and bold.
You've got a heart condition telling you,
That the best of all our years
And that if we go on fighting it you
Only manage to break even, but I do...
Depend on you to show me
Because I can't rise above on my own today.
So be my hero,
be that kind of man,
And if you can't believe,
at least understand
You've got it covered,
you're still the man.
You've got it together,
you've got our plan.
And I depend on you
to show me the way,
Because I can't rise above
on my own today
Yeah, I can't rise above...
Not on my own...
"Do you, um, speak English?" Michael asked, with a hopeful expression. He was getting kind of desperate here.
"Non." The Frenchman fixed him with an icy stare.
"Habla espanol?" the musician tried when his English failed. Michael didn't speak entirely fluent Spanish, but he spoke enough of it that he could ask for directions to the venue they were supposed to be playing at.
The Frenchman threw up his hands and let out an stream of incomprehensible words in his native tongue. As near as Michael could figure from the tone, the man had just called him a crazy tourist. He stomped off, still muttering to himself.
How they'd wound up getting lost on their way from the hotel to the show, Michael didn't know. They'd taken a wrong turn down one of these incomprehensible streets, and Mac had forgotten to charge the GPS, if it would even work here. Now they were trying to find someone who spoke English well enough to direct them. After a few more failed attemps, he rejoined his bandmates to see if any of them had better luck.
"I found a guy that spoke English," Jules said. But before they could get excited about that, he added "Four words of it. Baseball, Cowboy, American, and Fuck."
Mac snorted. "Maybe we can retrace our path, find the turn we missed."
Michael nodded his agreement to that plan. It was far better than trying to communicate in a language he couldn't speak.
"I knew we should've taken French in high school," Jules moaned as they all piled back into the van.
Not the first time he's stayed up till dawn, but this time Michael's sober. Clean as the morning air. He's up to watch the sun rise over the lake.
Daybreak finds him thirty-five, no longer a young indie darling.
"It's beautiful," he says to no one as light colors the horizon vivid shades.
The first day of his new life as a 'rockstar' dawns on him alone. The band's all asleep.
Last night he signed a major label contract. The kids will call it 'selling out.'
The sun sparkles through the water like diamonds. Michael shades his eyes.
"I found what I was looking for."
To be fair, I thought I had at the time. We were in Mexico, in an abandoned little town that my mother had sent me a postcard from once, a long time ago. I thought that was it for me and dealing with my mother, but I was wrong.
"Don't go. Don't leave me..."
She didn't stay anyhow, and it just made me look kind of pathetic. Both times I said this - once when my mother left (I was 14) and once when my ex left after we'd lived together for three years.
"I'm fine. It's okay."
When Mac asked my permission to marry my ex. I wasn't really fine. It wasn't really okay for quite some time after that.
"Sure, I'd be honored."
When Mac asked me to be the best man at his wedding to my ex. Yeah, still wasn't really okay with that- and didn't go too well.
"In the highly unlikely event that I do, it won't be with you."
Jules had told me that I'd have other relationships. Had just kissed me. I don't know, it was an asshole thing for me to say - I knew he was in love with me then and had been since, hell forever. I'd figured that out, somewhere along the cycle of sleeping with him whenever I got too lonely. He was always my friend, but it never meant anything to me like he wanted it to. I still feel bad about that, even now when we've both sobered up and got someone else and all this is past. I was in my asshole stage when I said this.
"Go fuck yourself..."
Said to one Dawn Randal, a fan of our music who was unlucky enough to be there the night I had my breakdown. I also vomited on her (just a little). Was not pretty. Wound up all over the internet.
"I don't care if you ever come back..."
To Jules, when he left the band to work on his solo album, after I had that little breakdown. Obviously, I did care. At least we got things back together after I got out of rehab. Heh.
"I'll talk to him about it."
When Annie wanted me to talk to her dad about continuing to tour with us instead of going to college. Mac was none too thrilled.
"Three festivals is fine."
No, three festivals is never fine. Festivals are exhausting, especially when they're so close together in the midst of an already way too long tour. One festival per tour, new rule forever. When we get done with this summer tour (just over two more weeks now), I am going to curl up with Wolf and sleep for at least a week. No interviews, no practices, no nothing. Me, Wolf, and four non-mobile, non-changing walls around us. End story.
|My LiveJournal Trick-or-Treat Haul|
|michael_malone goes trick-or-treating, dressed up as piranah plant.|
|adalia_krause gives you 12 light blue passionfruit-flavoured jawbreakers.|
|anold_soul tricks you! You get a broken balloon.|
|hraith gives you 14 blue root beer-flavoured gummy worms.|
|magicanyway gives you 1 light yellow spearmint-flavoured wafers.|
|metody_green tricks you! You get a broken balloon.|
|reluctantdagny gives you 9 light orange coffee-flavoured nuggets.|
|star_core tricks you! You get a toothbrush.|
|michael_malone ends up with 36 pieces of candy, a broken balloon, a broken balloon, and a toothbrush.|
|Another fun meme brought to you by rfreebern.|
I've written about my kitty, Clawdia, a few times before. Well, she started out as my kitty - about twelve years ago now? Yeah, she'd be about twelve now. I found her in the dumpster when I was working at Java the Hut - poor thing. Who would throw out a kitty like trash? I soon discovered the perfect name for her, since she came out of there claws first. Clawdia still loves to claw, but now we've got Soft Paws on her - declawing is way too mean.
When the band started going on the road a lot, I felt bad leaving Clawdia. First she stayed with Texas and his wife, but then Mrs. Tex found out she had cat allergies - so Clawdia went to stay with Jenny. And then after when Mac's daughter came to be with him - and they moved in to my father's old house - Jenny and Clawdia just sort of merged into living there. And after Jenny and I broke up, well... Clawdia just kind of went with her. And then Mac and Jenny got married, and had more kids and... yeah. So she's not really my cat anymore, even though I see her a lot and I always ask about her. Really, she's more like Annie's cat - Annie's the one she follows around such.
I miss having time with just me and Clawdia though, sometimes. I used to enjoy brushing her, and talking to her about my day. She's a very talkative cat, so she'd even mew back at me. And sometimes when I'd play my songs, she'd look at me with this look of contempt like 'Why are you wasting your time with that instead of feeding the cat?
( Past drabbles about Clawdia...Collapse )
I think I'd have to choose blind, because being deaf would make music a lot harder. Sure,they say Beethoven was deaf - but he was a genius. I'm no genius, so I need all the senses I can get when it comes to composing. I wouldn't like being sightless though - I'd miss out on a lot of the world that way. I think it'd be harder to adapt to walking around in darkness than walking around in silence, though. So that's another big downside to being blind - but I'd have to deal with it in order to keep the music going. It's pretty much the best thing I have going, so I really don't want to ass it up.
(for charloft )
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