Untogether
The internet is so full of somebodies that it's very easy to hurt a person without meaning to at all. And I swear hand on heart I never meant to poke around at anyone's wounds or dance on anyone's toes. I understand first hand how you feel and I'm really sorry. I hope everything's ok.
I don't really want to talk about Saturday. Not everyone was horrible though (in fact a very tiny minority) and a lot people even made a point of saying we were great fun. I shall say only the following, mainly to stop the influx of text messages regarding said gig that I really do not wish to respond to.
Favourite bits:
Little hair boys slipping me phone numbers and doing the 'my mate fancies you thing'
Dancing to Magenta and Delaware (new favourite band??)
Shouting encouragement to No Offence But who are comedy geniuses
Watching wee Mike becoming every1s favouritist gig organiser and being his eyeliner provider
Post-gig conversation with Mark who, in all his infinite wisdom, got it in one: "f**k 'em"
Bad bits:
Shaking
Redness
Letting stuff get to me
Losery sniffle in the toilets afterwards
Taking a migraine on the way home and spending the rest of the evening in drug-induced stupor
I don't ever want to play a gig again. I'm happy to just have fun in our wee practice room. I'm ready to go back to being a muse and a PR assistant to talented people now cause I can't ever imagine me getting over that stage fright, let alone sharing my song ideas with anyone.
Yesterday Mark and I ate strawberry donuts, went to Portrush and then had a pizzathon. He revealed the terrifying possibility that he may be getting his mitts on a copy of 'that Apogee song Lucy Lu' (insert obscenities here)
I really don't want to be in work after my lovely week off. Please let the power go off or something.
I don't really want to talk about Saturday. Not everyone was horrible though (in fact a very tiny minority) and a lot people even made a point of saying we were great fun. I shall say only the following, mainly to stop the influx of text messages regarding said gig that I really do not wish to respond to.
Favourite bits:
Little hair boys slipping me phone numbers and doing the 'my mate fancies you thing'
Dancing to Magenta and Delaware (new favourite band??)
Shouting encouragement to No Offence But who are comedy geniuses
Watching wee Mike becoming every1s favouritist gig organiser and being his eyeliner provider
Post-gig conversation with Mark who, in all his infinite wisdom, got it in one: "f**k 'em"
Bad bits:
Shaking
Redness
Letting stuff get to me
Losery sniffle in the toilets afterwards
Taking a migraine on the way home and spending the rest of the evening in drug-induced stupor
I don't ever want to play a gig again. I'm happy to just have fun in our wee practice room. I'm ready to go back to being a muse and a PR assistant to talented people now cause I can't ever imagine me getting over that stage fright, let alone sharing my song ideas with anyone.
Yesterday Mark and I ate strawberry donuts, went to Portrush and then had a pizzathon. He revealed the terrifying possibility that he may be getting his mitts on a copy of 'that Apogee song Lucy Lu' (insert obscenities here)
I really don't want to be in work after my lovely week off. Please let the power go off or something.