Streetlight Diaries

Usually I give you guys a recap of all my moments at the end of the year; my favorite memory, my worst show, the numbers if boys I made out with… But this year I just didn’t. I worried myself sick about deadlines for Dob and assumed lost best friends and unanswered text messages, and never got around to just..breathing. Ima fretter, I make hasty decisions as long as my heart is the only one at expense and sometimes, I get lost in translations and games. But I know a few things 365 days later…

Dying your hair won’t make you stop thinking about him, but calling him will. And staying up all night won’t make her come back, but you’re worth moving on. You could write a million songs and sell a million t-shirts, drink a bottle of liquor at 9am, and some things will still just be out of your hands. But there’s a little fighter in all of us and a lotta fighter in me. The past years are in the Books, and no one can erase them. We can let them go. Carry on, go forward…in 365 days I will still be some version of a tericadactyl. What will you be? 

Thank you for supporting me throughout the year, it has been, well, Epic. Off the top of my head; best moment was…Kennedy in Chicago. And worst show was…ew I’ll let Mike’s amp and Nate’s G string battle that one out. Number of boys I made out with..well technically I have until midnight, right? Maybe I’ll save that for the New Year : )

yours…terica.

BoysLikeGirls and Valencia.

My biggest fear is that I’m making all this up in my head.

So. Who do you love?

I haven’t written lately. I’ve been…living. Ya know, I mentioned that whole ‘do it then tell you guys’ theory. It’s going alright but, I miss you. So to catch up a little, the Christmas marathon in my hometown was stellar. My 6-year old cousin and I totally nailed the Dirty Dancing lift after intense training, and I consider my life pretty much complete at this point. I did strain a knee during PingPong Warfare; a game invented by me that involves paddling said missiles at cousins without mercy or regret. It was very Bad Boys II though..which is baller. I successfully lost drunk Monopoly even after hiring an older cousin as a financial advisor for the price of one beer, and unfortunately I believe there is footage of the Charlie Daniels Band air fiddle performance. In a nutshell-  ”He’s an angry elf.” And after it was all over, I had to stop and nap for an hour on the road just to make it back to the Island in good fashion. I had to get back, there was a merch table waiting for me.

Who would you break a bet for?

With a few exceptions, everyone that I adore the most was at the Donkey last night. At first glance, they looked like faces of old; some that had held spots on the List, some that used to show up at my house every nite (scattergories sucks btw), and some that I recall staying awake all night with, while they whispered of how they were really gonna make it big someday. I used to laugh and cry with these boys, and it meant something to see them all in one place again. This Condition shirts were enough of a hot commodity that I was decently busy. That, and I took inventory. Twice. I will invent my value if I cannot name it. The point is, it was a few hours before I took a second look.

Who would you lie to, if it meant protecting them?

 I was very much surprised at second look, these faces didn’t seem old in the least. In all their hair and skinnies and scarves and black jackets…they looked like my present. My birthday present. They looked liked everything I was trying to live out and write for you guys. And a thought came to mind; I spend a lot of time looking for love for someone who is already in it. I am in love with knowing them. It isn’t really about what happened (although illustrating those times are currently fueling any sort of writing endeavors that I could possibly be charged with having.) And it’s not even really about what’s going to happen (because we know better than anyone that we hardly have complete say in that.) But it is about these looks, when I stop counting money for 2 seconds and see them all standing there by the bar, less than half of them old enough to drink from it. There they were last night; some that had texted when the shows were long and the tours longer, some that had taken my shit when they had deserved it and even when they hadn’t, and some that had really made it big afterall. Theirs were faces I had known, and still do.

Who would you give your most prized posession to?

That’s all it really takes for me to find words again, seeing all of them. I wish it wasn’t. I wish it was completely about the music for me, this love of this scene that I possess. But it is a lot about them. I always say I dye my hair when band boys break my heart or piss me off. But a heart has to be whole before it can break, maybe fuller than it had been for a long time. And what kind of Family would we be if we didn’t piss each other off every chance we got?

So. Who do you really love?

…Terica.

“Send Love” by: The Life I Lead

p.s.- who can name the movie I just watched based on this blog?

why do you do what you do? do you even really understand what it is? because I don’t.

Then I realized…I wasn’t alone.  

