Post by tori goes rawr on Sept 23, 2010 13:25:45 GMT -5
you can hear the fans screaming in your head as you sit on your tour bus, your face expressionless and your mind blank, and you’re not sure if they’re right outside the bus or if they’re where you left them in front of the stage. you can barely keep your eyes open, and as you pop open what seems the hundredth monster that day, or night you're not sure, you wonder why you keep doing this. your bassist is sprawled out in a chair, picking at his guitar in that anxious way he always does before shows, your drummer's bouncing around and tapping beat she's played a hundred times before, and your guitarist is in the corner, whispering to his girlfriend at the other end of the phone line. you’re all jetlagged, you’re all haggard, but you’ve got a job to do. you’ve got fans to please, and while most of them wouldn’t mind raiding your tour bus, they’d all rather you were out there playing the kick ass music they fell in love with.
there’s a creak as the door swings open and your head snaps up. you’re not at all surprised to see that it’s the stage manager interrupting what little alone time you have, an expression of awe and fear mixed on his face. guess he never quite got used to coming face to face with bands as big as yours. he stands there awkwardly, not sure what to say, but he doesn’t have to say anything at all to convey his purpose for coming. with a sigh, you stand and force a smile directed at the rest of your band. this is what you’ve all been waiting for, what you drove all night to get to, its showtime baby.
you've wanted to do this all your life. you've imagined it a thousand times, yet none of your scenarios ended in this. in what, exactly? your bassist's half-hearted three a.m. intervention that's not going to work anyway? the fans that love you one minute, and scream sellout the next? the fucked up balance between the line of girls outside your tour bus and your wife at home? maybe it's pessimistic, but it's the truth.
this is your chance to make it big, to get that record deal you've always wanted. these next forty-six days are going to be tough, but that's what you live for, right? go ahead and call it hell, call it whatever the fuck you want, just as long as you
BLEED LIKE ME