I feel like I need to wrap things up somehow; to sum up for you and myself the results of the summer.
But the thing is that after my first two college summers, there WAS something to wrap up; some summing to be done. Because they were over, they were finished, and no matter how bad I wanted to (which was a lot), I could never continue them.
But this time? This time is different because it is going to continue. Whether it continues in Los Angeles, with a New Media department, or at a record label is still up in the air, but what’s for sure is that it will still be indie, glam, cutthroat, and more wonderful than words can ever explain.
Most important part of the summer: realizing that I CAN and WILL be able to make a living doing exactly what I love.
But on a more entertaining and less depressing note, here you go:
Top 5 moments/adventures of the summer:
1. "Hi, I’m Pouyan:" Having my favorite keyboardist introduce himself to me.
2. "Wanna sleep on our floor?:" Riding in a band’s tour van to a closed beach, jumping the barrier and playing in the Pacific for an hour in the middle of the night.
3. "Know what I like about you? You eat like a dude:" The amazing guys I worked with every day.
4. "MEET ME AT RAINBOW ROOM!:" The lead singer of some band pulling me into pictures with him for Dutch Esquire at Viper Room when I was the only sober one at the club.
5. "Do you want a drink or something?:" Meeting pretty much every screamo, emo, and punk band on the scene at the first two dates of Warped Tour and the countless cheap shows I managed to get into.
The two music videos I was in, the all-access passes to countless shows, the phone calls to random Immortal bands and the awesome unreleased mixes I listened to everyday don’t even make the cut.
The one thing this summer had in common with every other one was that there was a very specific soundtrack to summer ‘07, all of which I will never be able to listen to again without thinking of this summer...
Side A: Songs I Can’t Sit Still While Listening To:
Scary Kids Scaring Kids– Darkest Hour (This makes the list because even though it’s old, I found myself re-enacting the video with the other label interns every time we went anywhere. Shotgun!)
Halifax– Snow In Hollywood (I never saw snow in Hollywood, but I did see an awful lot of great bands play there.)
Family Force 5– Replace Me (The band has a guy in it named Crouton, which is enough to generally make me not listen to them, but this one’s awfully catchy.)
Aiden– One Love (Oh, come on. Everyone needs more pop goth in their lives.)
Love Hate Hero– Amity (My current pet band. And the remix is somehow even better.)
The Receiving End Of Sirens– Planning A Prison Break (What is wrong with a jailbreak, baby?)
Blaqk Audio– Stiff Kittens (I spent most of the summer counting down the release of this album. I really am a 15-year-old skater boy at heart.)
Knights Are Coming– Sex City (This song is amazing because I think it’s meant to be serious, but the lyrics make it such a joke I’m not sure.)
Emarosa– Casablanca (They slept on the rock star couch, I had to include this one.)
Funeral For A Friend– Reunion (Brit punk pop goes... to Southern California?)
The Academy Is...– We’ve Got A Big Mess On Our Hands (Suck up your FBR and skinny-boy objections, they were good before anyone knew it.)
Against Me!– Thrash Unreal (I was in the video. Enough said.)
Shiny Toy Guns– You Are The One (Reminds me of The Sounds, who obviously are amazing)
A Heartwell Ending– Medicated Kisses (Try to listen and not sing.)
Bonus Secret Hidden Track: Scary Kids Scaring Kids– Faces (SAIL AWAY THESE FACES! I was in this video too. My messenger bag makes a more prominent appearance than I do.)
Side B: Ubersweet Really Chill Indie Rock Ballads I Secretly Wish Were Written About Me:
Boys Like Girls– Thunder Acoustic (Other than this song, they are a pretty silly band, but this one makes up for the shallowness.)
Cartel– The Minstrel’s Prayer (ATL, represent!)
Ryan Adams– La Cienega Just Smiled (Not new and definitely not about a girl, but as a Southern-California-first-timer, the whole idea took on new meaning.)
Plain White T’s– Hey There Delilah (To put it in the words of my former boss, this guy set the bar higher for ugly guys playing guitar everywhere.)
Mayday Parade– Jersey (With an album called ‘A Lesson In Romantics,’ did you really expect them NOT to make this list?)
The National– Abel (Is amazing, and thus even though it’s old, completely deserves this list.)
Rock Kills Kid– I Turn My Camera On (I’m not sure who did this song first, but Rock Kills Kid does an awfully good version)
The Get Up Kids– I’ll Catch You (Not new, but I saw New Found Glory twice in the last six months on two different continents completely by accident both times, and I totally wish I was the one being caught, so it qualifies for this list.)
Hot Rod Circuit– Stateside (shouldn’t really count as either chill or a ballad, but I still wish I was the "crazy girl" for whom Andy Jackson pines... And to whom he brings a half gallon of milk.)
*I don’t like Cold War Kids and I am going to quit pretending like I do.
