Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Fiction Outtake: Bored on the Bus (Trevor's Song Era)
They'd been on the bus for what felt like weeks. So long that they were way overdue for a day off inside of an actual hotel room -- and every single member of ShapeShifter was grossed out by the thought of how excited they were about something as sterile and isolated as a hotel room. But at this point, with only the bus or the inside of the venue to look at, a hotel seemed like the ultimate luxury.
During these stretches, it wasn't unusual for no one to talk. No one had anything to say, really. Not when you were spending exactly every waking minute with each other. Not when you'd done this dance for years.
Mitchell didn't even have much to say to Kerri, which was pretty pathetic considering they were still newlyweds. She didn't seem to care, except that she was as bored as the rest of them. So bored that she had squished herself on the couch beside him, her chin on his upraised knee. Instead of drawing, she was playing idly with the hair on his leg. He knew she wouldn't be doing it if he'd put his jeans back on, but when all you were doing was sitting on a bus, why bother with pants?
He could only take so much of Kerri's petting and stroking. It wasn't hot, it wasn't comforting. It was just damn annoying.
He lifted his leg and straightened it, moving gently so he didn't startle her onto the floor or hurt her. "Woman," he growled, "my leg is not a guitar. If you want to strum something, go find one."
With a shrug, Kerri stood up.
"What are you doing?" He knew he flailed as he sat up, but he didn't care. She'd been supposed to stop petting him, not do … whatever.
"Getting a guitar," she said carelessly, and disappeared into the bunks.
Eric and Daniel chuckled as Mitchell groaned, but Trevor nodded. "That'll teach your dumb ass," the bass player said and lit a cigarette. "You know she can't resist a challenge. Even an easy one like that."
"At least it'll give us something to do," Daniel said as Kerri came back carrying Mabel.
She sat down at the other end of Trevor's couch, facing Mitchell, and put the guitar properly on her right leg. Then she shook out her hair and straightened her back, looking to the table at Eric. Mitchell noticed how pointedly she ignored him. He tried to keep his latest groan inaudible; it would only egg her on.
"So. What do I do now?" she asked Eric, a too-bright smile plastered to her face.
Mitchell wanted to cover his own face with his hands. Anything to keep from watching this. But he couldn't look away.
"You need a pick," Eric said.
Kerri handed the guitar to Trevor, who took it with a sneer. She stood up, watching Mitchell as if she expected him to do something.
"What?" he asked as she stared down at him. Fuck, but he hated it when she smiled like that. All smug and full of herself -- and about to make him the butt of some joke, he was sure. Anyone with a shred of common sense would get up and leave before it happened, but he was stuck there, both by his own inertia and some sick need to be present.
Kerri bent down so she could reach across him, making sure she brushed her breast against his face. She dug in the change pocket of his jeans.
He refused to so much as breathe until she came up with one of the eight million or so picks they'd had made for this tour. He told himself not to panic; he still had two others in there. And maybe she'd give it back. Or, even better, make him come looking for it.
She smirked at him as she reseated herself and took Mabel back from Trevor.
"Okay," she said to Eric, "now what?"
Trevor leaned forward as Eric motioned Mitchell out of the way so he could sit across from Kerri and give her instructions. She made a show of not knowing how to hold the pick or how to use it.
Her performance set Mitchell's teeth on edge. And that was before she struck a note.
"What about my face?" she asked when Eric told her she was ready to move on to the next step.
"What about it?" Eric asked.
"Not even Asshole there can play guitar with his face," Trevor said, jerking his chin at Mitchell, who growled. Kerri didn't need to know about the time he'd tried. Hell, Mitchell wasn't srue Trevor knew about it.
Kerri took a deep, exaggerated breath. "I know that," she said. "But to watch the three of you, in order to play guitar, you also have to make faces. Like this," she said, puckering up like she'd eaten a lemon. "Or this," she said, opening her mouth and widening her eyes.
Daniel laughed.
"Oh, you're not much better, you know," Kerri said, pointing the pick at him. She stuck her tongue into her cheek and, again, let her jaw drop open.
Mitchell bit back a smile, but Eric didn't bother hiding it. Her faces were poor imitations of theirs, but they got the point across. Daniel pretended he didn't care, and Trevor was pretending he wasn't paying attention, even though his eyes flicked back and forth. He was, like always, too full of himself to give in and have a good time, especially because it was Kerri at the root of it all. Trevor couldn't stand it when she pulled shit like this -- because he wanted to be the one at the center of it.
"You know what's going to happen now?" Daniel asked, picking up Eric's cigarettes and fiddling with the pack. "We're going to get on stage tonight and obsess about our faces."
That was entirely too true.
Mitchell told himself he shouldn't care. Guitar players were supposed to make faces; the girls in the crowd ate it up. The guys thought it was the path to coolness -- and a lot of them practiced their faces more than they did their guitars even though the more you played, the more natural the faces turned. It was all part of rock and roll.
Besides, he told himself as Kerri tried to stand up, only to discover the hard way that guitars had straps for a specific reason, if this got inside his head too bad, he'd divorce the wench.
But in the meantime, at least he wasn't bored.
Has it been too long since we've had an outtake just for the fun or it, or WHAT?
If you're new around here, the best way to figure out what's up is to head over to my main website and poke around. Or click on each character's name above; that'll take you to their character sketch page on the website. You can read about everyone, or click on some of the links at the bottom of the page and be taken back here to the blog for more of the gang in action.
During these stretches, it wasn't unusual for no one to talk. No one had anything to say, really. Not when you were spending exactly every waking minute with each other. Not when you'd done this dance for years.
Mitchell didn't even have much to say to Kerri, which was pretty pathetic considering they were still newlyweds. She didn't seem to care, except that she was as bored as the rest of them. So bored that she had squished herself on the couch beside him, her chin on his upraised knee. Instead of drawing, she was playing idly with the hair on his leg. He knew she wouldn't be doing it if he'd put his jeans back on, but when all you were doing was sitting on a bus, why bother with pants?
He could only take so much of Kerri's petting and stroking. It wasn't hot, it wasn't comforting. It was just damn annoying.
He lifted his leg and straightened it, moving gently so he didn't startle her onto the floor or hurt her. "Woman," he growled, "my leg is not a guitar. If you want to strum something, go find one."
With a shrug, Kerri stood up.
"What are you doing?" He knew he flailed as he sat up, but he didn't care. She'd been supposed to stop petting him, not do … whatever.
"Getting a guitar," she said carelessly, and disappeared into the bunks.
Eric and Daniel chuckled as Mitchell groaned, but Trevor nodded. "That'll teach your dumb ass," the bass player said and lit a cigarette. "You know she can't resist a challenge. Even an easy one like that."
"At least it'll give us something to do," Daniel said as Kerri came back carrying Mabel.
She sat down at the other end of Trevor's couch, facing Mitchell, and put the guitar properly on her right leg. Then she shook out her hair and straightened her back, looking to the table at Eric. Mitchell noticed how pointedly she ignored him. He tried to keep his latest groan inaudible; it would only egg her on.
"So. What do I do now?" she asked Eric, a too-bright smile plastered to her face.
Mitchell wanted to cover his own face with his hands. Anything to keep from watching this. But he couldn't look away.
"You need a pick," Eric said.
Kerri handed the guitar to Trevor, who took it with a sneer. She stood up, watching Mitchell as if she expected him to do something.
"What?" he asked as she stared down at him. Fuck, but he hated it when she smiled like that. All smug and full of herself -- and about to make him the butt of some joke, he was sure. Anyone with a shred of common sense would get up and leave before it happened, but he was stuck there, both by his own inertia and some sick need to be present.
Kerri bent down so she could reach across him, making sure she brushed her breast against his face. She dug in the change pocket of his jeans.
He refused to so much as breathe until she came up with one of the eight million or so picks they'd had made for this tour. He told himself not to panic; he still had two others in there. And maybe she'd give it back. Or, even better, make him come looking for it.
She smirked at him as she reseated herself and took Mabel back from Trevor.
"Okay," she said to Eric, "now what?"
Trevor leaned forward as Eric motioned Mitchell out of the way so he could sit across from Kerri and give her instructions. She made a show of not knowing how to hold the pick or how to use it.
Her performance set Mitchell's teeth on edge. And that was before she struck a note.
"What about my face?" she asked when Eric told her she was ready to move on to the next step.
"What about it?" Eric asked.
"Not even Asshole there can play guitar with his face," Trevor said, jerking his chin at Mitchell, who growled. Kerri didn't need to know about the time he'd tried. Hell, Mitchell wasn't srue Trevor knew about it.
Kerri took a deep, exaggerated breath. "I know that," she said. "But to watch the three of you, in order to play guitar, you also have to make faces. Like this," she said, puckering up like she'd eaten a lemon. "Or this," she said, opening her mouth and widening her eyes.
Daniel laughed.
"Oh, you're not much better, you know," Kerri said, pointing the pick at him. She stuck her tongue into her cheek and, again, let her jaw drop open.
Mitchell bit back a smile, but Eric didn't bother hiding it. Her faces were poor imitations of theirs, but they got the point across. Daniel pretended he didn't care, and Trevor was pretending he wasn't paying attention, even though his eyes flicked back and forth. He was, like always, too full of himself to give in and have a good time, especially because it was Kerri at the root of it all. Trevor couldn't stand it when she pulled shit like this -- because he wanted to be the one at the center of it.
"You know what's going to happen now?" Daniel asked, picking up Eric's cigarettes and fiddling with the pack. "We're going to get on stage tonight and obsess about our faces."
That was entirely too true.
Mitchell told himself he shouldn't care. Guitar players were supposed to make faces; the girls in the crowd ate it up. The guys thought it was the path to coolness -- and a lot of them practiced their faces more than they did their guitars even though the more you played, the more natural the faces turned. It was all part of rock and roll.
Besides, he told himself as Kerri tried to stand up, only to discover the hard way that guitars had straps for a specific reason, if this got inside his head too bad, he'd divorce the wench.
But in the meantime, at least he wasn't bored.
Has it been too long since we've had an outtake just for the fun or it, or WHAT?
If you're new around here, the best way to figure out what's up is to head over to my main website and poke around. Or click on each character's name above; that'll take you to their character sketch page on the website. You can read about everyone, or click on some of the links at the bottom of the page and be taken back here to the blog for more of the gang in action.
Labels: creative writing, Daniel, Eric, fiction, fiction outtake, Mitchell, ShapeShifter, touring, Trevor
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Fiction Outtake: Key Lime Pie (Trevor's Song era)
No Thirteen this week, as I'm off to Cub Scout Camp again this summer. As a treat, I thought I'd show you what you guys inspired, based on your responses to this Thirteen I wrote back in May. Hope you like it; there may be more to follow if you do.
Eric didn't notice it until he was on his way back to sound check. He'd just taken a bathroom break that had been long enough to make his tech feel like part of the band instead of the stand-in for the real guitarist. Stupid touring; it got to him like this every few weeks, it seemed. It got to all of them, but he swore, he got it the worst.