I think I’ve been alive for a thousand years. I feel like I was forward in colonial fashion, that I spoke out against the red coats, and that my heart raced around in the Salem witch trials. I fell in love with Jay Gatsby then Johnny Rotten, and didn’t get over either until I became a member of the Bratpack, whom I later broke away from to make a solo career for myself by crawling around the VMA stage in a wedding gown. I vaulted in the ‘96 Olympics and I moonwalked over the millennium. Could it be that I have been a farm girl, a dancer, an actress, a writer, a punk, a millionaire, an actress, an athlete, and a idol…all in 1/4 of a lifetime? Or maybe, maybe I’ve just changed niches so many times that my half-stable mind can’t keep track of it all anymore. Maybe the years of imagination have become cluttered boxes in the old attic. I wish I could find the strength to tell you about it all every night. Yet for every shred of faith I find in any sort of daily success or productivity, some ideal takes it away. I allow someone else’s ideals to take it from me.

I have the tendency to hold out until I am alone. To keep true feelings in until I shake with the desperation for expression. And for a thousand years I’ve always gone through the same routine of freaking out, shoving headphones over my head, and holding down the volume button as loud as it would go. I had to do this tonight, flustered by Saturday silence and hurt by knowing I know better.

Scrolling through my brother’s ipod I found what I used to do. I did it because it was the thing I understood best. And I did it for the sweat. The sweat and the adrenaline. I was never alone in those days. Yet, as I fall onto the bed, finally too exhausted to be angry any more…I can’t name a single person I used to belong wholly to. Then 4 boys from Chicago remind me of the beginnings of my current niche. I close my eyes so that I can’t see the color of my hair or the wet in my eyes, so that I can’t judge if I’m fatter or skinnier than I was a half an hour ago and so that my thoughts can go no where else. Sometime in between the second chorus and the breakdown…I have a thought. And suddenly, I know exactly where to find my friends. The ones that don’t take advantage, and the kind that always show up.

I open my eyes and they went to the wall. There they were; all my best friends in years of posters and pictures and album art and concert tickets. In rescued cassettes and retrieved set lists. My friends are the parts of these songs.

I don’t know what I do. But I know where I belong. And if that means wearing around one lace glove while I work alone on a Saturday night…then I guess my life’s just like a prayer. Let the choir sing.

…Terica.

a wise commercial once said, “I’m too eccited to sleep!”  I think we’re about to have a killer weekend…

Friday:  Toquet Hall, Westport CT w/ The Bride Wore Black and The Life I Lead

Saturday:  JINGLE MY BELLS Festival, Webster Theatre, Hartford CT w/ Never Shout Never, Hit the Lights, A Rocket To The Moon, Valencia, Ace Enders, Stereo Skyline, Sparks the Rescue, The Bigger Lights, etc.

Sunday:  ChristMOSH ‘09, Vibe Lounge, Rockville Centre NY w/ Stereo Skyline, The Bigger Lights, Big City Lights, The Bride Wore Black, and Score24

follow the weekend:

@natecyph @mikeCondition @punkstasteve @whoISnickyC @seghway @dobrock @thisisricky @bigcityjustin

<3 see you guys there!

…Terica.

Girls make boys cry.

But not until they have done plenty of it themselves.

What is it that makes us so desperate for answers? For endings to things that we can’t even pinpoint the beginning of. Why do girls seek the smallest shreads of evidence, while boys only give those validating looks when no one else is around to witness them? And why then, do girls think so hard about these alleged signs, that soon she can no longer even remember what actually happened. Girls drive themselves damn near crazy.

Girls make girls cry. 

In the past I have been treated less than sweetly. I’ve been neglected, cheated on, hit, and physically disrespected. The boy I have trusted so much in the past couple years turns out to be as merciless as the rest. Full of sorrys, a tall tale. Yet there comes a point when you have to take some responsibility for your own heartbreaks, and if there’s one person who can get me out of this, it’s me. A pen once put to paper, ”You can only blame your problems on the world for so long before it all becomes the same old song.” Maybe I couldn’t have stopped what has happened, but I can certainly halt was has yet to.

Big Girls Don’t Cry.

Stop respecting someone who never respects you. Don’t rely on someone who doesn’t want you to move on. Have a little faith in your instincts, it’s ok to say no. Quit complicating things, everyone looks better in black and white anyways. Don’t stop yourself from being happy because you want to beat karma to the punch. Take care of yourself. Never trust someone who says you can never trust a singer.. I don’t care what he says, they are not all the same. “So quit your crying, and wipe the tears from your eyes. ’Cause this is see you later. I’m not into goodbyes.”  

…Terica. <3

“When I Get Home You’re So Dead”  by: Mayday Parade

“Tell Me I’m A Wreck”  by: Every Avenue (the lyrics, not the guitar solo eek) 

Last night, as I will get made fun of for saying, was ‘just another day at the office.’ The bfg and the Singer and I went into the city yet again for AKoustic Mondays at the scene kid friendly Fall Out Bar.

