Post by emlyn on May 3, 2010 20:45:49 GMT -8
}--seven days and six more nights to go,
till i can find a way to say goodbye to you.--{
}--and it's colder than i ever thought it would be.--{
well hai thurr, this post is for steeleypoo and it's approximately 1145 words long, without coding, and you can picture mister sexy em in the clothes from the pic, so yeah! the lyrics are from 'how dirty boys get clean' by my american heart and this whole template is by me, asho, although the graphic is by lana. and yes, it is pretty much a copy and paste/recyled post, shushso, let's go!
till i can find a way to say goodbye to you.--{
}--and it's colder than i ever thought it would be.--{
well hai thurr, this post is for steeleypoo and it's approximately 1145 words long, without coding, and you can picture mister sexy em in the clothes from the pic, so yeah! the lyrics are from 'how dirty boys get clean' by my american heart and this whole template is by me, asho, although the graphic is by lana. and yes, it is pretty much a copy and paste/recyled post, shushso, let's go!
[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]emlyn james ramone was by no stretch of the imagination a lightweight. in fact, it appeared that, with all the mass amounts of alcohol he'd forced it to take on in a short amount of time (being a rockstar meant partying, uh, fucking duh?), his body had made it seem totally acceptable...until the next morning. he didn't really get sick anymore, thank god, but that didn't mean anything about the damn headaches. oh lord, those suckers, coupled with remembering what had happened in flashes and bursts, as he tended to have happen, was almost enough to make him give up the whole damn habit. heh, almost. but the fact was, he loved the party lifestyle and it seemed a damn crying shame to be a rockstar and not live up to the glory of it, right? so knowing that he would have to be in the studio the next day was no excuse for our anti-hero (one who has qualities nontypical of that of a hero, in this case a whole battalion of addictions, a big smart mouth, and enough narcissism to drown a cat, to name just a few) was certainly no reason to deter him from a late-night binge and fuck with some nameless girl, right? of course not! it was just...waking up the next morning. thank god his entire style was that of the sexy-without-trying, which enabled him to stumble loudly to the bathroom, do a quick shower to get rid of the post-party odors of sweat, booze, and of course, sex. then it was a quick push-my-hands-through-my-hair-to-get-it-to-do-that-sexy-stick-up-like-a-parrot thing and throw on some clothes and he was out the door. thankfully his band was pretty forgiving about his partying ways (and hell, did a lot of the same shit as he did, they'd all even attended the same drunken shindig) so it was in fact another twenty-five minutes before the last of their motley crew of bad boys ambled in to start recording.
now let's fast forward approximately four hours. our dear emlyn's post-drinking hangover headache has all but abated, and his memory is almost completely intact again, having come to him in spurts and flashes whilst shredding his bass as was his job in such a crazy band as scream exalibur (known to their fans as s.ex), something that claimed crazy stage charisma, flirting, a way with the crowd, and influences in cobra starship, 30h!3, and all time low. and now that everything was all right with the world, including three new tracks now sealed away until their next album's release, emlyn was ready to go out and do the whole cycle of partying and piecing it all back together the next morning again. you could almost say he never learned, but really, he didn't want to learn anything, he was perfectly content making the same stupid mistakes over again. he knew he'd wake up with some naked girl (or boy, all right) in his bed the next morning, no recollection of who they were or if they were worth anything in the sack, and a killer headache. he knew it, and he was fine with it, because it was totally worth it. he got paid for this shit, what could anybody ask from him but to live it up? if he had to justify it (which he often was asked to, not that he gave a fuck if the questioner approved or not, in fact it made him more likely to go and do it again just to piss off or offend people), he'd say something about how it helped him to have more experiences to write about....because, of course, ninety percent of their songs were about partying, sex, booze, and the lifestyle. only two songs had ever snuck in there that were sometimes, in moments of hopefulness at their "being tamed", had been called by fans 'love songs', and they sure as hell hadn't come out of emlyn's mind! hell no, he loved his lifestyle, love would just kill it all and to be honest (he always was, lying wasn't worth the effort, especially not to himself), it scared him to death. so he just didn't go there, he rationalized whatever popped up and it was all good.
}--stars that i still see from the times,
that you made me so sick, so cold, so alone,
that i can break with just one push of your tongue.--{
that you made me so sick, so cold, so alone,
that i can break with just one push of your tongue.--{
[/size]completely disregarding the sign (and admonishments from the present label staff) that smoking was absolutely not allowed indoors, he proceeded to light up a lonely fag, taking a deep drag and relaxing in the padded room he'd just sweated out three whole songs with his best friends in. it was a nice feeling, he wouldn't lie, playing gave him a high, the high that he had to thank his entire current situation for. if it hadn't been for it, hell, he'd probably have found cocaine or something to better occupy his time, but hey, there was still time, right? hah, just kidding, he was quite proud of his current physical state (cough, vain bastard) and he didn't particularly want to trash it with unattractive white powder...but that was another thing. as for cigarettes (and booze, as we've very clearly established), well, he didn't need his liver or his lungs right? hah, as long as he was finely muscled and aloofly attractive on the outside, that was.
finishing the cigarette and extinguishing the butt in a nearby ashtray (the staff knew they would only do it anyway, they apparently figured verbally discouraging it and leaving a tray nearby to keep them out of the floor was the best way to go about it, they were about not having false illusions of chastity too apparently), em was left with nothing really to do. it was about four in the afternoon, too soon for even him to start partying, and aspen definetely left something to be desired a fair amount of the time. so that left people to entertain him, without booze or parties as his fall-back. well fine then, he could do that, he'd always been the best at talking to people. he bragged of his abilities to read (and manipulate) them, and he had a natural charisma; even those who hated him and his arrogant, beguiling ways couldn't deny that he had charm, it was something scream excalibur was built on. how else could you get away with singing about the little-to-no value of your one night stands and still super easily get them?
departing his little cubile-o-musical-prowess with his bass seerie (yeah, when you were such an awesome badass in such a good band as his you could name your instruments and get away with it) slung over his shoulder, he was ready to hit the streets. the term that should pop into your head should be 'swagger', dear readers, because mister ramone oozed it, he friggin' was the master of it, and it was so easy to see why people adored, worshipped, idolized, drooled over, or hated him for it...sometimes even all at once.
}--yeah, and i just find a way to say goodbye to you--{