The Sound of Your Voice

Ziggy was somewhat dressed down. He was wearing a plain denim jacket over a baby blue tank top and artfully distressed jeans. I couldn’t really make out his face what with him backlit by the sun, which meant he was wearing very little or no eyeliner.
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Destroyer

Let’s face it. If we’re going to blame anyone, we should blame my parents—two people who each lived in their own reality while constantly undermining the realities of the people around them. When I was growing up they made me constantly second-guess myself and my right to exist, and made me question the motivations of everyone around me.
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Here Comes the Flood

(Okay, you know I’ve reverted to a really messed up state of mind when I get the posts out of order. *THIS* is the post that should have been posted today, and the post you may have seen before, “Destroyer” was for Thursday. Well, you got a sneak peek of how jumbled my mind was! I’ve just moved “Destroyer” to Thursday so I guess at least I saved some of you guys from a kinda cliffhanger? -daron)

I really thought if I could just finish that last show, I’d be in the clear. We arrived in Rio two days before the final show and the finish line was in sight. Maybe that meant everyone let their guard down a little—me and my handlers included.

“Just push through” seems like a really good strategy when you can count the days until you can sleep in your own bed on one scarred-up hand.
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Cold Turkey

I think it was after I fell asleep during drum rehearsal that me and Flip and Carynne re-evaluated our strategy for the remaining scant Vitamin F supply we had. I seem to recall being in a van when we had this conversation. It’s difficult for me to remember certain details, for the obvious reason my brain wasn’t working very well.

I do remember Flip saying, “Cold turkey is wrecking you, D.”
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Couple Days Off

I’m not going to lie. Cyclobenzaprine withdrawal sucked. And from what I hear, for me it sucked particularly.

By nightfall every muscle in my body hurt. Have you ever had one of those laughing fits where you laugh so hard and so long that your ribs and stomach hurt like hell? Now imagine that without the laughing, and add in other parts of your body, too, and you have some idea what I felt like. Continue Reading »

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Running on Empty

What the hell are emotions, anyway?
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House of Pain

(Happy New Year, everyone! Here’s to a better 2018, eh? -ctan)

Room service brought us food. Since we were in a fancy suite we had an actual dining table made of some fancy wood. I don’t remember what I ate, but it was very grounding. The headache in my ears intensified, though–I could feel it all the way down to my jaws.

Ziggy gave me some Tylenol and said I should drink his coffee. “Maybe you’re having a caffeine headache.”
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Here Comes the Rain Again

That afternoon we had the worst sex ever. Okay, no, that’s an exaggeration. The worst sex is the sex that damages your relationship. This wasn’t that bad, but it was physically stressful, which made it emotionally stressful in a way I didn’t expect.

I can’t even tell you whose idea it was. I think we both felt it was sort of obligatory. Do you know what I mean? Like we were supposed to be all over each other after not doing it for weeks and it would be a waste to pass up the opportunity of being alone together.
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Do You Hear What I Hear?

(Merry Christmas, DGC fans! I figured what the hey, for the holiday, let’s post a day early. -ctan)

I want you to picture a hotel suite overlooking a crowded city, large panes of glass filled with vistas of buildings everywhere. The “prez” suite took up two corners of the hotel so we could see in three different directions if we wanted to.

We didn’t really want to. Continue Reading »

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You’re My Best Friend

The landing in Sao Paulo was rough. The grab-your-armrests-and-grit-your-teeth kind of rough. But we and the plane survived.

“No plane crash metaphors in your next song,” Bart muttered as we taxied.
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