@bigcityjustin: beanie..check..ring necklace..check..pleather jacket w/ hood..check..high top shoes..check..skinny jeans..check.. k ready for a show.

It’s always about the outfit, I agree. And it’s always about who you know. It should clearly always be about the hair. But when, in this supposedly desireable scene dream, is it just about the music?

With our small, yet known group at our usual end of the bar, I looked out across A&K and saw a ton of faces I knew. Of course Keith, Jesse my favorite bartender, band boy, band boy, groupie, groupie, groupie who always gets in my face, Jason Aron, band boy, Dino Club that should’ve stayed a secret, Miss Eleni, the Twitter War Champ, Cruella DeVille, Kid that Never Blinks, Kid who gives me the same shitty EP every Monday, groupie, groupie, Boys Like Girls minus Martin, We The Kings, and the original ginger, Travis Clark.

Now, I’m usually the first one to acknowledge and even giggle at the noteworthy faces of the industry, but in this proximity, I found myself tiptoeing not on a tight rope of fame, but on the borderline of lame.

The scene is a heirarchy:   Fans- Groupies- Friends of the Band- Local Bands- Techies and Promoters- Local Bands who know people- Minor Label Bands- Producers, Record Execs, and their various minions- Major Label Bands- and the Maine. (This is my blog, hush lol.) I am also the first to obey the heirarchy and even swear by it. But tonight as I brushed up against people a good 5 steps ahead of me, I ended up rolling my eyes.

Dear Boys Like Girls, don’t grab my waist, you were not the soundtrack to my summer. Dear Jason Aron, spare us the name-drops, we know who you are. Dear Travis Clark, you’re nice. I like you. Dear Jesse&Kings, Happy Birthday! Dear Keith, thanks for getting the Singer in. He’s a dope. Looovee, Terica.

We The Kings played all of four songs, one of which was their Jimmy Eat World cover so actually, only three of their own. The 9 and 10 heirarchy steppers at the bar held conversations that sounded like they were just reciting the artist listings of a mixed tape. And the groupies tried to decipher one leather jacket from the next, attempting to remember even one song they played while trying to get a free drink. Chivalry is so dead.

These famous bands you guys all love…it’s great that you love them but, they aren’t better than you. They’re probably not even as interesting as you. Take it from a scene kid who sat with her small, yet known group at their usual end of the bar and finally realized she’d rather talk about the new chord Mike McG learned than what color pants CashCash is wearing these days.

…Terica.

“Smile Kid”  -We The Kings’ brand new album, out today, check it and tell me what you think

Too often young people are pegged for having no awareness, care, or opinion as to what’s going on in our society today. Chords Will Cure says it’s time to stop forfeiting our voices.

Finally giving shows a reason to be function over fashion, Chords Will Cure is setting out to use music and knowledge to send help across Long Island, the country, and even the world.  Dreamed up by Sam Fruner and Mike Antonucci, the invested team also includes Devin Passariello, Tim Vargas, and Joe Barcella, all of which have signed on with a common goal to raise money and promote the kind of public awareness that will eventually make changes in a corrupt society.  Their plans to raise money highlight monthly concert ticket sales and original merchandise, which exists so far in t-shirts and bracelets that are equally stylish and affordable. Future fundraising plans include walk-a-thons, charity dinners, raffles, and contests. All of these again, are in effort to give kids the opportunity to get involved.

Rather than choosing one charity to call attention to, the CWC team has decided to take on four. “We decided to donate to 4 causes that we feel kids in the (music) scene would connect with the most.” says Passariello. Established as fully non-profit, CWC will benefit:

Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance; which prides itself on being the leading patient-directed organization, helping sufferers of the most prevalent mental illnesses pre-diagnosis, immediately following diagnosis, and when treatment isn’t working.

American Cancer Society; which is attributed for sending out hope on their way to finding a cure. Well known events include the highly successful Relay for Life and Strides Against Breast Cancer.

Global Aids Alliance; which sets out on the mission of halting global AIDS, especially reaching out to help poorer countries where the epidemic hits the hardest. They promote a hearty goal of achieving universal HIV/AIDS prevention, treatment, and care in the coming year.

ASPCA; which dedicates itself to the prevention of animal cruelty throughout the United States. As the first humane organization in the Western Hemisphere, this organization works to pass laws, rescue abuse victims, and deliver resources to animal shelters nationwide.