He stopped by the deli tray to grab a slice of turkey. That's when he noticed it, sitting on the end of the table like it didn't need to be kept cold or anything.
Mitchell was not going to be happy about it.
Eric wasn't quite out of the dressing room when the rest of the guys pushed through the door.
"Nice of you to come back," Trevor told him with one of his usual sneers. "I thought you were a member of ShapeShifter."
"I didn't really want the guy puking on stage," Mitchell told the bass player. Eric tried to get a feel for the guy's mood. Sometimes, sound check went well and mellowed Mitchell out. Sometimes, it totally sucked and the guy was a dragon. Right now, he was talkative.
"Remember what happened when that one roadie puked?" Mitchell asked. "How fucking bad it smelled? And it lasted until the end of the tour, too. No, Eric, you did the right thing, ducking out on us. We wrote a new song," the band leader said.
Eric smiled wanly and flopped down on the couch. Mitchell was in a good enough mood. Maybe he wouldn't hurt someone when he noticed it.
… or then again, maybe he would, Eric thought when Mitchell growled, "What the fuck is that?"
Eric sat up to look.
Mitchell stood in front of it, breathing so hard, his nostrils flared. "Get someone in here who can explain this," he said.
Since the four of them were alone at the moment, Daniel jumped to do it.
"Just use it for an ashtray," Trevor said, taking his cigarette out of his mouth and reaching to lead by example.
Mitchell strong-armed him out of the way.
"Well, fuck you, too," Trevor said.
"Not until we get some fucking answers," Mitchell growled. He hadn't taken his eyes off it. Eric wasn't sure he would, even though it was pretty obvious the thing wasn't going to move by itself.
Daniel came back. "They're going to find someone," he said and stood on his toes to peek over Mitchell's shoulder, as if he needed to be shielded from it. "At least this one's not green."
Mitchell growled more loudly. Daniel backed off. Even Trevor took a step back.
A few minutes passed with no one really knowing what to do. All four of them kept throwing glances at it, like they expected it to get up and come after them or something. Maybe melt, Eric decided, picking up a can of Coke from a bus tray full of melting ice. If that ice was melting, there was no way the non-green thing was in good shape.
Not like any of them would be dumb enough to eat it.
"There's a problem?" The mousy man who led Charlie, the band's tour manager, into the dressing room had seven strands of hair left at the front of his head. They'd been pulled back into a ponytail and they made the guy instantly memorable.
Charlie peeked over Mitchell's shoulder. "Whoa. That's some bad vibes." He turned to the mousy guy. "That a key lime pie?"
Mousy guy nodded. "My wife made it. She said she read in a magazine that you guys like key lime pies."
From across the room, Eric could hear Mitchell breathing. Hard. He closed his eyes and hoped the guy wasn't about to explode.
"Take it out of here," Mitchell said. It wasn't a request.
"But my wife…"
"Take it!"
"What'll I tell her?" The guy's eyes were darting everywhere, like he was about to panic.
Mitchell picked up the pie and pressed it firmly into the guy's chest. "Tell her you hope it doesn't stain. And tell her she needs to be more careful about what she reads because we fucking hate key lime pie."
He let go. Half the pie fell to the floor. The other half stuck to the guy's shirt.
"Oh," the guy said in such a small voice, it was almost a squeak.
Eric stood up. "Look," he said, "thank your wife for the pie, but explain to her that she read an article written by a reporter who has a problem with us ever since Trevor puked on him after eating a key lime pie that some fan had made."
"But my wife…"
Daniel put a hand on the guy's shoulder, looking with distaste at the custard smeared on his shirt, "Was wrong, and you got off light. We're the band. This pie was a violation of our concert rider and we could pull even more of a prima donna routine and make you very unhappy. You got off light. Hell, Charlie, give the guy a free t-shirt to wear and then call JR. We don't do shows with this joker anymore."
The mousy guy paled. "But…"
Mitchell started to laugh. "You're the promoter and you fucked up this royally? Dude, you're done. Go fucking sell real estate or something." He jerked his head toward the door and Charlie sprang into action, escorting the mousy promoter dude out of the dressing room.
Trevor and Daniel laughed. Even Mitchell relaxed enough to smile.
"The best laid plans…" Eric said and decided that pie or no, he needed to return to the bathroom.
Ahh, yes. Sometimes, it sucks to be in a band. If you're new to ShapeShifter, or if you want to read more, click on the links in each band member's name. That'll take you to that person's bio page. Once you've read the bio and gotten a bit of a background on them, you can follow the links at the bottom to read more of their adventures.
Not sure where to start?
Here are a few of my favorite ShapeShifter adventures on the road:
Backstage Party
Bean Dip #1
Bean Dip #2
Green Hair Week -- The Concert (You may need to read the whole series to really get it, but it's fun.)
If you need me for anything, I'll be back in a few days. The Tour Manager will hold the fort down while I'm gone.
Eric didn't notice it until he was on his way back to sound check. He'd just taken a bathroom break that had been long enough to make his tech feel like part of the band instead of the stand-in for the real guitarist. Stupid touring; it got to him like this every few weeks, it seemed. It got to all of them, but he swore, he got it the worst.
He stopped by the deli tray to grab a slice of turkey. That's when he noticed it, sitting on the end of the table like it didn't need to be kept cold or anything.
Mitchell was not going to be happy about it.
Eric wasn't quite out of the dressing room when the rest of the guys pushed through the door.
"Nice of you to come back," Trevor told him with one of his usual sneers. "I thought you were a member of ShapeShifter."
"I didn't really want the guy puking on stage," Mitchell told the bass player. Eric tried to get a feel for the guy's mood. Sometimes, sound check went well and mellowed Mitchell out. Sometimes, it totally sucked and the guy was a dragon. Right now, he was talkative.
"Remember what happened when that one roadie puked?" Mitchell asked. "How fucking bad it smelled? And it lasted until the end of the tour, too. No, Eric, you did the right thing, ducking out on us. We wrote a new song," the band leader said.
Eric smiled wanly and flopped down on the couch. Mitchell was in a good enough mood. Maybe he wouldn't hurt someone when he noticed it.
… or then again, maybe he would, Eric thought when Mitchell growled, "What the fuck is that?"
Eric sat up to look.
Mitchell stood in front of it, breathing so hard, his nostrils flared. "Get someone in here who can explain this," he said.
Since the four of them were alone at the moment, Daniel jumped to do it.
"Just use it for an ashtray," Trevor said, taking his cigarette out of his mouth and reaching to lead by example.
Mitchell strong-armed him out of the way.
"Well, fuck you, too," Trevor said.
"Not until we get some fucking answers," Mitchell growled. He hadn't taken his eyes off it. Eric wasn't sure he would, even though it was pretty obvious the thing wasn't going to move by itself.
Daniel came back. "They're going to find someone," he said and stood on his toes to peek over Mitchell's shoulder, as if he needed to be shielded from it. "At least this one's not green."
Mitchell growled more loudly. Daniel backed off. Even Trevor took a step back.
A few minutes passed with no one really knowing what to do. All four of them kept throwing glances at it, like they expected it to get up and come after them or something. Maybe melt, Eric decided, picking up a can of Coke from a bus tray full of melting ice. If that ice was melting, there was no way the non-green thing was in good shape.
Not like any of them would be dumb enough to eat it.
"There's a problem?" The mousy man who led Charlie, the band's tour manager, into the dressing room had seven strands of hair left at the front of his head. They'd been pulled back into a ponytail and they made the guy instantly memorable.
Charlie peeked over Mitchell's shoulder. "Whoa. That's some bad vibes." He turned to the mousy guy. "That a key lime pie?"
Mousy guy nodded. "My wife made it. She said she read in a magazine that you guys like key lime pies."
From across the room, Eric could hear Mitchell breathing. Hard. He closed his eyes and hoped the guy wasn't about to explode.
"Take it out of here," Mitchell said. It wasn't a request.
"But my wife…"
"Take it!"
"What'll I tell her?" The guy's eyes were darting everywhere, like he was about to panic.
Mitchell picked up the pie and pressed it firmly into the guy's chest. "Tell her you hope it doesn't stain. And tell her she needs to be more careful about what she reads because we fucking hate key lime pie."
He let go. Half the pie fell to the floor. The other half stuck to the guy's shirt.
"Oh," the guy said in such a small voice, it was almost a squeak.
Eric stood up. "Look," he said, "thank your wife for the pie, but explain to her that she read an article written by a reporter who has a problem with us ever since Trevor puked on him after eating a key lime pie that some fan had made."
"But my wife…"
Daniel put a hand on the guy's shoulder, looking with distaste at the custard smeared on his shirt, "Was wrong, and you got off light. We're the band. This pie was a violation of our concert rider and we could pull even more of a prima donna routine and make you very unhappy. You got off light. Hell, Charlie, give the guy a free t-shirt to wear and then call JR. We don't do shows with this joker anymore."
The mousy guy paled. "But…"
Mitchell started to laugh. "You're the promoter and you fucked up this royally? Dude, you're done. Go fucking sell real estate or something." He jerked his head toward the door and Charlie sprang into action, escorting the mousy promoter dude out of the dressing room.
Trevor and Daniel laughed. Even Mitchell relaxed enough to smile.
"The best laid plans…" Eric said and decided that pie or no, he needed to return to the bathroom.
Ahh, yes. Sometimes, it sucks to be in a band. If you're new to ShapeShifter, or if you want to read more, click on the links in each band member's name. That'll take you to that person's bio page. Once you've read the bio and gotten a bit of a background on them, you can follow the links at the bottom to read more of their adventures.
Not sure where to start?
Here are a few of my favorite ShapeShifter adventures on the road:
Backstage Party
Bean Dip #1
Bean Dip #2
Green Hair Week -- The Concert (You may need to read the whole series to really get it, but it's fun.)
If you need me for anything, I'll be back in a few days. The Tour Manager will hold the fort down while I'm gone.
Labels: creative writing, Daniel, Eric, fiction, fiction outtake, Mitchell, ShapeShifter, touring, Trevor
Sunday, July 06, 2008
Springer Fiction: Encountering Eric
It was nothing more than wishful thinking. Springer knew that. He knew that affording anything more than a new D string was out of the question. But he couldn't help himself. He had to stop in at Guitars by Gus and see what was new. Even a guy like him was allowed to dream.
Good thing dreaming was free. Since scrambling to put all that money together for the ShapeShifter Musical Hanukkah Celebration last December, Springer had been broke. His car insurance had come due, and since he had a job, Dad had made him cough up the cash for it.
"Son, you don't pay rent," Dad had pointed out.
Springer kept his mouth shut and handed over fifty bucks from his pay each week. That left him with just enough to fill his gas tank, although lately that hadn't been so easy, either. Springer had made his girl do some of the driving, but she hadn't been happy about it, and she let him know it.
Doing shit with her hadn't been happening much lately. Springer didn't want to think too much about that. He didn't want to think about much -- he just wanted to drop into Guitars by Gus and dream a little.
