Girls do silly things for boys.
I pulled myself out of bed to write and lemme tell ya it was tough, because I am wearing feety pajamas and they are incredibly cozy. But this is an emergency blog based on messages I received from a few of you while I was dreaming. I get these messages too often from girls, and I think it may be partly my fault. I want you to know that…
“I’m the world’s most dangerous predator. Everything about me invites you in. My voice… My face… Even my smell. As if I’d need any of that. As if you could outrun me! As if you could fight me off!”
A lot of you are just like me; you were born with this extra little chromo-watt that allows you, no- insistss you to fall in love with band boys. Too quickly. Too easily. It takes only the pull of a pick, the snap of a snare… they are our “own personal brand of heroine.”
…I want you to know that I believe in nurture vs. nature; you don’t have to be the girl behind the van. Or the girl herded into staying where he’s staying for one night. It’s a common misconception, and one much publicized by this blog even, that it is just part of our world to have to say goodbye in the morning when he heads to the next state, the next venue, the next girl behind the van. But I don’t believe in that anymore. We aren’t meant to be disposable, we are not accessories. I don’t think good stories end with first kisses.
This should probably piss a lot of boys off, this demotion of the one-show hookup. The ones who are annoyed, well- I guess it’d piss me off too to be told I was a dime-a-dozen. My messagers; demand better. There is a boy out there who doesn’t want you to be just the night’s girl. Who wants more from you, for you. Love isn’t a graphic on a tee and it’s not a rubber bracelet around your wrist. I think it’s time we give love a little more credit than that.
There are more of us than there are of them, which somehow constantly gets twisted against us. Yet these outnumbers are the basic functionality of any great strike, farmer’s army, or overthrow. I don’t like change, but I like revolution. And it’s about time.
Guard your heart like a naval base. Let in only the ships you want to, catch only the winds who guide you the way you want to go. By all means fall, but remember we are ones- scene girls see the immortality in those picks and snares. It’s our gift. We choose how to use it.
Make sure you’re getting out of bed for the right people. And for crying out loud, do not follow my lead.
Absolutely. I will meet you in the middle of the dance floor at the stroke of 8. I will be wearing yellow hair.
Send it! The info is below…everytime you message me I get “Shake” stuck in my head. See you at a Patent Pending show?
Rachel. You’re a psycho. What else could be better to write a book about. Make a bed for me in Florida…I’m freezing in NY!
This is what I remember about the show we chilled at: I ate Andrew from Set It Off’s Subway, Rob from Patent Pending took a bathroom break in the middle of a song, and your hair is super effing red. : ) mad cute.
Stop living in theory. You’re wasting time.
Write something about Nate and his guitar. Hmm. That’s like asking me if I could paint the walls of my own heart.
How many times have we said; those lyrics… that voice… How many of us close our eyes for the bridge of Red Letter? Beg and plead with our secrets to just Take, Take, Take. We don’t have to be alone: a phrase that defines an entire group- a Family. Nate’s songs find us when we’re lost, they bring us home. They have us wrapped around the fingers that he has wrapped around an A chord before he even steps into the microphone. Then, we don’t breathe when Nate sings. Not until he reminds us to.
And it seems to me that guitar sounds a certain way; hits the hollows with acoustics we’d know anywhere. It fills us up, doesn’t it? Let’s us believe when hope is still too much money, and miles away. He plays these songs always for the onlys; for Love. For you.
I used to have to go after that guitar all the time; climb around in the trailer to make sure it was amidst the electrics, haul it to the van because Nate wanted it, he needed it closer. I once drove all the way from Long Island to Connecticut in the middle of a weekday to get that guitar back…
It had been left side stage at Billy Baloney’s over the weekend. The venue owner was so disgruntled as soon as I walked in that he made me swear no one in This Condition would call him for the rest of the month. I estimated maybe 3 calls-a-day each from Mike, Dob and I, and 7-a-day from Nate himself. “This damn guitar!” the owner complained as he led me up a staircase, and I giggled. He stopped sharp and wheeled around to face me with grouchy fire in his eyes.
“I’m sorry sir,” I explained, “it’s just that…that’s a very important guitar.”
“Oh is it?” he mocked.
I nodded willfully, “That’s Nate Cyphert’s guitar.”
He looked at me like I was crazy; just a kid with lovestruck eyes. But with more mumbling he let me into his drafty office, and there, sitting in the middle of the room with one dusty sunbeam falling across it, was the Taylor. It looked up at me like some wild, beautiful thing; a car with no brakes. I caught my breath. Then with no more than a bothered shoo from the owner, I scooped up that guitar and brought it back to New York with me. Back to Brooklyn. Back to its Family.
That guitar is gone now. Stolen from Nate from behind a stage…the very place he is so honest with us. And I can’t help but insist that the person who took it couldn’t have known what they were taking from him, from all of us. Live in a place where Nate Cyphert doesn’t have a guitar? I won’t. So I’m asking for your help.
This is a fund to get Nathen another guitar. To put out hearts back into the hands they belong. He plays for the onlys- and we are his Family. That means that we can’t sit still and do nothing; the timing’s right- we’ve got to do this. So please, donate 5 dollars if you can, one dollar…donate 25 cents. Think of it as a paint fund. Love only.
“I got this feelin- no I know for a fact that something will happen between you two. u have to let it happen with no hesitations and drop little compliments here and there to let him know that yeahh, guess what, i feel the same way 2 and we should make babies. that’s how u get him into your heart, all you have to do is let him know that you feel that way about him and if the like- 1% odds he doesnt feel that way about you you dont want your time. but seriously, im like a matchmaker made in heaven and i think you 2 would be perfect.”
do i even know this boy? lol thanks for the boy advice, streetlighter.
as soon as i get the courage to make the same mistake twice. which i will.
“So Russell…what do you love about music?”
“To begin with…. everything.”
Music means…immortality. Once it’s written, recorded, sung- no one can take it. I always wanted to be in a song. Music is something that I don’t have to let go of, something I don’t have to give space. I can play it again and again and over and over and…it’s still just as incredible. Haven’t you noticed?..anything is possible when the music is on. I’m living proof.
“I saw this mess of big blonde hair and a torn up Ramones shirt today. I miss you.”