Diesel
Monkey Archive
9:30 am - Friday - Lobby
Well, kids, I’ve read over my
last entry and realized two things. (1) I was drunker than I let on, and (2) my
harsh words for Alexander’s conquest were a little TOO harsh as a result of my
infinite jealousy. I WANT TO CLIMB A BRIDGE WITH ALEXANDER.
Looking at the women last night, I realized that I was a little TOO
fresh-scrubbed and sunshiny. So tonight I have a different plan. (Good thing I
packed about 30 different outfit combos). Tonight, it’s the white, sleeveless
minidress and some really, really, really tall shoes that show off my calves.
Also, last night I wore a nude, shimmery lipstick…tonight…dark, winey red. Guys
are drawn to lips, they HAVE to stand out.
This is the most expensive, craziest hotel I’ve ever stayed in. They’re
charging me $16.00 to park my car here! I can’t believe it. I pointed out that
had I not driven my car from Chicago, we would not be STAYING at this lovely
establishment, so it’s stupid to in essence punish me for bringing it. She
didn’t think that was too clever.
Thank God I wasn’t drunk enough to have a hangover. Driving back to Chicago is
going to seem very very long indeed.
You know, in all of this quest for some Alexander Landers action, I’ve lost
sight of what I love about this band in the first place. It’s the music. I
loved the music before I even knew what Alex looked like. I loved his low,
growly voice and the loud, harsh, head pounding energy of the music. Watching
the concert last night from the third row I got all of those feelings back.
Their live show is so…fascinating. It’s theatrical. It’s pyrotechnic and
dramatic and fifteen costume changes and….and everything those stupid bands
like Pearl Jam ISN’T. I’m so tired of these lazy, boring grungy bands just
standing around playing music in their flannel shirts and beat up jeans…Diesel
Monkey understands the theatrical side of rock and roll…I can’t remember the
last time I had so much fun at a concert. So, I’ve got to keep saying that.
There are people in the world, teenagers, right now, who WISH they were getting
ready for a Diesel Monkey concert, but their parents won’t let them, or they’re
living in Idaho or whatever…and I’m going to
the concert for the second night in a row. Every time you get a taste of
something, you want more and more. That’s a fact. I’ve lost touch with how
lucky I am to even be GOING to a concert. To even have TICKETS. The Chicago
show is sold out, and I’m on the guest list.
Gunnar is a guy on the sound crew for DM and he said he was really happy that
Angie and I would be at the next two shows. We hung out with him for a good
hour and a half while we waited for a cab.
Note to Cleveland: If you plan on being a thriving metropolis, get a couple
more cabs and have them run AFTER DARK..I know it’s a lot to ask.
I’m a Chicagoan, all of these other cities just seem to suck.
4:00 am - Thursday
When I was really
little, I used to get SO EXCITED for my birthday that I'd almost always get a
fever or the flu or some sort of illness that would have me confined to my bed
for days. I would run my body and my mind ragged with thoughts of my
impending celebration and when it finally happened…I'd be puking. Anyway,
that's kind of how I'm feeling right now. Actually, I'm writing this in
the dark, wearing my Itty Bitty Booklight on my head, and waiting for the alarm
to go off. I keep thinking that it can't be real. I keep thinking
that Angela is going to come in, pounce on me in bed and say, "I was just
kidding, we're not really going to the concert!" That's just the
kind of luck I have. Which is why this is odd. This stuff doesn't
happen. I don't get backstage passes and meet rockstars that I admire.
(admire! HA! I censor myself in my journal…just say it, you're
lusting after them in your heart) Anyway, what I mean to say is…it doesn't
happen…so something has to go wrong. AHA! The alarm!
5:30 am - Thursday
Angela really knows
how to "build the anticipation" so to speak. We're almost to
the expressway, on our way to Cleveland and she decides she needs a Dr. Pepper
and some nail clippers, so we stopped at Walgreens and that's where she is
right now.
My mind is already building up this weekend to be something that it can't
possibly be, but it's like my imagination is on fast forward and I can't find
the stop button. I just have to watch everything fly by. All I know is this.