The shop was buzzing when he walked in. No one noticed him come through the door, which wasn't normal. Usually, you walked in and Gus himself or one of his kids was there to say hi. Today, no one.
That's because people were packed in. It was like someone was giving a clinic, one everyone else in town had known about, probably because they stopped in more often than once every few months.
Springer craned his neck, trying to see who was the cause of all the excitement.
No go.
He turned around and read the flyers taped to the front door, trying to read signs that weren't facing him. If there was anything there about a clinic today, he couldn't see it. Maybe it had been taken down.
Three people came in behind him, pushing Springer into the line to meet whoever it was. He tried eavesdropping on the conversations around him to find out who it was, but all he could hear was, "I brung this so he can sign it!"
As Springer got closer to the front of the line, one of Gus' sons shoved an oversize cardboard cover of the latest ShapeShifter album in his hands. "Here. You'll need this."
Springer stared at it in shock. No way. No fucking way. There was just no fucking way on this planet that he'd chanced into an in-store signing with someone from ShapeShifter. If only it was Eric… if only he could tell him what getting on stage with him at the Musical Hanukkah Celebration had meant. If only…
If only Springer's luck didn't suck. Seriously about that no fucking way bit. By the time he'd get up there, it'd turn out to be the other two. Or the drummer. Or Eric would get up and leave right before Springer could make eye contact with him or…
And then it was his turn, and it was Eric and …
Springer's mouth went dry. He tried swirling his tongue around in his mouth. Nothing.
Eric was looking at him. Hard. "I've seen you around somewhere…" the guitar god said.
Springer nodded and tried for words as he set the cover flat down on the table between them. "Musical…"
"Musical? Like South Pacific?"
Springer shook his head and held his hands up in Air Guitar position.
Eric nodded. "You won a jam with us at the Musical Hanukkah Celebration."
Springer nodded and just like that, the saliva returned to his mouth. So did the words. "That was so fucking cool to do. Man, if I could win it again next year, my life would be set, know that?"
Part of him stared in terror as his mouth kept flapping, spilling the worst case of the runs Springer'd had since the time he ate that bad bean burrito.
Eric was good about it, nodding and signing the cover flat Springer had set down, then flipping it over and writing something else.
Until he handed it back and made a motion with his head that Springer should step aside, the words kept coming. For all Springer knew, he was telling the guy about the time he lost his virginity. Or the stories his mom liked to torture him with, all about his potty training. Or …
Before he knew what had happened, Springer was out on the street, still babbling. That part of his brain that hadn't turned to mush was screaming at him, as angry as a brain could be.
He'd blown it. He'd been right there with Eric and hadn't said a single one of those things he'd needed to tell the man.
When he got back to his car and tossed the cover flat on the passenger side, too disgusted with himself to care about it, the words on back caught his eye. "See ya at the next Celebration."
Springer sat in the car and hugged himself. Maybe he wasn't such a fuck-up after all.
Haven't met Springer yet? I created him last winter, for the Second Annual Musical Hanukkah Celebration. (This link will take you to the genesis of the idea) Be sure to stop in for this year's fun. In the meantime, click on his name, or on ShapeShifter's, or Eric's and learn more about this fictional band who rules Springer's world.
Good thing dreaming was free. Since scrambling to put all that money together for the ShapeShifter Musical Hanukkah Celebration last December, Springer had been broke. His car insurance had come due, and since he had a job, Dad had made him cough up the cash for it.
"Son, you don't pay rent," Dad had pointed out.
Springer kept his mouth shut and handed over fifty bucks from his pay each week. That left him with just enough to fill his gas tank, although lately that hadn't been so easy, either. Springer had made his girl do some of the driving, but she hadn't been happy about it, and she let him know it.
Doing shit with her hadn't been happening much lately. Springer didn't want to think too much about that. He didn't want to think about much -- he just wanted to drop into Guitars by Gus and dream a little.
The shop was buzzing when he walked in. No one noticed him come through the door, which wasn't normal. Usually, you walked in and Gus himself or one of his kids was there to say hi. Today, no one.
That's because people were packed in. It was like someone was giving a clinic, one everyone else in town had known about, probably because they stopped in more often than once every few months.
Springer craned his neck, trying to see who was the cause of all the excitement.
No go.
He turned around and read the flyers taped to the front door, trying to read signs that weren't facing him. If there was anything there about a clinic today, he couldn't see it. Maybe it had been taken down.
Three people came in behind him, pushing Springer into the line to meet whoever it was. He tried eavesdropping on the conversations around him to find out who it was, but all he could hear was, "I brung this so he can sign it!"
As Springer got closer to the front of the line, one of Gus' sons shoved an oversize cardboard cover of the latest ShapeShifter album in his hands. "Here. You'll need this."
Springer stared at it in shock. No way. No fucking way. There was just no fucking way on this planet that he'd chanced into an in-store signing with someone from ShapeShifter. If only it was Eric… if only he could tell him what getting on stage with him at the Musical Hanukkah Celebration had meant. If only…
If only Springer's luck didn't suck. Seriously about that no fucking way bit. By the time he'd get up there, it'd turn out to be the other two. Or the drummer. Or Eric would get up and leave right before Springer could make eye contact with him or…
And then it was his turn, and it was Eric and …
Springer's mouth went dry. He tried swirling his tongue around in his mouth. Nothing.
Eric was looking at him. Hard. "I've seen you around somewhere…" the guitar god said.
Springer nodded and tried for words as he set the cover flat down on the table between them. "Musical…"
"Musical? Like South Pacific?"
Springer shook his head and held his hands up in Air Guitar position.
Eric nodded. "You won a jam with us at the Musical Hanukkah Celebration."
Springer nodded and just like that, the saliva returned to his mouth. So did the words. "That was so fucking cool to do. Man, if I could win it again next year, my life would be set, know that?"
Part of him stared in terror as his mouth kept flapping, spilling the worst case of the runs Springer'd had since the time he ate that bad bean burrito.
Eric was good about it, nodding and signing the cover flat Springer had set down, then flipping it over and writing something else.
Until he handed it back and made a motion with his head that Springer should step aside, the words kept coming. For all Springer knew, he was telling the guy about the time he lost his virginity. Or the stories his mom liked to torture him with, all about his potty training. Or …
Before he knew what had happened, Springer was out on the street, still babbling. That part of his brain that hadn't turned to mush was screaming at him, as angry as a brain could be.
He'd blown it. He'd been right there with Eric and hadn't said a single one of those things he'd needed to tell the man.
When he got back to his car and tossed the cover flat on the passenger side, too disgusted with himself to care about it, the words on back caught his eye. "See ya at the next Celebration."
Springer sat in the car and hugged himself. Maybe he wasn't such a fuck-up after all.
Haven't met Springer yet? I created him last winter, for the Second Annual Musical Hanukkah Celebration. (This link will take you to the genesis of the idea) Be sure to stop in for this year's fun. In the meantime, click on his name, or on ShapeShifter's, or Eric's and learn more about this fictional band who rules Springer's world.
Labels: creative writing, Eric, fiction, ShapeShifter, Springer, Sunday Scribblings
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
ShapeShifter unveiled!
I can't even begin to thank my friend Winter enough. She volunteered to take my rough idea of the ShapeShifter logo and was able to turn it into something amazing and incredible. Please stop by Winter's place and rave about what she's done for me. And if you have ideas of a special pressie as a way of saying thanks, I'm all ears.
One question before I spend the day staring in rapture at it (again): Do you think it'll help my chances of being listed here? I mean, is that site tailor-made for me, or WHAT? You know I aspire to be there.
Labels: ShapeShifter
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Fiction Outtake: Protection (just before Trevor's Song era)
I found this new prompt site, Velvet Verbosity, which challenges you to be inspired by a one-word prompt, but to make your inspiration fit into 100 words. No more, no less. This week's word: Protection.
Yeah. I thought the same thing.
"It's time," ShapeShifter's manager said. "You need to protect yourselves."
"Sounds like it's the girls who need to be protected from us."
"Either way. You're at the point in your career where you need to be careful. Paternity suits might be only nine months away."
No one smiled. Trevor didn't smirk. It wasn't funny. This was about contracts and rules and following them, three things Trevor particularly hated. This was about growing up, which was one of those things Trevor had vowed to never do.
"If we have to, we have to," Mitchell said. He wasn't happy about it, either.
To learn more about ShapeShifter, Trevor, and Mitchell, follow these links. You'll be taken to their bio pages, and from there, you can read more of their fictional hijinks.
Yeah. I thought the same thing.
"It's time," ShapeShifter's manager said. "You need to protect yourselves."
"Sounds like it's the girls who need to be protected from us."
"Either way. You're at the point in your career where you need to be careful. Paternity suits might be only nine months away."
No one smiled. Trevor didn't smirk. It wasn't funny. This was about contracts and rules and following them, three things Trevor particularly hated. This was about growing up, which was one of those things Trevor had vowed to never do.
"If we have to, we have to," Mitchell said. He wasn't happy about it, either.
To learn more about ShapeShifter, Trevor, and Mitchell, follow these links. You'll be taken to their bio pages, and from there, you can read more of their fictional hijinks.
