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.



Current Diesel Monkey

Fictionarium - HOME


All content ©1999 Absurd Pamphlet Press