04/06/11
Amber eyes, color of clove / Where do all the dead girls go? / Riviera, carolina...


This shit sucks. These past few months have been nothing but the worst in my life, without a fuckin doubt. Every time I go out with these weirdos I get grappled, I get shot at, or trampled or something. Marie said I should write what's in my head, but I keep reliving this same night every day, over and over.

This went down 3 years ago, I was doing a show at a bar downtown in nowhere city. Honestly, I couldn't remember where that shit went down if I tried. What I do remember is the crowd. I missed so many notes but there was this crazy fire about them. I was off though. I was off my game and I was pissed off and honestly this was weeks before I quit that band.

That day, before the concert (although calling it a concert is a long shot) we had rehearsal. When I showed up, those two were already high and not even paying attention to the TV. Some news anchor raving about the latest house fire in a richer part of town. They were at least wearing the leathers like I asked, but the moment I got there they were lounging on the couch sharing a joint. The tiny Indian girl laying upside down on the couch was Shoreh. Long ponytail, studded jean jacket and leather leggings. She and I met in med school and she was a supportive friend when she wasn't obsessed with useless men. She got me into music in the first place, but this band gave me serious second thoughts. The lanky white boy next to her was Bryce. Long face, Bohemian hair, super slutty cropped leather vest with baggy pants. Always smelled like weed. He was never serious about the whole band thing, but Shoreh always took his side. And last was the shadow in the back behind the synthesizers, Julian. Supposedly, he was there in Germany and France in the 70's when electronic house music got big. I find it hard to picture him at a club with how little he likes talking or smiling. At the rehearsal, he had a patchworked plaid shirt on with the same stains on it since last band sesh.

God, I should've done quit the band then. After we finished Riviera Carolina (Which *I* wrote while they was all high during practice) the crowd was cheering and hollering. It's hard not to feel good seeing happy faces.

The rest of the night was a blur after that. I tried to slip out backstage but some groupies found my ass and dragged it back to the bar. Drinking and watching the crowd have more fun than me is usually how it goes down. But then there's this girl. A short white girl yeah? She was in the front row earlier. At the time she was totally wasted, but she had that shit on. Big studded leather jacket, little black dress I couldn't pull off, brown pixie cut, and tons of freckles. I can't remember her name. Just details. The Glossy black above those eyes, and the way she took my hand for a dance. Those burn scars on her forearms. The way the lights hit her tights. Her dumb smirk. The most fun I've had since.

Maybe it's cause I want to be anywhere but here in this shit. Maybe it's cause it feels so familiar, even tho it's been years. I don't fucking know. I just don't know. I was still glad when the crowds left and the club called it a night after that. Although it's not the part I keep thinking 'bout, I remember how I saw her slumped against the brick wall outside the bar. I thought someone like her would have a group of bitches for girl's night or at least some boring man, but she was just sitting there. Alone. Can't say I know why it mattered so much to me. I just wanted to help I guess. She was still sober enough to hold on to me for a piggyback ride. Heheh. She even kicked and said giddy up. Once I could understand her damn slurring I found her place. Did she have a southern accent? I don't know.

She said she was eighteen. I don't know how I could be so genuinely fucking stupid. I didn't even think about it. I didn't want that but I could've ended my life then and there. It was hard to walk home after that. I never saw her again. I'm not sure I want to. I don't think I do. And I won't ever see her again after this fucking apocalypse bullshit. Honestly maybe I just miss feeling wanted. Everyone wants a butch bitch right? I dunno. Do I sign my name or something? This shits embarrassing.

Vallerie Wesson Smith