Labels: fiction outtake, Mitchell, ShapeShifter, Trevor, Velvet Verbosity, Writer's Island
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Thursday Thirteen #Looking to Summer
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One more week of school in the West of Mars school district. My thoughts have turned to summer (even though it's so cold I'm wearing a warm-up jacket. Hello? May? Where are you?). Last year around this time, I took a look at what the band does while on tour. This year, they're taking a break from the extensive tour and appreciating the season. You can probably figure out who does what by now, but if not, it's still a good list. I'll be doing some of these, myself. 1. Playing or hanging at day-long music festivals. 2. Hanging in the hammock out back and playing guitar. 3. Sleeping late. 4. Back porches after sundown with a cold beer. And a cigarette. 5. Hanging at Daniel's pool. Yes, Mabel the Fifteenth tried to go swimming. Why do you ask? 6. Fighting over who gets to do the honors in front of the grill. 7. Going to Big Buck's and sitting outside on the patio, where it's cooler and there's always a breeze off the river. 8. Girls in scanty clothing. Or, better yet, bikinis. 9. Wearing nothing but cut-off shorts, yourself. 10. Laying in that hammock without a guitar and dreaming. 11. The steamy heat of a club, whether you're playing or hanging. 12. Blasting your own music out your car windows as you tool around town, feeling cooler than you probably are. 13. Val's lemonade. Nothing better on a hot day. |
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will try to link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
View More Thursday Thirteen Participants
Labels: meme, ShapeShifter, Thursday Thirteen
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Thursday Thirteen with Good Intentions
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What's the saying? The Road to Hell is paved with good intentions? 1. The time the video director pitched an idea that had the ShapeShifter boys dancing. DANCING. 2. The time Kerri went to pick up a package at the post office, only to find it had come $3.50 postage due because it had been wrapped wrong and she only had $2 on her. She refused the package, which had been one of those nice gestures on the part of someone else -- but not for $3.50. 3. The time the band found a key lime pie in their dressing room. It wasn't on their contracted tour rider; the promoter had thought it was a nice touch and got whiny when the band asked him to remove it. It didn't touch him nearly so nicely when Mitchell made him wear it. 4. The sound engineer in the recording studio who forgot to push PLAY. 5. From time to time, Kerri meets someone who expected Kerry Voss, male artist, and not Kerri Voss, female. 6. The time Eric was offered an endorsement deal for a new guitar -- but only if he'd never play his current ones again. 7. The new employee of the record label who had heard that Mitchell would be mean to her, so instead of asking him for lyrics for the new disc's booklet, she did her best to interpret what she heard. 8. The time Kerri was asked to create the art for an event whose cancellation no one told her about. 9. The time the band opened a box of new t-shirts, only to find that the silver ink was red, the shirt itself was orange, and the whole thing looked like bloody puke. 10. Let's not forget the newspaper reporter who tried to write a flattering article but confused ShapeShifter with … well, they're still trying to figure that one out. But according to this person, who may or may not have ever heard the band, ShapeShifter is Satanic. Glad someone forgot to inform the band of that… 11. A local crew member, coming up to Trevor from behind, thought he was a woman. In that person's defense, his hair was waist-length at the time and, from the back, he could be confused with a woman hippie… who wears biker boots and a chain connecting the wallet in his back pocket to a belt loop. And… well, you get the idea. 12. Someone filling in for Mitchell's tech once strung Mabel upside-down. It may have been a joke, but the joke was on him when Mitchell broke Mabel over the guy's back. 13. Often, at a backstage appearance, a guy will pull a CD (in the old days, a cassette tape -- remember those?) out of a pocket and ask Daniel to listen to his demo. Daniel's always willing -- but once, the guy had given him a ShapeShifter disc, and no contact information so Daniel could make the swap. Hey, groupies! Other than #2, which just happened to me in real life today, would you like to see any of these turned into outtakes? Given time and interest, I just might do it for you. 'cause I love you guys and all. |
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will try to link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
View More Thursday Thirteen Participants
Labels: creative writing, Daniel, Eric, Kerri, meme, Mitchell, ShapeShifter, Thursday Thirteen, Trevor
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
Thursday Thirteen #something -- I Don't Wanna
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When I noticed that this week's official Thursday Thirteen theme was gross, Trevor got all excited. Trevor Wolff isn't a man who begs, but he was all but prostrate on the floor in front of me, eager for his chance to sound off about how gross monogamy, marriage, and Mitchell's wife Kerri all are. (Yes, he was well on his way to making another letter-themed list like last week's). Problem is, no one really wanted to listen to Trevor on that particular subject. Trust me; you didn't, either. Since Trevor is off ranting about monogamy, marriage, and Mitchell's wife Kerri, the rest of us got together and came up with a list of things we say when it looks like practice won't be happening. 1. Mitchell's mountain bike is calling. Daniel's pool is calling. 2. The band has blisters. On their fingers, on their shoulders from their guitar straps, on Daniel's hiney (no, that's NOT the word he used) from too many hours on that drummer's throne. 3. Communing with nature is the best sort of prayer, and Eric needs the best sort of prayer. No one's sure why; when they ask, he just smiles and says it's between him and God. 4. Trevor's got a girl waiting. Trevor needs to go find a girl. Trevor needs to find girls for Mitchell, Eric, and Daniel. Trevor has girls waiting for them all. You get the idea. Trevor + girls = no practice today. 5. Hangovers. 'Nuff said. 6. The Hatchet needs to be sharpened. This only works for the guys in Deadly Metal Hatchet, obviously. Please don't try it at home. Men with funny white coats might show up on your doorstep. Or worse. 7. Someone is hungry and Val is cooking. Therefore, practice will end as soon as whatever Val's making comes out of the oven. Maybe the guys need to go watch and make sure it doesn't burn... 8. Mitchell's out of new guitar strings. Eric's out of new guitar strings. Trevor hasn't bought new strings for his bass ... well, ever. So it's Mitchell's fault that he has no new strings. Even though the guys have techs who work year-round for them and who keep the axes well-strung. (strung I said! STRung!) 9. With the techs around, there are too many people in the practice space. The techs have work to do. The band can't do it until they're done. Good thing the techs aren't in any hurry. 10. The guys in Deadly Metal Hatchet often wonder why they bother to practice. They'll never be as good as ShapeShifter. 11. The guys in ShapeShifter often wonder why they bother to practice. Their fans only want to hear the same old songs. 12. It's too nice out to spend inside practicing. It's too rainy; the humidity affects the instruments. It's too cloudy to think straight. Let's wait for a snow day. There might be one in the next ten years. 13. Fans? People want us to sound good?? |
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will try to link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
View More Thursday Thirteen Participants
Labels: ShapeShifter, Thursday Thirteen
Friday, April 11, 2008
Fiction Outtake: Turbulence (The Trevor's Song Era)
It was the bumps that woke Mitchell. That really sucked; he was exhausted, they were headed home, and he just couldn't keep his eyes open anymore. Except he couldn't sleep while being tossed around like this. He was stuck in this awful state, unable to do a fucking thing.
Across the aisle, Trevor had made a pillow of his denim jacket. He still slept, but then again, when Trevor wasn't acting weird lately, he was sleeping. Having him sleep went over better than trying to deal with his latest round of weird shit. If someone had to sleep, no one minded that it was Trevor doing it.
Daniel gave Mitchell a thin-lipped sort-of smile. "I was wondering when it'd get to you."
"How long's it been going on?"
"Too damn long," he said and shifted in his seat, like his legs were stiff. Mitchell doubted that was the problem; the guy probably wanted off the stupid plane. "The pilot's been on a few times. He's been trying all sorts of different altitudes, but none of them are any good. He made a few noises about turning around, but I guess they wouldn't let him."
Mitchell didn't know how to respond to that. Flying wasn't his thing. At most, it was the way to get from the US to Europe, or maybe from Riverview to New York or wherever the tour was starting. Anything more than that and he was lost.
"I just hope we get there soon," Eric said from Mitchell's other side. He'd pulled down the shade over the little window, which Mitchell didn't understand. Why ask for the window seat if you weren't going to look through the window? At least the views were cool. When you could see more than a cloud, anyway.
"Can you see anything out there?" Mitchell asked.
Just as Eric got his hand on the window shade, the plane bucked.
Eric's hand moved from the shade to the arms of his seat so fast, it was a blur. He grabbed hold -- even though Mitchell already had a good grip on the one they shared -- and turned pale. "Not really, no," he said softly.
Trevor didn't stir.
The plane calmed. Daniel gave Mitchell a weak smile. "Are we there yet?"
"Fuck, I hope so."
How perfect was this? I wrote this last weekend for the Flash Fiction Carnival, but it applies to the Writer's Island and Sunday Scribblings prompts this week, too. Really. Amazing. Smell those changing winds... Ahhh....
If you're new around here, clicking on the links in the fiction will take you back to that person's bio page. From there, you can access a bunch of other fictional posts about that particular character.
And while you're there, check out the free download!
Across the aisle, Trevor had made a pillow of his denim jacket. He still slept, but then again, when Trevor wasn't acting weird lately, he was sleeping. Having him sleep went over better than trying to deal with his latest round of weird shit. If someone had to sleep, no one minded that it was Trevor doing it.
Daniel gave Mitchell a thin-lipped sort-of smile. "I was wondering when it'd get to you."
"How long's it been going on?"
"Too damn long," he said and shifted in his seat, like his legs were stiff. Mitchell doubted that was the problem; the guy probably wanted off the stupid plane. "The pilot's been on a few times. He's been trying all sorts of different altitudes, but none of them are any good. He made a few noises about turning around, but I guess they wouldn't let him."
Mitchell didn't know how to respond to that. Flying wasn't his thing. At most, it was the way to get from the US to Europe, or maybe from Riverview to New York or wherever the tour was starting. Anything more than that and he was lost.
"I just hope we get there soon," Eric said from Mitchell's other side. He'd pulled down the shade over the little window, which Mitchell didn't understand. Why ask for the window seat if you weren't going to look through the window? At least the views were cool. When you could see more than a cloud, anyway.
"Can you see anything out there?" Mitchell asked.
Just as Eric got his hand on the window shade, the plane bucked.
Eric's hand moved from the shade to the arms of his seat so fast, it was a blur. He grabbed hold -- even though Mitchell already had a good grip on the one they shared -- and turned pale. "Not really, no," he said softly.
Trevor didn't stir.
The plane calmed. Daniel gave Mitchell a weak smile. "Are we there yet?"
"Fuck, I hope so."
How perfect was this? I wrote this last weekend for the Flash Fiction Carnival, but it applies to the Writer's Island and Sunday Scribblings prompts this week, too. Really. Amazing. Smell those changing winds... Ahhh....
If you're new around here, clicking on the links in the fiction will take you back to that person's bio page. From there, you can access a bunch of other fictional posts about that particular character.
And while you're there, check out the free download!
Labels: creative writing, Daniel, Eric, fiction, fiction outtake, Mitchell, ShapeShifter, Sunday Scribblings, touring, Trevor, Writer's Island
Friday, March 21, 2008
Fiction Outtake: Easter Eggs (Trevor's Song era)
"I just don't get it," Eric said. "I've done this for years. Why's it a problem now?"
"Because we're ShapeShifter," Mitchell said with a small shrug, like it was no big deal. But it was.
"We were ShapeShifter before yesterday! What changed?"
Now Mitchell sighed. "The number of records we've sold, the number of people who come to see us every night, the security staff, the type of hotel we stay in… do I really need to keep going?"
"It's called success, wanker," Trevor said, leaning around Mitchell so Eric could see his face.
Eric was privately glad when Mitchell gave the bass player a shove back into place. He understood it, and Mitchell knew that. Lord knew, they'd had these talks often enough. They were starting to be routine -- until the reason for today's talk. There was nothing routine about this, about what had happened.
Worst of all, their manager said if they didn't start being more careful, there would be more of them. They were lucky this was the first time.
He shook his head again. "I just don't get it."
Trevor sighed loudly. "What you don't get," he said, standing up so he could pose and vogue, "is why the band's in trouble over something you did. You're the good one, the one who never creates waves. So now that some chick's pissed that you threw candy into the crowd when she was busy begging her boyfriend to suck her face or something so she wasn't watching you and took one of your stupid candied eggs to the face and now she's making noise about suing us, you're pretending it doesn't make sense. What doesn't make sense is why no one's bothered to see how bad the girl's hurt--"
"JR told us not to try to contact her," Daniel said quickly. "Because she's got her lawyer involved."
"We still ought to know," Trevor insisted. "Did a corner of the wrapper put her eye out? Does she have a bruise she could have gotten when some crowd surfer dropped his foot? Did the stupid chocolate egg make her swallow her own tooth?"
"I don't throw that hard!"
"Maybe you should have," Trevor spit at him.