Chords Will Cure is already receiving a tremendous amount of support from the Long Island music scene. Its avid supporters include bands like This Condition, Patent Pending, Score24, Chasing Fiction, Under Spinning Lights, Set In Color, Big City Lights, and Stereo Skyline.  All of these bands and more have been booked for the organization’s first two shows, set for January 16^th and February 27^th 2010. In the nearer future, CWC is sponsoring ChristMOSH ’09 at the Vibe Lounge on December 20^th, featuring Stereo Skyline and The Bigger Lights.

The organization’s personal investment to change is apparent as Passariello opens up; “For me, donating to the American Cancer Society was the first priority. I lost my mother this past May to cancer. Luckily I started this business with 4 of my really good friends, so they were obviously supportive when I mentioned the ACS.” Antonucci says likewise; “Devin’s mother was a huge motivation for why we wanted to do this, and I also lost my grandmother to cancer several years ago. There are people in my life who suffer from depression and bipolar disorder, so DBSA is really important to me and hits close to home.”    

Chords Will Cure can be found on facebook, twitter, and myspace, all of which have been excellently designed by the talented Ashley Veltre. Visit www.chordswillcure.com for more information and for links to BigCartel.com to check out their merch, as well as PayPal.com to support by donation.

An end to suffering is near, and change fight-worthy. So speak up, get involved, and listen to the songs of an organization who wants to sing society into a bright and united future.   

…Terica.

Please re-blog this anywhere you can guys! Start getting the word out now : )

There’s no one like This Condition to make the mundane seem more than ordinary. They have this way of making my day-by-day seem far cuter when it’s in their amplifiers. There’s no one like Mike McG to sit on the new couch in the basement and play all the Rocket to the Moon songs he knows.  He has a way of playing only the prettiest notes when he’s trying to get my attention. And of course there’s no one like me to buy into every chord of this scenario.

I’m back in a basement for a TC weekday practice. Nate is upstairs lurking around, no doubt stealing food and water and assessing Mike’s material possessions.  I am sitting here typing out the second half of the summer tour Streetlight Diaries, and The Office is playing on the television.  I can’t really tell if all of this is especially predictable or extraordinary, but I expect to determine as soon as they’re all here.

As Mike plays around with his amp settings, his face goes all Picasso-esque when he strikes something he likes.  I laugh at him; knowing this is the face he makes when he thinks he’s found audio bliss. 5 minutes from now he’ll be dissatisfied again. I consider that I rarely think of Mike as a guitarist, and I wonder if it is in the same way I don’t think of Marc Verity as a singer. Or Justin Morrell as a band boy. I wonder.

Nate walks down with a sandwich and 2 drinks in his hands. I stare at him, silently gloating over how correct my assumption was. “Whaaat?” he pries.  I indulge in laughter and show Mike what I had written. He laughs too. All Mike wants to do is read something. He wants to read something I wrote about him, and to see how many times he can make me giggle by song. Main goals in life; check.

Finally, the rest of the band arrives and I don’t laugh anymore. I actually wince.  It’s like they don’t even like each other. It’s like if they didn’t have to practice they wouldn’t even tolerate each other.  And I hate feeling like that’s true. No one speaks. Mike’s already set up the drum kit and Nate tuned them so Steve sits down and makes mindless minor adjustments. Nick is tired from work, he just sits and waits to start. This is the first time I’ve ever seen him look impatiently bothered. Seghposs just…doesn’t seem so much in the moment. He can’t find the guitar rack that he’s nearly tripping on and I don’t even bother wondering where his head’s at. In all this, Nate figuratively removes himself inch by inch, until he’s at a comfortable distance away from his band and I can barely read into him. Mike takes a shallow breath and calls for order.

I have to grab a mic stand out of the trailer so Mike tosses me the keys and head outside. I crawl all over the unorganized mess until I find the desired by cell phone light. I feel like I’ve done this a million times. Yet so much has changed since summer tour, which has been evident to me as I watched the 4 of them set up. So much is different. And even though I have been known to well up in the face of change…I think I’d be upset if things were the same. TC is a different kind of band to me. I hope they never stay the same and I hope they never sit still. So I re-adjust downstairs and take another look around.

Lo and behold, despite the ragged wave of worn out that seems to be blanketing the boys I have referred to as “mine,” there is somehow still an aura about this room. Basements are different when This Condition’s in them.

I don’t think I’ve ever sat this close to a drummer. I don’t think I’ve ever said how much I really adore Stevie Keyes. Stevie Pipes. So I watch him very closely, and I feel Mike watch me watching him very closely.  Mistake: dropped a stick, knocked into the crash. I realize from this lack of distance I am forced to also witness every mistake he makes, which I ‘m aware he will later so passionately not admit.  I guess this to be symbolic of the whole mess of a music world we live in. I love it, but if I wanna sit this close I’m gonna hafta learn to take all its flaws too.

