TRUTH: Rockstars ARE From Another Planet (WARNING: contains pictures of musicians)
Rockstars are not like you or me.
Tim Wheeler (Ash) has good dental hygeine!
It is just as you have always suspected, THEY are not like US. By "they", I mean Rockstars. By "us", I mean you and me. Humans.
If you have not already suspected as much, thanks to the existence of David Bowie in this world, then I hate to break the news. But it is true. They are not like us.
Drinking & goofing off with Charlotte & Mark (Ash)
Oh, they LOOK like us. They even have two arms and legs. Reportedly they also have functioning genitalia, but that's an assumption you'll have to take on faith.
Because they do not ever go to the bathroom.
"Nick Pagan" of The Changelings. P.S. This picture is cheating, because we were dating at the time, and I happen to know he had parts and went potty.
It dawned on me that, after spending seven or eight days (not consecutively) with our latest "pet Rockstar" (ha!), that he NEVER excuses himself to go answer the call of Nature. And, upon reflection, I couldn't remember any of the others excusing themselves either. Oh sure, some went off to the bathrooms at the East Side Lounge to inspect some pharmaceutical rep's wares (*cough*), but no actual eliminatory bodily functions occurred.
Me, Courtney from the Dandy Warhols, darlin' friend DJ Dennis
They transmute this bodily waste into something else. Perhaps the sun shines out of their behinds.
Another thing. They all have incredibly quirky dietary needs. They have allergies and fat restrictions and vegan palates and a taste for food and drink that cost per serving more than I pay in rent and utilities per month. So bring on the champagne and the truffles and the Kobe beef tips and the exotic mystery vegetables from Rhodesia and Zaire and the Falkland Islands and Umn Al Qaiwain.
Zia McCabe (Dandy Warhols) and me
But nothing with any fat content. They are allergic to fat.
This is why they are approximately as big around as my wrist, which is already incredibly small, and why they do not jiggle when they walk, and why you could bounce a quarter off their taut asses.
Simon Le Bum, disproving my "all rockstars are rail thin" theory. Also? Is wanker.
Their percentage of body fat is a negative number. They are in a permanent state of ketosis. They are Thin White Dukes.
And you thought it was just a song.
Thou shalt not covet, even if you rilly rilly REALLY wanna. Matthias from Soundtrack Of Our Lives.
So they are thin things, and it's enough to make those of us who have just consumed mass quantities of doughnuts and Coca-Cola feel very inferior. And flabby. And gross.
Another thing: they have perfect skin. It's a light biscuit colour, and they never get sunburnt or peel. Or it is alabaster, with a delicate tracery of blue veining beneath. Or the purest, clearest blue-black ebony. They never blister. They have no blemishes. Their wrinkles are nearly non-existent, and could easily be classified as "character lines" or dimples.
Rick (Ash) & Milla. Rock'n'roll! (We're not drunk. Much.)
No wonder everyone wants to breed with them. The annoyance of acne vulgaris would no longer keep teenagers up at night. Their genetic superiority would wipe it out in less than a generation.
They also only pretend to sleep. Oh, our friend Jay pretends to get tired at about 1AM every night, but in reality he just wants to be alone so he can wrap himself in 400-thread-count 100% Egyptian cotton sheets and go hang upside down in his closet.
Plenty of room, as he only owns one black shirt, one white one, a pair of shoes, and a pair of black pants.
Former roomie Todd (The Hiss) lookin' for ladies.
See, we've got his number. He forgot to look at someone else's watch on Saturday last, and stayed out with us until past 5AM. And never yawned or expressed fatigue until he did hear what time it was.
That's another thing...they do not wear watches. Their powerful personal auras probably kill all timepieces strapped to their bodies. They rely on "closing time" and the position of the stars to give them a rough idea of what time it is. And they sleep until the sound of normals coming home from work and honking at each other on the streets wakes them up.
Scott from The Pattern: he prefers stripes and leopard print.
Rockstars are also sexy, they have lots of pheromones. They are indiscriminate pheromones, as they entrance everyone of every sexual persuastion. No matter where you rank on the Kinsey Scale, you want to sneak off into the bushes with Rockstars. You can't control the urge. It's not your fault.
Joseph from ODK and me at The Fountainhead Lounge
Meanwhile, the Rockstar in question is, like all Rockstars, vaguely omnisexual and celibate. At the same time. You pretty much have to be another Rockstar or a Model creature (or something similar) to successfully breed with a Rockstar.
Or catch them on a good day.
Me, Jay Aston (Gene Loves Jezebel), & my chum Heather
On a good day, Rockstars will shag anything with a pulse. You just have to run SLOWLY and put up a LITTLE fuss to make it challenging for them.
Rockstars are also less sensitive to tactile intrusions upon their person. Whereas the normal human being jumps a mile when their buttocks are squeezed, your average Rockstar doesn't even notice anymore. They might even squeeze back, as if this is a normal form of greeting on their world.
Me with cute, sweaty Carl from The Libertines
They airkiss or come right out and smooch you on the mouth and wander off unmoved by this exchange of bodily fluid. They hug and hold hands and wink and play footsie and kneesie and have no clue that this is flirtatious behavior. Because, on their planet, everyone is overly touchy. You have sex to conclude the purchase of a Big Gulp and a bag of crisps at the corner store.
Nick Rhodes: absolutely, positively not 5'9". Also, in this photo, not sober. Viva le rockstar!
They get used to having their clothes torn off, hanks of hair ripped from their heads, and it doesn't phase them. Except the hair thing. A minor annoyance at best.
Because Rockstars have perfect hair.
Jason from (now-defunct) The Pattern & me
Some try to fool you by pretending to be bald. It's their attempt to blend in and be taken for normal humans. Don't fall for it. They have perfect hair. It may be long, it may be short, but it is always thick and immaculately groomed. It can be any colour of the rainbow, but never will you see a true Rockstar with grown-out roots from their last dye-job. Unless they WANT you to see roots because that is fashionable that week.
Whatever they do to their hair, it recovers gracefully and looks like they meant to do whatever they did. Because that's exactly what's going on.
Carl Barat (The Libertines), a self portrait. My digicam had an orgasm.
Rockstars are just different from you and me.
In fact, if you look very closely at their feet, you'll see that they are actually floating a few millimeters off the ground.
While you're down there, kissing their toes in worship, check it out for yourself.
"Darth" Mark Hamilton of Ash with Your Humble Narrator and a glowing (lightsabre?) keychain. Heh. *hic* Alcopops are tasty. Yesh.
In conclusion, I love rockstars.
With or without ketchup.