Mitchell growled. Trevor sat down.
Eric tried to understand what that had been about. It made about as much sense as this girl, who was having a tantrum about being hit in the eye by one of the chocolate Easter eggs he'd thrown into the crowd. He'd been throwing Easter candy for years. He'd done interviews about it. Every single ShapeShifter fan out there knew that for a few shows before Easter, Eric threw chocolate eggs. That was just one of the things ShapeShifter did.
And now this girl, who had been there only to make her boyfriend happy, was having a hissy fit. Trevor was right: she hadn't been watching the band.
"Hey," he said suddenly, "what about that bit about 'Enter at your own risk' that's on the back of every ticket? Is that still there?"
He was met by three dumb looks.
"I'll call JR and ask," Mitchell said after a painfully long minute of silence. "You might be onto something."
"A ticket," Daniel said. "Shit, I'd forgotten all about those things, it's been so long since we've needed them."
"That's because we're ShapeShifter," Trevor said. He tapped a cigarette on its box. "I told you idiots I'd make this band big."
"Yep," Mitchell said, standing up and heading for the hotel phone. "It's all because of you, Trev."
"I hope this doesn't mean the end of my eggs," Eric said.
"It does," Mitchell said. He paused and put the phone down. "Look, it sucks, but is it such a shitty thing to have to give up? Think about it, Eric. Can you give up the eggs if we're getting all this other stuff in return?"
This conversation, too, was starting to have hints of déjà vu to it. They were having to give up going in the front doors of hotels, of being able to move around without a bodyguard shadowing them. Every time someone complained, that was the answer: all this other stuff in return. Our dreams, they're coming true. It's worth it.
They were only chocolate eggs. But that didn't mean he was ready to give them up.
Have you seen the free download yet?
"Because we're ShapeShifter," Mitchell said with a small shrug, like it was no big deal. But it was.
"We were ShapeShifter before yesterday! What changed?"
Now Mitchell sighed. "The number of records we've sold, the number of people who come to see us every night, the security staff, the type of hotel we stay in… do I really need to keep going?"
"It's called success, wanker," Trevor said, leaning around Mitchell so Eric could see his face.
Eric was privately glad when Mitchell gave the bass player a shove back into place. He understood it, and Mitchell knew that. Lord knew, they'd had these talks often enough. They were starting to be routine -- until the reason for today's talk. There was nothing routine about this, about what had happened.
Worst of all, their manager said if they didn't start being more careful, there would be more of them. They were lucky this was the first time.
He shook his head again. "I just don't get it."
Trevor sighed loudly. "What you don't get," he said, standing up so he could pose and vogue, "is why the band's in trouble over something you did. You're the good one, the one who never creates waves. So now that some chick's pissed that you threw candy into the crowd when she was busy begging her boyfriend to suck her face or something so she wasn't watching you and took one of your stupid candied eggs to the face and now she's making noise about suing us, you're pretending it doesn't make sense. What doesn't make sense is why no one's bothered to see how bad the girl's hurt--"
"JR told us not to try to contact her," Daniel said quickly. "Because she's got her lawyer involved."
"We still ought to know," Trevor insisted. "Did a corner of the wrapper put her eye out? Does she have a bruise she could have gotten when some crowd surfer dropped his foot? Did the stupid chocolate egg make her swallow her own tooth?"
"I don't throw that hard!"
"Maybe you should have," Trevor spit at him.
Mitchell growled. Trevor sat down.
Eric tried to understand what that had been about. It made about as much sense as this girl, who was having a tantrum about being hit in the eye by one of the chocolate Easter eggs he'd thrown into the crowd. He'd been throwing Easter candy for years. He'd done interviews about it. Every single ShapeShifter fan out there knew that for a few shows before Easter, Eric threw chocolate eggs. That was just one of the things ShapeShifter did.
And now this girl, who had been there only to make her boyfriend happy, was having a hissy fit. Trevor was right: she hadn't been watching the band.
"Hey," he said suddenly, "what about that bit about 'Enter at your own risk' that's on the back of every ticket? Is that still there?"
He was met by three dumb looks.
"I'll call JR and ask," Mitchell said after a painfully long minute of silence. "You might be onto something."
"A ticket," Daniel said. "Shit, I'd forgotten all about those things, it's been so long since we've needed them."
"That's because we're ShapeShifter," Trevor said. He tapped a cigarette on its box. "I told you idiots I'd make this band big."
"Yep," Mitchell said, standing up and heading for the hotel phone. "It's all because of you, Trev."
"I hope this doesn't mean the end of my eggs," Eric said.
"It does," Mitchell said. He paused and put the phone down. "Look, it sucks, but is it such a shitty thing to have to give up? Think about it, Eric. Can you give up the eggs if we're getting all this other stuff in return?"
This conversation, too, was starting to have hints of déjà vu to it. They were having to give up going in the front doors of hotels, of being able to move around without a bodyguard shadowing them. Every time someone complained, that was the answer: all this other stuff in return. Our dreams, they're coming true. It's worth it.
They were only chocolate eggs. But that didn't mean he was ready to give them up.
Have you seen the free download yet?
Labels: creative writing, Daniel, Eric, fiction, Mitchell, outtake, ShapeShifter, touring, Trevor
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Fiction Outtake: Time Travel? (The Trevor's Song Era)
The movie ended. The band and Kerri sat, unmoving, staring at the tiny screen as the credits rolled into black.
"Wow," Daniel said at last.
"No shit." Mitchell dropped the handful of Kerri's hair he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "That was … some intense shit."
"So," Eric said from his spot down by Mitchell and Kerri's feet, "if you could travel through time, where would you go?" He stood up and fiddled with the TV suspended over Trevor.
"I'd go be the famous Daniel. Daniel in the Lion's Den."
Mitchell tipped his head backwards, trying to see the drummer. The only thing in view was the roof of the bus. "Didn't he die or something?"
"Eventually, yeah, but who cares? The story's immortal," Daniel said before Eric could jump in and correct things. Or, worse, preach.
"So's ShapeShifter."
Eric cocked his head like he had to consider that. "But Daniel's story was worthy of immortality because he was pious. Why are we worthy of immortality?"
"Because we're ShapeShifter," Mitchell said. Like they needed to ask?
"Time travel, M," Kerri said. "Where would you go?"
He didn't need to think about it. "I'd go work with Les Paul in the early days. I'd be a guitar master."
"Some say you already are," she said.
"Yeah, but I'd be more of one. I'd be more than just a player."
She looked at him and rolled her eyes.
"Me, I'd go back and meet Jesus," Eric said.
Mitchell hoped no one would ask the guitarist to elaborate. Every now and then, the guy went on these religious tears; clearly, the movie had awoken a new one in him. He'd have to make sure their copy of the flick disappeared somewhere. Maybe some fan would want it.
"What about you, Rusty?" the supposedly-sleeping Trevor asked. "Want to go back and be the hot, passionate woman who made Van Gogh cut his ear off? Want to inspire someone to do something even dumber?"
"Do you have any idea," Kerri started, vibrating with a sudden passion that Mitchell hadn't expected, "how women artists were treated back then? If -- and that's a huge if -- they were allowed to paint, they were outcasts. Usually, they were told to forget about any ambitions they had for themselves. Go be a wife, they were told. Have babies. Run a house. Be invisible."
Mitchell grabbed at her as she stood. He wasn't sure which was worse, a religious sermon from Eric or a rant from his wife.
"So what the fuck do you think I'd gain from going back in time?" Kerri shrugged off Mitchell's hands and stepped away, closer to Trevor. Who still hadn't opened his eyes or moved. "Do you really think I'm dumb enough to think that this isn't the best time in world history to be a woman? Do you really think I'd trade in everything I've got for that?"
"For a day?" Eric said. "Just one day, Kerri, and then you could come back."
"I'm not going to work with Les Paul for just one day!"
"Mitchell, please. And no, Eric, I wouldn't, and don't start in on that bit about how I'll better appreciate the here and now. I appreciate it plenty, believe me."
"Funny," Trevor said. "I thought you only appreciated Mitchell."
Kerri left the front lounge at about the same instant that Mitchell lunged for Trevor. There'd be no sleeping for the bass player for awhile yet. Which was, of course, why Trevor had put on the whole sleep show in the first place.
But it didn't change the outcome.
How many prompts can one piece of fiction cover? We've got Sunday Scribblings, Writer's Island and, of course, Rhian's Poetry Train. No Weekend Wordsmith this week; the prompt wasn't for me.
"Wow," Daniel said at last.
"No shit." Mitchell dropped the handful of Kerri's hair he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "That was … some intense shit."
"So," Eric said from his spot down by Mitchell and Kerri's feet, "if you could travel through time, where would you go?" He stood up and fiddled with the TV suspended over Trevor.
"I'd go be the famous Daniel. Daniel in the Lion's Den."
Mitchell tipped his head backwards, trying to see the drummer. The only thing in view was the roof of the bus. "Didn't he die or something?"
"Eventually, yeah, but who cares? The story's immortal," Daniel said before Eric could jump in and correct things. Or, worse, preach.
"So's ShapeShifter."
Eric cocked his head like he had to consider that. "But Daniel's story was worthy of immortality because he was pious. Why are we worthy of immortality?"
"Because we're ShapeShifter," Mitchell said. Like they needed to ask?
"Time travel, M," Kerri said. "Where would you go?"
He didn't need to think about it. "I'd go work with Les Paul in the early days. I'd be a guitar master."
"Some say you already are," she said.
"Yeah, but I'd be more of one. I'd be more than just a player."
She looked at him and rolled her eyes.
"Me, I'd go back and meet Jesus," Eric said.
Mitchell hoped no one would ask the guitarist to elaborate. Every now and then, the guy went on these religious tears; clearly, the movie had awoken a new one in him. He'd have to make sure their copy of the flick disappeared somewhere. Maybe some fan would want it.
"What about you, Rusty?" the supposedly-sleeping Trevor asked. "Want to go back and be the hot, passionate woman who made Van Gogh cut his ear off? Want to inspire someone to do something even dumber?"
"Do you have any idea," Kerri started, vibrating with a sudden passion that Mitchell hadn't expected, "how women artists were treated back then? If -- and that's a huge if -- they were allowed to paint, they were outcasts. Usually, they were told to forget about any ambitions they had for themselves. Go be a wife, they were told. Have babies. Run a house. Be invisible."
Mitchell grabbed at her as she stood. He wasn't sure which was worse, a religious sermon from Eric or a rant from his wife.
"So what the fuck do you think I'd gain from going back in time?" Kerri shrugged off Mitchell's hands and stepped away, closer to Trevor. Who still hadn't opened his eyes or moved. "Do you really think I'm dumb enough to think that this isn't the best time in world history to be a woman? Do you really think I'd trade in everything I've got for that?"
"For a day?" Eric said. "Just one day, Kerri, and then you could come back."
"I'm not going to work with Les Paul for just one day!"
"Mitchell, please. And no, Eric, I wouldn't, and don't start in on that bit about how I'll better appreciate the here and now. I appreciate it plenty, believe me."
