Cydniey Buffers (cydniey) wrote,
Cydniey Buffers

I have so much to say . . .

I will endeavour to write Rose's story tonight when I get home, as well as the full version of the story I am about to sum up for you, because you really have to hear this whole story to believe it, and even then, you may still have your doubts.

Keep in mind, I am aware that I may be kidnapped and held captive to write children's English Composition papers for a stranger on the internet. But I don't think that is going to happen, and if it did, I need a change.

In an hour, I am leaving the house. I am going down the driveway and getting into the car of someone I have only emailed and texted. We will take his car back to his house, across town, where I will meet my new bandmates.

I'll give it a minute to sink in, lord knows it's been three days here, and I'm still not totally awake to what is going on.

I put an ad in Craigslist. That ad was answered. Later, I will get into the holy cosmology that I believe led to this. We talked. We had ups and downs. There is a band, men, who like to jam, and want to play out at gigs around town. They have been looking for a gimmick, a persona to lead them to infamy. The leader of this band has spent the past few days investigating me on the web, and seems to feel that I am the person that his band has been waiting for.

Dream. Come. True.

So, in an hour, I am going over to meet the band, and hear them rehearse and decided if *I* want to be a part of their group. Unless you count those two obnoxious videos of me singing on my youtube channel, I have not auditioned for this. 6 years of vocal lessons and 13 years of choir seem to be a long way away right now. As does the cover band that hired me in high school as their female lead. So far away.

I have no idea what to expect, which makes me think that this is going to be fun. Usually, as we know, if I can and do envision a thing before it happens, it doesn't happen, or it goes really really off the rails. This is blank to me. I know what his drum kit looks like (we are going to need a separate van just to take it to the clubs, and it is going to be a time consuming bitch to load in, I really hope he can wail on it), and his empty pool, and his dog. He sent me a video of him filling the empty pool and his dog playing in the pool in the water of the hose.

I'm taking a blank notebook, a variety of pens, and my poetry books with me. Just in case we have time to work on some of my stuff.

They are far away. I'm going to adjust my Patreon account so that Patrons know that their money, while still being rewarded with art, is going to transportation to get back and forth to practice. It's going to ba a $40-$50 round trip cost. I will try to get rides as often as possible, and we have already agreed that most of the collaboration will happen over the net. So I don't need to get there every day, unless a gig is coming up and need to get my tempo together with the band.

In the meantime I will set up the appropriate social media account blitz and start getting us a web following, which will help immensely when we start soliciting clubs. I want to play the Double Down Saloon, and the Bunkhouse Saloon. Those are the only two clubs that I know of that I want to play at. The rest of it is up to them to decide.

I've got a very Shirley Manson feeling about this, I want to write to her. She came here from Ireland and hooked up with strangers and look where she ended up. She is my new muse. I have a picture of her over my bed that Carter gave me a long time ago. I framed it. She hangs there to remind me that anything is possible. The framed poster of Ani DiFranco reminds me that honesty is the best, if not popular policy. These two women watch over me, with my t-shirts from girl punk bands the world over hanging on my wall. Reminding me that we can all wail.

I'm scared, is that okay? I mean, it's not enough to stop me, it is doing the opposite, driving me forward. But there is the fear of the unknown going on. This is a big door that I am stepping through. I have no idea how I got it open, I don't remember anyone knocking, I just tried the knob, and there it was. But opening the door, and the exhilaration that comes with it, is so much different than taking the first step through it. That part is scary. That is the part where the Unicorn starts to run and the rainbow spreads out to infinity. And I have to decide, do I swallow my fear and jump on the unicorn before I lose sight of him? Do I go up the rainbow road to infinity?

Yes. Yes, I do. I pull my boots on, apply some eyeliner, and march right through that door. And if someone hands me a microphone, well, then, that's all I've been waiting for all these years. I can be bigger than Gaga, bigger than Sia. I can't compete with sheer talent, but I have a raw life that lends itself to the business in a way that hasn't been seen before. I was born to be a rock star. I was born to be up on stage.

Mos, the owner of the Double Down, used to play these spliced-together videos of 50's porn and 50's horror. I want something like this projected in the background when we play live. All I need to do is get a hold of the footage (I'll either get it from Mos, or I will compile it myself), and get a cheap projector for my laptop. We can set it up behind the drum kit and make an impression.

I'm also thinking, and I will address this tonight, that to start a show, I come out in the dark, one dim light (the small clubs we are aiming for won't have spot lights), and read a poem. While I'm reading, in the dark, the guys take the stage, and when the poem ends, suddenly break into an awesome jam and start the show. I think it will make an impression, and get the attention of the audience. And make for a good show.

Okay. I have to go get ready. Roll cigarettes, get my water together. Get dressed. Oh, man, I am so scared. Doc is asleep, which is blissful. He has been less than supportive of this. He laughed out loud at my Shirley Manson comparison. I stopped talking to him after that, and he went to sleep. Thank the Universe.

Okay, time to get ready. I'll write later tonight after I come down. I wonder if they are 420 friendly. Probably not, they have kids. At least I can sneak outside and have a cigarette.

Remind me to tell you about the Steel Phantom roller coaster in PA, it's connected to how I feel right now.

Please let them like me. Please.

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