Out of all the things I've fantasized about for this encounter with Diesel
Monkey…I know that one of them MUST be done. And that is this: I want to
have a picture taken, and I know exactly how I want it to look. I want to
be sitting on a couch with Alexander, the lead singer, and I want it to be a
candid photo, from across the room. I want Alex and I to be looking at
each other, smiling, maybe laughing. Really genuine. I think I'll
discuss this with Angela and we'll plan it. That picture I want, that
candid picture? I want it because I don't want your basic, boring,
rock-star-standing-with-adoring-fan-against-white- background picture. Everyone
has that picture. I want a picture of us CONVERSING, like FRIENDS, and
then I can put that up on my fridge and people can come over and say, "Is
that Alexander? Alexander Landers? From Diesel Monkey?"
and I can nod and say, "Oh, sure. I was hanging out with him on
their last tour." I would say it really casually, like we were the
best of friends. I've got it all planned out. What can go wrong?
This candid photo fantasy is, by far, the most innocent and PG of all of my
plans for this weekend…but I see that Angela is returning to the car.
More about EMILY AND ALEXANDER AFTER DARK later.
9:00 am - Thursday
Pee break. I've
had about a gallon and a half of coffee. I'm not tired, or hungry, but I
figure I should eat SOMETHING, because God knows when I'm going to get a good
solid meal. So I bought some Lemonheads.
I wonder why Indiana doesn't have any good radio stations? Thank God my
car has a CD player or I'd be going crazy already, 3 1/2 hours into our trip.
Angela and I have discussed what our three outfits will be. We have three
concerts to attend and three parties after those concerts. I've expressed
my theory to Angela, and she thinks it's true. Here's the theory.
My plan to stand out in the crowd is to wear ALL WHITE. The crowds at a
Diesel Monkey show are always so dark and sullen, goth makeup and torn
stockings, dominatrix gear. It has to get tiring. And I can only
assume that groupies at the aftershow parties are going to be dressed like that
too. Why would you wear 4 inch spike heels to a concert? So,
tonight, for the Cleveland show, I'm going to wear some very short, cute, frayed,
light denim shorts that show off my legs, and a tight, white tank top with no
bra. I'm going to wear my shiny silver choker (just a hint of the S&M
element) and some very shimmery, light colored makeup. It's an outfit
I've worn before to bars and stuff and I ALWAYS get a couple of
compliments. I'm set.
So after our whole outfit discussion, Angela declared us both SICK, saying she
was sure that no one else going to this show was spending this much time
planning. Well, that might be true, but THOSE people won't get anywhere
with Alexander either. I will.
We haven't listened to any Diesel Monkey yet on this trip. We're waiting
until we get closer to Cleveland. My heart is jumpy enough already.
I haven't told anyone that we have backstage passes and free tickets and that
we're basically WITH THE BAND. I don't want to jinx it. I said that
I would relax as soon as we were in the car on our way to Cleveland, that then
I would know it was really happening. But I'm still nervous. I
still think something horrible is going to happen. I've got to stop thinking
that.
Angela said she's going to sleep for a while so I'll be alone with my thoughts,
perhaps I shall spend a little time further developing my Alex and Emily
fantasy evening…poor Alex. He'll never be able to live up to it.
2:15 pm - Thursday - AT THE HOTEL
Well, my obsession
with Alexander Landers has paid off. In my research of what hotel
amenities the boys look for and what hotel chains they prefer, I have
successfully picked the hotel in Cleveland that THEY are staying at. (I
give myself 50 points!)
When Angela and I stumbled through the revolving door, we nearly tripped over
Christian and Ian, who were getting ready to go to soundcheck. Then Jared
popped out of the elevator. Angela knows these guys. She knows them
from a long time ago, so they rushed up and hugged her and welcomed her to
town. (These are Grammy winners, mind you). Angela introduced me
and I shook their hands. Yes, yes. They were very nice, very
cute…but they weren't Alexander. They could never dream of BEING
Alexander. But they were cute. I craned my neck around looking for
him. Angela went off to talk to the band's assistant, the guy in charge
of getting them everywhere. She came back and dropped the bomb. The
horrible thing that I knew would happen. Alexander is injured. He
fell during the show two days ago and threw out his back. He's such a
brave soul, though, that he's still doing all the shows, but when he's not on
stage, he's got to be laying down or in the hot tub…hold on…I'm picturing him
in a hot tub…anyway, the point is…he's injured. Angela could see my face
fall.
Angela: Don't worry. Ben says that he still shows up to the
parties. He has to! He's the lead singer!
Sure, he'll show up. He'll sign autographs and take some pictures and
then he'll leave. I knew it. I just knew it. Something
horrible was bound to happen and this is it.
I had a lot of trouble checking in. The hotel lost my reservation, then
they told me my credit cards were no good (which I know they are, I just called
the bank), and basically, it took over an hour to check in. The lady
behind the counter could tell I was frustrated, and she wanted to do SOMETHING
for me. Here's the cool thing she did.