"Funny," Trevor said. "I thought you only appreciated Mitchell."
Kerri left the front lounge at about the same instant that Mitchell lunged for Trevor. There'd be no sleeping for the bass player for awhile yet. Which was, of course, why Trevor had put on the whole sleep show in the first place.
But it didn't change the outcome.
How many prompts can one piece of fiction cover? We've got Sunday Scribblings, Writer's Island and, of course, Rhian's Poetry Train. No Weekend Wordsmith this week; the prompt wasn't for me.
Labels: creative writing, Daniel, Eric, fiction, Kerri, Mitchell, outtake, Poetry Train, ShapeShifter, touring, Trevor
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Thursday Thirteen #66 -- Love Songs
In honor of Valentine's Day, I bring you...
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The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will try to link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
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C'mon. Every good band out there writes love songs in one form or another. Some artists make their entire career about love songs. And then there's ShapeShifter. It's probably a good thing they're fictional, because, in honor of Valentine's Day, here are thirteen reasons why they don't do that lovey-dovey thing with their music. 1. Love songs make Trevor gag. While that's usually fun to watch, it's not so fun during a show. The guy needs to concentrate, not gag. 2. Love songs make Mitchell all swoony. Which makes Trevor gag. (see #1) 3. Love songs make Daniel get all sappy and start talking about the little things about Val that he loves so much. This doesn't just make Trevor gag; it gives him the dry heaves. IF you're lucky enough to catch him between meals. 4. Love songs are best when they are slow. There's nothing slow about ShapeShifter's music. Except for love from the critics. That is very slow, indeed. 5. During a show, all those lighters held aloft blind Eric. 6. Trevor gets jealous when he looks out into the audience and sees couples making out. Those girls should be his, dammit! And the guys? They should be basking in the glory that is ShapeShifter. 7. While love songs bring about the girls, they tend to bring about the girls who whine about the lack of pink ShapeShifter t-shirts. 8. ShapeShifter's all about saying Fuck You to the world. When you bring love songs into the mix, that takes on a whole new meaning. Not a bad one, but it loses some of its rebellion. 9. Having love songs in your catalog means you can't conveniently forget about Valentine's Day. 10. Guys who sing or write love songs are perceived as being tender. The only person Mitchell wants to come across as tender to is Kerri. Nope, not even his mom gets to see that side of him. 11. Ever notice how you think someone can sing until they sing a love song? Well, Mitchell doesn't want them to feel bad. (So much for hiding that tender side, eh?) 12. Trevor believes love is for the birds and if the band were to do a love song, he'd be a hypocrite. Trevor Wolff is not a hypocrite. 13. We love ShapeShifter as they are, all prickly and speedy and thrashy. We don't want them to change; we want them to improve. |
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will try to link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
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Labels: Daniel, Eric, meme, Mitchell, ShapeShifter, Thursday Thirteen, Trevor
Sunday, February 03, 2008
Byline: Chelle LaFleur -- ShapeShifter fans
Now, you may not have heard this here first, but you're hearing the truth here first. That counts for a lot in Chelle's book.
I just got off the phone with my favorite rocker, Mitchell Voss, and this is what he had to say:
For some reason, we couldn't take the bus from the hotel to the arena, so the promoter sent a limo for us. It should have been a twenty-minute drive. An hour later, our tour manager gets out of the limo and walks up the side of the road to see what's going on.
Turns out, a car broke down. They can't even move it off to the shoulder, it's the middle of rush hour. Traffic's a disaster. Our tour manager comes back to the limo and says the car's driven by three girls on their way to … you guessed it. Our show.
Trevor, Daniel, and Eric aren't stupid. They're also lonely. Or, they were.
That's right, girls and boys. Those ShapeShifter boys smelled opportunity and they didn't let anything stop them. Those girls with that broken-down car got the star treatment on their way to the show. They got to watch the show from the special VIP section with Mitchel's wife, the most amazing Kerri Voss, and they got to be the after-show party, as well.
Chelle here knows how many of us dream of this happenin' to us, even you guys out there. Like any good music reporter, I tried to find those girls and get their take on the night, but that handsome Voss man wasn't coughing up any names.
So girls, if you're out there and reading this, drop me a line, will ya? You just went and lived yourselves a dream and the rest of us, we want to know all about it.
You heard it first, and you heard it here. ShapeShifter loves their fans.
I just got off the phone with my favorite rocker, Mitchell Voss, and this is what he had to say:
For some reason, we couldn't take the bus from the hotel to the arena, so the promoter sent a limo for us. It should have been a twenty-minute drive. An hour later, our tour manager gets out of the limo and walks up the side of the road to see what's going on.
Turns out, a car broke down. They can't even move it off to the shoulder, it's the middle of rush hour. Traffic's a disaster. Our tour manager comes back to the limo and says the car's driven by three girls on their way to … you guessed it. Our show.
Trevor, Daniel, and Eric aren't stupid. They're also lonely. Or, they were.
That's right, girls and boys. Those ShapeShifter boys smelled opportunity and they didn't let anything stop them. Those girls with that broken-down car got the star treatment on their way to the show. They got to watch the show from the special VIP section with Mitchel's wife, the most amazing Kerri Voss, and they got to be the after-show party, as well.
Chelle here knows how many of us dream of this happenin' to us, even you guys out there. Like any good music reporter, I tried to find those girls and get their take on the night, but that handsome Voss man wasn't coughing up any names.
So girls, if you're out there and reading this, drop me a line, will ya? You just went and lived yourselves a dream and the rest of us, we want to know all about it.
You heard it first, and you heard it here. ShapeShifter loves their fans.
Labels: Chelle LaFleur, fiction, Mitchell, Poetry Train, ShapeShifter, touring
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Thursday Thirteen #59 -- Wired!
Guitar strings are slippery things. They come coiled up in a packet, sort of like a condom, only they don't like to be stretched out. You have to put one end into your guitar and pull it taut. It bends, it struggles, it sings. But it doesn't like to be manhandled.
Enter Mitchell Voss, frontman for ShapeShifter and rhythm guitarist extraordinaire (in the minds of many). He'd never thought much about a used guitar string until he went and fell in love with an artist. Kerri is magic, he swears it, and that was before she went and started making art with his broken guitar strings. Thirteen different things, in fact.
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The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will try to link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
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Enter Mitchell Voss, frontman for ShapeShifter and rhythm guitarist extraordinaire (in the minds of many). He'd never thought much about a used guitar string until he went and fell in love with an artist. Kerri is magic, he swears it, and that was before she went and started making art with his broken guitar strings. Thirteen different things, in fact.
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1. First, she wound some of Mitchell's hair around a piece of string. "Look!" she cried, inordinately pleased with herself. "Instant dredlocks!" (he tried to keep from blushing, lest someone discover he'd tried this, himself, once.) 2. Then she took a number of strings, divided them into groups of three, and braided them around a strap of leather, which she turned into a very sexy choker for Mitchell. He wore it. 3. This fueled her ambitions, and she soon figured out a way to make the wire stay when bent. She made a charm for the choker. When Mitchell wore it to a photo shoot, girls everywhere coveted it. 4. Kerri's next masterpiece was a blob that she designated as a Christmas tree ornament. Since Mitchell is usually on the road this time of year (preferably in Australia, where it's summer), Kerri gave it to his mom, Sonya, who treasures it. 5. One day, Kerri noticed Eric using a book thong to mark his place in a book he was reading. He admitted it was a gift from one of the many girls he befriended on the road and then kept in touch with. Kerri found some beads and some of Eric's used strings and voila. Eric had a return gift for that girl. 6. Bored one day on the bus, Kerri pulled out her stash of broken strings -- by this point, she was collecting Eric's as well, although Trevor's were too thick -- and made what she dubbed an abstract sculpture. It got left behind in a dressing room, or was perhaps stolen by a fan. At any rate, it's gone. 7. One day in October, Kerri figured out how to make the wire form right angles -- and stay that way. She got a small piece of wood from one of the roadies and snuck out shopping one day while Mitchell was giving interviews. She came back with a rubber rat that was supposed to be a Halloween decoration. She tucked it under the piece of wire, on top of the wood and, voila. Rat trap. The guys liked it so much, they took to putting it on the catering table in their dressing room. Watching girls encounter the rat right beside their food is a never-ending source of amusement. 8. By now, Kerri had a pretty good idea of things she could get the wires to do. So she fashioned a tiara for herself. It came out great. Problem was, Trevor stole it and wore it onstage a few times -- and then gave it to a girl in the front row. 9. She tried making an earring out of the wire, but that was one of her few failures. 10. Thinking it would make the bus homier, she took the demo CDs and cassettes handed to the band by fans eager to have their band discovered, and hung them in the back lounge. Mitchell ripped them down and threw them in the garbage, not sparing the guitar strings Kerri had used as hangers. 11. It took a coffee mug to get the shape right, but Kerri wove the strings into what most people called a Dream Catcher, but what she called a Heavy Metal Nightmare Preventer. Eric stole it and hung it in his bunk. He claimed it worked. 12. Kerri bought a book about how to make chain mail, but gave up that idea as too time-consuming. That didn't stop Daniel from trying it -- and giving up, saying that the wire was just too hard to make behave. Kerri winked and said she knew. 13. At last, fed up with Kerri's collection and the things she spent her days creating, Mitchell stole the unused strings and gave them to fans. While it was widely agreed that they made the best souvenirs, everyone missed Kerri's creations. She largely stuck to pencils and paper after that. It was, after all, her preferred medium. |
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will try to link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
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Labels: Daniel, Eric, Kerri, meme, Mitchell, ShapeShifter, Thursday Thirteen, Trevor
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Thursday Thirteen #57 -- Musical Hanukkah Celebration 2007
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1. Our favorite boys in ShapeShifter conceived this idea last year to honor "the religion that was around before Christianity… and [to] celebrate our music scene at the same time," as ShapeShifter guitarist Eric Wallace said in an interview with Chelle LaFleur. (you can read the whole thing here.) 2. Here are the basics: it's held on the Monday during Hanukkah, because Monday is traditionally the slowest night in the entertainment business (yes, that explains why restaurants close on Mondays!). Everything from the food to the stage hands to the club itself is donated to the cause. 3. Tickets last year were $10. You could also chip in another $50 and jam onstage with ShapeShifter. Only fifty people were allowed to do that, but 300 tickets were sold. 4. Because it's a fund-raiser and because of the success, the boys jacked the prices this year. Now, it's $15 to get in and $75 to jam with the band. Still a bargain considering what a ticket to a ShapeShifter concert costs. 5. If you were here on Monday for the Poetry Train, you are still waiting to find out if our new friend, Springer, raises the money he needs to attend this year. Stay tuned; we're not done with his story yet. Read the first part of it here. 6. Notice how he's forgotten to factor in the price of a limited-edition, commemorative t-shirt? 7. I'm still trying to figure out the logistics of having 50 people jam onstage with a rock band. One thing that helps is that this turns into a full two-hour-long ShapeShifter show. I think that means five people on stage for ten songs, and then the band finishes up on their own. Or with surprise friends. 8. Last year, the concert was as fictional as ShapeShifter but the charity that the donations went to wasn't. Music Lives seems to have ... not lived. Thus, the ShapeShifter boys will keep their raised funds closer to home and make sure that the kids of Riverview and the surrounding area have great exposure to music in their schools. 9. Wouldn't it be great to have real-life t-shirts from this? I think so, too. As soon as that awesome graphic chick comes up with a logo for ShapeShifter, I'll see what I can do. 10. It ought to go without saying that any net profits from this dream shirt that may or may not happen will go to a charity that supports music in the schools. 11. Last year, Eric had said he and his father were going to work to get more people involved with the event, particularly people within the religious community. This year, a (still fictional!) Chinese auction will be happening at the show, too. At least one of the prizes is tickets to a VIP box at a Riverview Otters game. (that's the city's baseball team) 12. Last year, the band managed to talk the club's chef into making potato pancakes for 300 people. This year, the latkes are being catered. 13. Once again this year, ShapeShifter will match all monies raised from the tickets and the opportunity to jam onstage with the band. They want to see the take before committing to matching the t-shirt sales and the money raised from the Chinese Auction, but they probably will. After all, it's all for a good cause. Links to other Thursday Thirteens! 1. (leave your link in comments, I’ll try to add you here!) |
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will try to link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
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Big thanks to Headmeister for this week's cool header!
