Living on tour is never boring.
Okay, yeah, sometimes it is boring.
But what I mean is it's interesting. The four of us each have our own respective personalities, and living together on a bus is like throwing those personalities into a blender on puree and then voila! You have a strange blend of zany, chaotic, activity and muddled body clocks, weird smells, and a lot of coffee.
It's difficult to have very much privacy or breathing space, no matter what bus upgrade we've earned this time around. For example, when someone (Ray) falls asleep on the couch in the lounge, there is absolutely nowhere to sit unless you fancy being sardined in your bunk for the time said person is snoozing the day away.
Then there's the bathroom, which is a toxic gas chamber, especially when the catering menu offers Mexican food. I swear it needs to be fumigated before I will ever go in there other than to take an emergency shower
I smiled and decided to seat myself next to him. He's always funny when he's drunk. And it doesn't take much to get him drunk since he's such a light weight with it. Which is weird considering how much he actually does drink.
"Hey Gee." I said while plopping down on the stool next to him.
"Whoaaaaaaaaa...Hey Frankie baaaaaaby" He slurred putting an arm around my neck.
"Drunk I see?" I giggled.
"Pshaw, I'm completely sober." He emphasized.
"Sure you are..." I was trying to stiffle my laugh.
"Don't you sass me you...you elf."
"Elf?" I questioned.
"Yeah. You're an elf. I know because you're this big." Then he put his hand in the air showing me how tall he thought I was.
"I'm not THAT short." I said pouting playfully.
He feels…stiff, dry, worn out, and incredibly confused. His confusion only increases when he looks to the right of him and sees another man lying on the altar beside him.
But…it isn't just any man – it is himself. But the other him…the other him looks, well, dead. And how is that even possible? His hand stretches out, fingertips skimming across the high cheekbones of his – but not his – face. The skin is waxy and cold. He is dead, and has been for a while, although the corpse must have been preserved in some way.
So then…is he a ghost? How would that work, exactly? He feels so real, more real, even, than the dead him, who is as still and artificial looking as a mannequin, scarlet hair falling over closed eyes. His own eyes flick down to the corpse's neck, where a ragged wound is, black around the edges as though burnt. Caused by…a raygun. He remembers now, with a strange sort of s
Today, would be Valentines day.
Normally I would be spending this day moping around with my band mates and their girlfriends.
This year its different.
I have a wife, so today we will be exchanging Valentine gifts.
The strange thing is.
Its not her who I keep thinking of...Frank.
During the summer of 2007, on our tour of Projekt Rev.
Frank and I were, abnormally 'close'
Everyday something new would happen.
We kissed too much for people not to believe something was up.
Or we would do some sort of sexual, kinky move.
I know deep down I love Frank more than I should.
But when Frankie is around me, he wears his heart on his sleeve.
Lately, ever since I, well you can say "dumped" him in august near the end of Projekt Rev. and married Lyn-z, hes been depressed.
He chopped his long beautiful locks.
Doesnt shave anymore.
He wears alot of baggy clothing.
Then again, when he isn't, everyone could tell he's depressed, heartbroken, hurt..
Hes gained weight.
It saddens me to a great exte
Well, I havent taken a shower in 4 days, and Im not going out in public smelling like our tour bus. Gerard replied through the bathroom door, starting up the shower.
CHRIST ON A MOTORCYCLE, GERARD. I HAVE TO PEE! Frank yelled, pounding on the door. He heard Gerard giggling inside. Sighing, Frank slumped against the door and let out a string of profanities. The sound of water was not helping his situation.
Dammit, Ive got to find a
I slunk across the floor of the house, silent at three in the morning, and unmoving under the silver moonlight except for me, trudging along with the bottle of pills in my hands. I laughed a little at the irony.
These pills this medication was supposed to make my life brighter and take away the depression and pain. They hadn't done their job, so they were being commissioned by me to perform one final fling. A contract kill that'd relieve the pain permanently. Seemed about right, to end a futile life that I was tired of living. I'm a fish in a barrel anyways; waiting to be picked out by the stronger, bette
I was surprised, obviously, but kissed back right away. His tounge pushed it's way into my mouth, exploring it fully. I could barely battle for dominence, because he was winning. I wrapped an arm around his waist and let my other arm fall from my guitar.