Angela: So Mary said that he has to rest his back. They got him
some sort of brace or something and he's on all these painkillers…
Me: Maybe he needs me to go and give him a massage. (we laugh)
The Reception Lady: (she looks up, really quietly, and just barely opens
her lips) He's still here you know.
I snapped my head up like she'd offered me a million dollars.
Me: What?
Lady: The guy? In the band? He's really tall, with black
hair? He's still here. He'll be here until six.
Angela busted out laughing and I nodded thoughtfully. The woman gave us
the keys to our room and we made our way to the elevator. Once we were
inside, Angela looked at me and said, "well, I guess we know what you're
doing for the rest of the afternoon".
So, Angela is taking another nap and I have dressed for the show, washed my
face and redone my hair and makeup. I feel much better, being out of the
car and all. But I'm giddy. I can't rest. I'm going to go
wander the halls of the hotel and check out the pool. What if he's
swimming? That's good for your back, eh? I'm going to check it out.
I probably won't write anything else until after the show…but I hope that's a
long and wonderful entry. It better be…my neck is killing me from driving
for seven hours.
Let me say this before we go any further, it's got to be said…I AM NOT A
STALKER.
I am a FAN.
3:15
am ? Friday, AFTER THE AFTERSHOW
Should be
sleeping, but my ears are ringing and I’m a little…tipsy, and I’m just plain
WIRED. What a concert!!!! What a
show! I thought my neck hurt
BEFORE! There’s something about that
music…I can’t…explain it. They still
won’t do Unbound (my favorite song), but I told Ian how sad that made me and he
said Alexander doesn’t like to sing that song live. So I forgive him.
ALEXANDER.
ALEXANDER, ALEXANDER. ALEXANDER
LANDERS. Good God in heaven. I don’t want to gush here, but it’s just so
obvious that he’s the most ATTRACTIVE, SEXY, POWERFUL man alive! How can everyone not see that? How is it that he’s gone 35 years on this
planet and is not a SUPER MODEL? An
ACTION MOVIE star? WHY ISN’T HE ON
PEOPLE’S 50 MOST BEAUTIFUL LIST? How
does that happen? The women of the
world who haven’t seen or don’t know about Alexander are really missing
out. He’s got these big bulging muscles
and this really cool tattoo on his bicep ? it’s silver gray, it looks really
shiny, like a bent pipe, wrapping around his arm. I want to lick it. His
eyes are bright, shiny green and his jaw…it’s…so…chiseled…I think I may faint.
Anyway, he
DID show up to the party and he DID talk to people. Angela was talking to him and I watched him very carefully. He gave me a tiny, tiny, ever so slight,
no-one-could-notice-but-me smile and I saw his eyes go over my body once. HE WAS CHECKING ME OUT! I felt happy about that, but now I feel self
conscious. Has he seen so many women
that he can spot a flaw IMMEDIATELY? My
stomach isn’t perfectly flat, that’s the problem. But I didn’t eat anything, so it’s not bloated or anything. I only started to drink AFTER Alex left for
the evening.
Ian is a
sweetheart. He plays the bass for the
band, and he’s got these big brown eyes and a sweet smile. I talked to him the most. He asked me my favorite song and offered me
one of his cigarettes. That’s the
closest I’ve ever come to taking up smoking.
Oh, why
did I start drinking? BECAUSE HE DIDN’T
LEAVE ALONE. Alexander. I think my
theory has been quickly disproven.
Alexander left the party with the ugliest, skankiest, bad perm-iest,
fishnet-and-stilleto-heel-wearing whore I’d ever had the displeasure of
seeing. PLUS, she didn’t even know who
he was…what their band was all about…she’s just some bitch who came to the
party to fuck a rock star. God bless it.
She doesn’t know. She doesn’t
know what she’s got. It’s my
stomach. I know it. I’m going to do 300 sit ups every night from
now on. This girl, she had a perfect,
gorgeous body -- and a fucking horse face to protect it. No matter.
I’ve got two more days to get him to see. To see that he doesn’t need these mindless, kneepad wearing groupies
to be happy. He doesn’t know. Wait until he finds out that I would do
ANYTHING for him. I won’t tell him,
he’ll just know. My head hurts. That ugly horse faced bitch.
The last I
saw of them, he had a bottle of wine and two glasses and was climbing up some
broken down bridge mechanism with her scampering right behind. PRETTY SMART move for a guy with a near
busted back.
Sheesh,
with a fucking horse face like that, she’d better swallow.
And I hope
he leaves her HIGH and DRY.
HAHAHAHAHAAA
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