Labels: charity, Musical Hanukkah Celebration, Riverview USA, ShapeShifter, Thursday Thirteen
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Thursday Thirteen #55 -- Thanks for the Disaster!
Let's face it. Part of what makes Thanksgiving so much fun is seeing what sort of memories you'll leave the table with. Our friends in Riverview (and music reporter Chelle LaFleur) have had some memorable meals.
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The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
View More Thursday Thirteen Participants
If you're not sure who Mitchell is, be sure to follow the link in the first mention of his name. That'll take you to his bio page, and from there, you'll see a list of outtakes and Thirteens about him.
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1. There was the year when Mitchell and Trevor were 20 and they stumbled in to dinner, late, Trevor stoned and Mitchell drunk and stoned, and decided that turkey flambe was the main course. Sonya, who was about to put the cooked bird on the table when this happened, wasn't amused. 2. The first year that Chelle was living alone, she decided that the best way to celebrate her independence was to make Thanksgiving herself. Not sure how to cook, let alone roast a turkey, she microwaved it. For an hour. What she was left with resembled the shrunken heads she'd seen her elderly relatives use for voodoo ceremonies. Those creepy elderly relatives were all too glad to see her when she showed up for dinner. 3. One year, Pam accepted the invitation of some vegetarian friends for a Tofurkey dinner. She made sure they served fish the next time she ate with them. 4. Inspired by Mitchell and Trevor's lame attempt at flame, Val decided to try it herself. The apricot brandy glaze was a success. The flambe wasn't. The bananas foster that was an alternative to the pumpkin pie was. 5. When he was a teenager, Eric and his brothers had a pumpkin pie eating contest. Problem was, their mother had baked the pies for a church dinner. They learned fast how to bake a good pumpkin pie. 6. Amy called it a disaster the year Mitchell was allowed to carve the bird for the first time. Until he did, Amy had visions of herself becoming a surgeon. After Mitchell sliced that baby perfectly, she knew surgery wasn't going to be her thing. 7. Eric's family is still traumatized from the year the TV broke and the football game was tied, with two minutes left and the home team set to score. The ball was intercepted, the visitors won the game -- and Eric's family missed it. 8. The year Patterson was called away from the table for work. He didn't come home until after the kids were in bed. 9. The year Eric's dad decided to invite the entire congregation to a Turkey Bowl -- and broke his leg on the first play. The Turkey Bowl turned into an annual event for about ten years. The broken leg became legend. 10. The year Hank came home in time for dinner, upended the entire contents of dinner into Jenny's lap, and turned Trevor into a punching bag. Yeah. That'd be a disaster. Trevor couldn't eat solid food for a few days after that one. This is not the only time Trevor had loose teeth around Thanksgiving, poor guy. (here is the reference to the other time) 11. The second year Chelle tried to cook. Instead of making voodoo turkey breasts, she set the oven on fire. Thankfully, she was quick-witted enough to put it out before it spread and destroyed her apartment -- or worse. This was the last time Chelle tried to cook. Anything. 12. Then there was the year the band was on the road. This was before the days of nice hotels. No one was terribly surprised when they came down with food poisoning. 13. Lastly was a disaster only in Val's eyes. She made a wonderful feast for the band. And I do mean feast. They ate it all, somehow -- and ruined her night by having another of their burping fests at the table. The boys, of course, thought it was the best Thanksgiving ever. |
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
View More Thursday Thirteen Participants
If you're not sure who Mitchell is, be sure to follow the link in the first mention of his name. That'll take you to his bio page, and from there, you'll see a list of outtakes and Thirteens about him.
Labels: Chelle LaFleur, Eric, meme, Mitchell, Pam, ShapeShifter, Thanksgiving, Thursday Thirteen, Trevor, Val
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Thursday Thirteen #52 -- Thoughts about Fire
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The fires in Southern California have been on my mind quite a bit lately. I've got family out there, friends, and people with whom I've fallen out of touch -- but not out of thoughts. Kermit Ladd wanted to talk to the boys about something serious for a change. He posed this question to the band: If these fires were to ravage Riverview, what would you risk your life to save? 1. Mitchell: My guitars. I've got a few that're worth tons. I couldn't leave without them. Kerri: Not that you can be without a guitar in your hand for more than twenty minutes before you get twitchy. Mitchell smiles guiltily. 2. Trevor: I'd want my bass with the cracked neck, the one M taught me how to play on. And my bike. I rebuilt that fucker from the ground up. I'm taking it to the fucking grave with me. Kerri: It'll be a big chunk of land, Trev. You and a motorcycle. Trevor: Good. Plant some trees. If they burn, plant more. Eric: Part of the reason so many homes are burning is because people are planting too much in a desert. Trevor: Don't fucking bury me in a desert, okay? I fucking hate deserts. Eric: So do many of the people who live in them. 3. Mitchell: Eric? You're the more serious guitar collector. Which would you save? Eric: The important things are family. So long as I have that, the guitars can burn. Mitchell winces. 4. Kerri: I have a few paintings I'd want to save. Like the first one I did of you, M. Mitchell: And the one of us in the bathroom. Trevor: That's you two? Kerri: Who'd you think it was? Mitchell: Of course it's us. I'm not letting Kerri paint any pictures of couples making love like that unless it's us. 5. Daniel: I talked to Gecko, from Deadly Metal Hatchet the other night. He said Fozzy's taking the Hatchet out there so it can cut down brush and try to help. 6. Mitchell: What're you going to save? Daniel: Val's cookbooks. That way, we can help by making gourmet meals for people stuck living in trailers and shelters and stuff. At least, that's what she says. I don't know how she'll pull it off, though. 7. Eric: There are lots of ways to help. I'm not sure that'll be so easy, either. Daniel shrugs and says: Maybe, but at least it's doing something. Some of those people are our fans. 8. Mitchell: Maybe we'll figure out a way to get t-shirts to anyone who lost their home. It's not much, but at least they'll have something clean to wear. 9. Eric: You'll notice none of us thought about saving our clothes. 10. Mitchell: Makes you wonder how many who had to run thought about it, too. 11. Kerri: I don't know that I would. I think I'd be too busy trying to figure out how to save the painting of you guys that's on the wall in the trophy room. Mitchell: I think that one's a goner, babe. Kerri shudders. 12. Eric: It really makes you think. Appreciate. 13. Daniel: It sure does. Kermit, you're going to donate your payment for this article to the relief effort, right? |
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
View More Thursday Thirteen Participants
Remember, if you're not sure who these people are, click on the links in their names to go visit their bios. And to see ShapeShifter continue to get the best of Kermit, visit these links:
The Balancing Meme
Excerpts from an Interview
Labels: fire, interview, Kermit Ladd, meme, ShapeShifter, Thursday Thirteen
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Thursday Thirteen #42 -- The Creativity Award
Ya know, I keep track of my awards here at home. I've got a small part of my website devoted to them, but that's still a work-in-progress. Who has time to prettify that page when you guys keep handing them out to me?
ShapeShifter wins awards, too, you know. Mitchell and Eric often duke it out for best guitarist, and Daniel gets noticed for his drumming. There's been great songwriting, fan selections, and even a vocalist award or two for the frontman himself, The Great Mitchell Voss. Or so Trevor likes to call him.
Thus, for this week's Thursday Thirteen, I bring you my latest award: PJ at The Urban Recluse was kind enough to award me the Creative Blogger Award.
Thanks again to PJ for the much-appreciated recognition!
And now, in keeping with meme rules, I'd like to pass it on to these people:
Rhian, whose creativity knows no bounds
Robin, who earned it this week.
and L^2, whose creative skill with a camera is mind-blowing.
Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
View More Thursday Thirteen Participants
ShapeShifter wins awards, too, you know. Mitchell and Eric often duke it out for best guitarist, and Daniel gets noticed for his drumming. There's been great songwriting, fan selections, and even a vocalist award or two for the frontman himself, The Great Mitchell Voss. Or so Trevor likes to call him.
Thus, for this week's Thursday Thirteen, I bring you my latest award: PJ at The Urban Recluse was kind enough to award me the Creative Blogger Award.