And then I remember we were on stage. I stopped kissing him and he pushed me away from him, and continued singing like nothing happened. I shook everything from my head and went on playing.
----Fast forward to after the show----
We were all really sweaty because the show had just finished. It actually looked like we had just showered, especially me. I don't know why but I'm always the one to emerge the most drenched in sweat. Gerard was always second.
Like a beating heart we throbbed, Don't go, don't go.
But you did
You left in the night
Just packed your things and didn't leave a note
Just sort of expected we'd know what had happened
We did, and it didn't make it any better
It would only be unfair if we called it unfair
Ten thousand eyes sharing one set of binoculars
Watching from afar and pretending we don't care
We do, I promise
But not for the reasons you think
Of a million stars, you flickered like a flashlight
lost your batteries and died
At least to us you did
Just hid behind a silver-grey cloud
Never once checking behind you to see if we were okay
Somewhere where we can't see you
You're either picking up roses or pushing up daisies
At some point we'll find out
But by then you'll have lost the ability to care what we think
Even though we've been with you this whole time
As the soil under your feet
Lucky to be something to hold you up
Or bring you down
By: Elvira Tepes
I have had my challenges in life. But the latest one is the hardest. Who knew I would be going through a pregnancy now? The worst part is I have no idea at all who the father is. I don't remember. One drunken night at a party and I get pregnant.
It all started on Halloween. My best friend Jonas Roberts is throwing a Halloween party and I was invited. And it is a costume party so that gives me a reason to dress up. I already had my hair dyed white so I decided to go as a human skeleton. I found some old stage make up and made my face look like an actual skull. Then I put on my skeleton costume. I smiled looking at myself in the mirror. I was very pleased.
I walked the three blocks to the apartment and knocked. The door opened and I waved. Jonas laughed and ushered me in. There already were people there. I knew some of them. I walked around talking to people as I sipped the beer in my hand. Around dark, this short freshman
The hair black as night
He chose the path of an artist
And thought the way was right
Until one day an airplane smashed
And the buildings did more than sway
This once young mans green eyes
Did flash and he couldnt look away
He sunk lower and
Barricaded himself in his room
No one dared break through
The darkness of this gloom
Then one day a worried friend
Pulled him out of his depression
He was awoken with knowledge
And put the gloom on suspension
He knew what he must accomplish
To make the world a better place
He called together friends
And his brother to start off on his race
He started writing lyrics
And music- he had found his muse
He was no longer afraid,
Or something the public just used
He helped the teenagers
That use to so scare him
Though he chanted Im Not Okay
His sanity never perched on the rim
With his understanding
And compassion for others strife
He has saved more
Then just one life
As the Black Parade came marc
He gulps hard and the fingers of his left hand twitch a little, the fingers of his right hand clutching his abdomen. "Gerard?" he squeeks. He wants to start mutilating one of the sleeves of his hoodie with his fingers, the fabric stretching and a small hole becoming a big hole. Almost big enough to fit his thumb through. But he can't. His arms feel heavy and dead.
"Gerard?" he repeats, his voice raised a little. He notices that it has an annoying whine to it. Does it always soun
Ok well, where do you want to go? Frank asked, shoving his hands in the pockets of his striped hoodie. Gerard was silent for a moment, staring at the ground. He seemed very apprehensive, but for a reason Frank didnt know.
Lets just walk. Gerard offered. Frank nodded, and they started walking down the sidewalk, away from the McDonalds and the hotel. They didnt speak, and neither of them dared to, for the silence was so strong itd be a sin to break it. The town they were in seemed to be a daytime only town, for only a few cars passed on the road. It seemed almost abnormal; as if the entire population had disappeared into the blackness of the night.
Hey look, a cemetery! Gerard said, pointing ahead. Frank turned his attention to the large white cathedral to their rig
Then there was Gerard. He always sang as if his life depended on it, and the fans loved him. He could get them to do anything; scream, jump, anything. Whether it was his angelic screaming voice, or just his dashing good looks as he shaked his ass for the crowd, they always obeyed him as if he were Jesus.
Frank smirked to himself as he signed some autographs outside the