Nicky finally does smirk at me. He’s in his work clothes, fingers dirty from the real world. Four fifths of these boys look too real world to me, and that’s where my wince is coming from. Still, it’s the first song and I have to have a little faith.

I go through a handful of moments missing Anthony. Segh looks past me, even through me. And I have a distinct instinct about that.  Though, some things haven’t changed because he has to be told to turn down when his guitar is clearly detrimental to our ear drums, and receives the adjacent Ol’ Happy ‘are you serious?’ nod and gesture. He also verbalizes his mentality as “I just wanna shred” so…I mean I can’t feel too big a hole here. I shake my head and look to the singer.

I see in the first chorus that it’s not the boys on the List who are breaking my heart, it’s Nate Cyphert. The rest are cheap fill-ins for him, for his attention. He may not be the number One, but he’s right about some things. I am nothing without him. The way Nate works is; all love no proof. The proof is in his subtilties, in his lyrics, and in what he doesn’t say. I have to trust that he loves me, and only then do I know that he really does. Maybe this should apply to the majority of band boys. 

Mike can’t help but smile. He loves this, he loves everything about this. He loves the good stuff, the bad stuff, the guilty stuff and of course, the Baby Blue Eyes stuff. This is why he’s my best friend. Precisely why. He sees things how I see them…as more than average. There is more to all of this than meets the eye and Mike, he knows how to see the things I write about.

They look like boys to me.  Just boys in their non-skinny jeans and baseball caps. Again I can’t decide if I find this ridiculous or comforting. I twirl my feet around to their music, as they hang loosely from my short legs off the new couch. I consider stopping them, as I now so often do in fear of being myself in an embarrassing way, but I realize I dont’ need to. Not here, not with these 5.  Hey andrebaby- keep your head and heart high ; )

I gaze across to Nick. He looks directly into my eyes, but then away without so much as a sigh. It’s another change. TC hardly smiles at me anymore. Not like they used to when they were playing and they knew exactly how I felt because of it. How a couple years later I still feel because of this (Woah-oh I could never). I miss those smiles. But then.  I feel a side glance pulling me in and I look in time to see Nathen sending me fire.

And I swear to you…

I love Mike for assuming I know what the hell he’s talking about even when I don’t. Nope, can’t name that delay but yeah I think its sounds soo much better too. And I like the way Nate grins when they all argue over a part. It makes everything worse and the bickering that much louder. And he knows it. And that’s why he does it. Precisely.  

“What song’s next?” 

“How do you not recognize this beautiful chord??”

 I know it. That’s D Sus. That’s the Heaven chord, according to Matt Reich and that means I’m No Hero is next. You dum dum.

I guess I’ve been falling from the start. The start of this adventure, this friendship, and this set tonight. I guess I don’t give them enough credit either, ‘cause they move me even when I’m too busy frustrating over them not moving me. I know this because I tear up during Red Letter, like any warm blooded human being will, and I shudder with every hit in the beginning of Take, like every cold breaking heart does. I don’t particularly feel the need to share these moments with the Twitter world as I normally would. Instead I feel like keeping them for myself. That’s why I haven’t posted a Streetlight in so lon; I’m being selfish. I feel the need to grasp onto these things that amaze me before I can give them away to you. Otherwise they just pass right through me, and if I don’t feel the moments, then you won’t feel the words I write about them.

This Condition starts to write a new song and there is a sedated but sarcastic fight when Mike tries to play out what they have so far and Steve won’t stop banging around. I feel way better with the drummer’s now silence broken. That’s more like the band I know. : )

Mike’s face when they’re playing through a half-written song is just one of the many bonuses at a job that doesn’t pay. ‘Cause I also love how Nicky licks his lips like he’s getting ready from something big and how Steve hits harder just to go into the second verse.  Does this sound very Mr. Richards or very Mr. Dylan? They can’t decide and I can’t fathom the debate but…they are excited. They’re doing everything for “shits and giggles” tonight. I think it’s the new “just sayin’”

I don’t know whether I love Justin Brighten for being the influence or Mike Condition for being the writer on this new song. Either way I think you guys are gonna really love what they’re coming up with. Give them time, have some patience. And faith. 

“Edge on the side of nothing. “  Exist on verge on non-existence. TC is still here, breathing. Waiting for night to break and for the light to be theirs. I am waiting on them, sleepless in worry yet still brilliantly amazed by every chord. There’s no one like This Condition to keep a Streetlight on for.

…Terica.

“Never Enough” by: This Condition