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| 1. Trevor: You know, more and more people are getting this place of ours. I like it. Mitchell: It's like a band. You start small and get a few fanatics who'll be with you through pretty much anything. They help you get the word out and before you know it, the ink's drying on the deal. 2. Trevor: Except there is no deal for Susan. Eric: It's a matter of time. Mitchell: Yeah. People can only ignore things for so long, and then they wake up one morning and decide that no matter much it doesn't fit into their neat little world, they can't ignore it. Power of the people and all that. Daniel: I wish there was something more we could do to help out. I mean, this isn't just about Susan. It's about us, too. 3. Trevor: It's about me, you mean. Daniel: No, it's about all of us. Trevor: The book's called Trevor's Song. TREVOR. That's me. 4. Mitchell: But the blog's about all four of us. Eric: And some bonus friends. Trevor: Bonus friends? Eric: I wouldn't say it like that around Mitchell. One of them's Kerri. Trevor: Like I'd touch that woman if you paid me to. 5. Daniel: The book may be about you. Mostly. But the blog's about all of us. Mitchell: And the award was for the blog, not the book. See the difference? 6. Trevor: Like I know? I'm a bass player, for fuck's sake, not a writer. Mitchell: Figures. Can't put up when we need you to. Trevor opens his mouth to answer, but Mitchell interrupts. 7. Mitchell: The book's done. The blog's got some fans. Why aren't there more? Eric: Exactly! Look at the gold mine here that no one's tapping. Trevor: Mines cave in. Checked the news lately, Drummer boy? Does the state of Utah ring any bells? Eric: Those poor people. Their poor families. Trevor: You gonna pray for them? Eric: I know you'll never admit it, but you are. Trevor rolls his eyes but doesn't answer. 8. Mitchell: So far, Susan's been given three Thinking Blogger Awards, Three Rockin' Chick/Wench blogger awards, a Schmoozing Blogger award -- Trevor: Think Susan'll ever publish that post she wrote about it? Eric: In time, Trevor. Everything comes in time. 9. Daniel: Including a book deal for Susan? Eric: We can hope. 10. Mitchell: I just don't get it. Daniel: Get what? Mitchell: Why more people aren't jumping on this train. Trevor: Trains wreck. 11. Daniel: Books aren't like demo tapes, that you can put out and circulate around and watch your popularity grow. Trevor: Why not? Eric: Books cost more to print. And we have this blog. Maybe we should be pushing it and let the book follow. Trevor: The book has to follow. The blog's already here. Eric: So we need to build the buzz higher and louder. Daniel: How? 12. Trevor: More of me, of course. Daniel: Less is more. Trevor: Not when we're talking about Trevor Fucking Wolff, it's not. Mitchell: We're supposed to be talking about Susan's awards. 13. Trevor: Why? I'm way more fun to talk about. That's why the focus of Susan's blog isn't Susan. It's me. Daniel: It's all of us. Trevor: You know, you sound like a broken record. Eric: There's a lot to be learned from broken records, Trev. |
Thanks again to PJ for the much-appreciated recognition!
And now, in keeping with meme rules, I'd like to pass it on to these people:
Rhian, whose creativity knows no bounds
Robin, who earned it this week.
and L^2, whose creative skill with a camera is mind-blowing.
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
View More Thursday Thirteen Participants
Labels: Creative Blogger Award, meme, ShapeShifter, Thursday Thirteen
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Thursday Thirteen #31 -- Summertime, summertime, sum, sum, Summertime!
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| Thirteen things ShapeShifter loves to do in the summer: 1. Tour. 2. Play those day-long festivals that are popular. 3. Hang out with the other bands playing the day-long festivals. 4. Find someone in charge who can cough up a grill and some dogs, burgers, and bird. (Bodacious Sauce is a plus but not a requirement) And beer. Don't forget the beer. That is a requirement. 5. Jam with the cooler members of the bands playing the day-long festivals. 6. Learn the music of the cooler bands. 7. Wear the t-shirts of the cooler bands during the ShapeShifter set. Pimp the bands from the stage. 8. Storm the stage when said cooler bands are on. 9. Invite them to do the same. 10. When boredom sets in, swap out band members without telling the crowd what's happening. Make like it's normal for Howard the Hammer to play in Bitterness. 11. When crowd starts to expect that, stop doing it. 12. Throw new songs -- written during the above-mentioned jam sessions -- into the concert set. Watch crowd react. 13. Lather, rinse, repeat until fall and time to head into the studio to record a new album. By the way, that's not ShapeShifter in the header picture; please don't confuse my fictional band for a real one! |
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Labels: meme, rock and roll, ShapeShifter, Thursday Thirteen, touring
Monday, May 21, 2007
Fiction Outtake: Val's Tantrum (Trevor's Song era)
Warning: this outtake contains sexual inneundo and abuse of cookware. Please do not read further if this will upset you.
They could hear the crashing from where they stood outside the practice studio, across the driveway from the house. They'd actually congregated to listen; it was that loud.
"Sounds like your woman needs to get laid," Trevor said, bobbing his head like he knew it all. Then again, when it came to tantrums like this, he did.
"Hardly," Daniel said with a snort.
"That time of the month?" Eric asked. Like he knew about those things, Trevor thought. Mr.-I'd-rather-be-their-friend. His girls got one boringly chaste week on the bus with the band and then forever bought him dinner whenever he blew through town.
Come to think of it, having women buy him dinner wasn't such a bad thing. But that lack of getting off? For-get it. Trevor hadn't formed a band to keep his pants on. Or zipped, for that matter.
"No," Daniel said with a sigh. He hung his head and shook it, looking like a dark brown mop. Trevor snickered, wondering what sort of shit he'd have to clean up later on. Val was not a happy woman in there.
Lately, she'd been like that a lot.
"It's her fault, really," Daniel said. "She told me to make dinner, and I did. No big deal, right?"
Trevor wasn't so sure about that. Part of Val's miserable mood had started when she'd quit the restaurant. That'd been years ago now, but her mood wasn't even a bad wine -- it hadn't even tried to improve with age.
"So what happened?" Mitchell asked. He crossed his arms over his chest and gave Daniel a look like he wanted this to hurry along.
"I told her it was time to clean out the freezer. Maybe reorganize it. I swear, there were twenty pounds of chocolate in there. Candy bars, those big bricks for baking, bags of chips, you name it, it was in there. I swear, it took up half the freezer and didn't leave room for the extra sauce I made! Gram would kill me if I let it go to waste; that's her secret recipe!"
"And the frozen margarita mix took up the other half of the freezer?" Trevor asked, bored with the story of the spaghetti sauce. He'd been hearing about how wonderful Gram's sauce was for years, but every time he had it, he thought it wasn't much better than the jarred shit Mitchell's mother would stock his apartment with.
"She didn't care when I said that ought to go downstairs, too!" Daniel half-whined. Trevor cringed, but when Daniel continued, it was in a better tone. "You know, maybe we could put some food in that freezer? Food, kitchens -- you know what I'm saying here?"
"So now she's throwing things because--" Trevor asked. He needed to hear this. To make sure it was real. And to laugh his ass off when it was.
"You heard it," Daniel sighed. "She's pissed because I asked if she'd move the chocolate."
"Oh, Dans," Mitchell said. He scratched his arm, his face screwed up like he was in pain. "That's harsh. I think if I did that to Kerri, she'd take my head off. Along with other choice parts of me that I'd rather keep."
Trevor couldn't get a word in before Daniel said, "That's our roasting pan she's throwing around now. It better not go through the windows."
"Let's go make some music," Mitchell said, putting a hand on Daniel's shoulder to turn him in the right direction. Eric jumped eagerly for the door of the practice space. Trevor took one last hit of his cigarette and ground it into the gravel.
"Music soothes the savage beast," Mitchell continued, reaching above Daniel's head to hold the door open.
"The only thing soothing that beast is her chocolate," the drummer said, giving the house one last, mournful look.
"And you fuck-ups tell me how great your monogamy shit is," Trevor grumbled, resisting the urge to provoke Mitchell more severely. This would have to do for now.
Sure enough, the big idiot cuffed the back of his head as he walked by. "It is great, you loser. Just sometimes… you gotta take the bad with the great."
"And keep the chocolate upstairs!" Eric laughed.
It didn't escape Trevor that neither of the stupidly attached men in the band laughed along. In fact, Trevor thought, they sorta looked like they wouldn't mind if Eric joined Daniel's head in that roasting pan of Val's.
Just so it wasn't his, Trev thought as he picked up his bass. He had more important things to do.
Thankfully, a steady woman was at the bottom of the list.
They could hear the crashing from where they stood outside the practice studio, across the driveway from the house. They'd actually congregated to listen; it was that loud.
"Sounds like your woman needs to get laid," Trevor said, bobbing his head like he knew it all. Then again, when it came to tantrums like this, he did.
"Hardly," Daniel said with a snort.
"That time of the month?" Eric asked. Like he knew about those things, Trevor thought. Mr.-I'd-rather-be-their-friend. His girls got one boringly chaste week on the bus with the band and then forever bought him dinner whenever he blew through town.
Come to think of it, having women buy him dinner wasn't such a bad thing. But that lack of getting off? For-get it. Trevor hadn't formed a band to keep his pants on. Or zipped, for that matter.
"No," Daniel said with a sigh. He hung his head and shook it, looking like a dark brown mop. Trevor snickered, wondering what sort of shit he'd have to clean up later on. Val was not a happy woman in there.
Lately, she'd been like that a lot.
"It's her fault, really," Daniel said. "She told me to make dinner, and I did. No big deal, right?"
Trevor wasn't so sure about that. Part of Val's miserable mood had started when she'd quit the restaurant. That'd been years ago now, but her mood wasn't even a bad wine -- it hadn't even tried to improve with age.
"So what happened?" Mitchell asked. He crossed his arms over his chest and gave Daniel a look like he wanted this to hurry along.
"I told her it was time to clean out the freezer. Maybe reorganize it. I swear, there were twenty pounds of chocolate in there. Candy bars, those big bricks for baking, bags of chips, you name it, it was in there. I swear, it took up half the freezer and didn't leave room for the extra sauce I made! Gram would kill me if I let it go to waste; that's her secret recipe!"
"And the frozen margarita mix took up the other half of the freezer?" Trevor asked, bored with the story of the spaghetti sauce. He'd been hearing about how wonderful Gram's sauce was for years, but every time he had it, he thought it wasn't much better than the jarred shit Mitchell's mother would stock his apartment with.
"She didn't care when I said that ought to go downstairs, too!" Daniel half-whined. Trevor cringed, but when Daniel continued, it was in a better tone. "You know, maybe we could put some food in that freezer? Food, kitchens -- you know what I'm saying here?"
"So now she's throwing things because--" Trevor asked. He needed to hear this. To make sure it was real. And to laugh his ass off when it was.
"You heard it," Daniel sighed. "She's pissed because I asked if she'd move the chocolate."
"Oh, Dans," Mitchell said. He scratched his arm, his face screwed up like he was in pain. "That's harsh. I think if I did that to Kerri, she'd take my head off. Along with other choice parts of me that I'd rather keep."
Trevor couldn't get a word in before Daniel said, "That's our roasting pan she's throwing around now. It better not go through the windows."
"Let's go make some music," Mitchell said, putting a hand on Daniel's shoulder to turn him in the right direction. Eric jumped eagerly for the door of the practice space. Trevor took one last hit of his cigarette and ground it into the gravel.
"Music soothes the savage beast," Mitchell continued, reaching above Daniel's head to hold the door open.
"The only thing soothing that beast is her chocolate," the drummer said, giving the house one last, mournful look.
"And you fuck-ups tell me how great your monogamy shit is," Trevor grumbled, resisting the urge to provoke Mitchell more severely. This would have to do for now.
Sure enough, the big idiot cuffed the back of his head as he walked by. "It is great, you loser. Just sometimes… you gotta take the bad with the great."
"And keep the chocolate upstairs!" Eric laughed.
It didn't escape Trevor that neither of the stupidly attached men in the band laughed along. In fact, Trevor thought, they sorta looked like they wouldn't mind if Eric joined Daniel's head in that roasting pan of Val's.
Just so it wasn't his, Trev thought as he picked up his bass. He had more important things to do.
Thankfully, a steady woman was at the bottom of the list.
Labels: chocolate, creative writing, Daniel, fiction, Mitchell, outtake, ShapeShifter, Trevor, Val