I don’t think anyone TRULY likes Bright Eyes, and I am tired of everyone acting like he is the reigning king of indie music. I’ll say what everyone else is afraid to: Pete Yorn is better.
There. Now that I’ve lost all taste points forever, if you still want to be my friend, MySpace me or something, because I miss you.
And the lessons? Well, here’s a quick snapshot:
1. No matter how hard you work, sometimes it will never be good enough. Particularly when you’re told to find a dozen vintage metal non-matching lunchboxes with 45 minutes notice on a Thursday in June.
2. If they’re talking about everyone else TO you, they’re probably talking about YOU to everyone else.
3. Ask and you shall receive. Be a good intern and you don’t have to ask.
4. Treat every phone call like they’re your new best friend and you’ll end up with contacts that last longer than the job.
5. Be honest about your feelings; chances are you are less transparent than you think anyway... [Why, at the age of 21, do I still find myself handling those questions by ducking and blushing instead of being able to shrug and tell the truth?]
So things are kind of left hanging, which sucks because for the next two semesters, my life is in the balance and I have no idea where I’ll end up. But maybe it rocks... because no doors were shut, so when it’s time to go back, I’ve got options... and things and people and situations waiting for me.
I miss California, I’ll miss the free schwag, the calling of the rock stars, the drama, the glamour, the glitter, the CD release parties, list concerts, wristbands, phone calls, new friends, new awkwardness, random compliments, random rock stars, awesome job, and perhaps most of all...
you.
So stay in touch. MySpace. Email. Text. Phone, if you want... I don’t really care. But for heaven’s sake, don’t take all this away from me now.
To put it in the words of Mayday Parade, "Oh, Cali is calling, and I'm never going back to Georgia, not at least till I have to..."
~Mayday Blair
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Tear away these faces...
New pics! New vids! New glam!
Yay for adding another "on the list" show to my repertoire... Went to the El Rey last night for the band's show just in time for the last opening act, Boys' Night Out from somewhere in Canada. Scary Kids took the stage right on time, and all the Immortal employees chilled at the back watching the most ridiculous live show ever. The thing about Scary Kids is that they are INFINITELY more exciting live than any other band in the history of the world. Between their headbanging double guitarists and the keyboardist who only ACTUALLY plays about 5% of every song, their stage presence is not quite like any other band. (How many times have YOU seen a keyboardist under five-and-a-half-feet tall pick his instrument up off of its stand and play it vertically with his tongue before the band's set is even half over? Also, how are his arms even long enough to reach from one end to the other?)
I hadn't seen Scary Kids perform since Warped Tour in June, so it was awesome seeing them live again, playing, of course, all the amazing songs I've come to jam to in the bus every morning on the way to work.
I've done SO MUCH random stuff involving their tour and album release this summer that I am thinking I might pay a visit to Charlotte to catch them live again in a few weeks... It's the closest they'll be to ATL, and... I mean... they're awesome! And, of course, I never get tired of being on the list. :)
Reena, the other Immortal intern, and me at the video shoot for "Faces" in an underground meatpacking building.
Dress: not mine.
Belt: studded, and most definitely mine.
Eyeliner: thick.
Hair: FABULOUS.
The hair was teased into a giant puffball before being twisted into bobbypins with "an emphasis on your awesome bangline." The next morning I had to condition three times to get all the tangles out from the backcombing!
"I have to go now. Yeah, I'm about to eat some chicken."
~Blair
Yay for adding another "on the list" show to my repertoire... Went to the El Rey last night for the band's show just in time for the last opening act, Boys' Night Out from somewhere in Canada. Scary Kids took the stage right on time, and all the Immortal employees chilled at the back watching the most ridiculous live show ever. The thing about Scary Kids is that they are INFINITELY more exciting live than any other band in the history of the world. Between their headbanging double guitarists and the keyboardist who only ACTUALLY plays about 5% of every song, their stage presence is not quite like any other band. (How many times have YOU seen a keyboardist under five-and-a-half-feet tall pick his instrument up off of its stand and play it vertically with his tongue before the band's set is even half over? Also, how are his arms even long enough to reach from one end to the other?)
I hadn't seen Scary Kids perform since Warped Tour in June, so it was awesome seeing them live again, playing, of course, all the amazing songs I've come to jam to in the bus every morning on the way to work.
I've done SO MUCH random stuff involving their tour and album release this summer that I am thinking I might pay a visit to Charlotte to catch them live again in a few weeks... It's the closest they'll be to ATL, and... I mean... they're awesome! And, of course, I never get tired of being on the list. :)
Reena, the other Immortal intern, and me at the video shoot for "Faces" in an underground meatpacking building. Dress: not mine.
Belt: studded, and most definitely mine.
Eyeliner: thick.
Hair: FABULOUS.
The hair was teased into a giant puffball before being twisted into bobbypins with "an emphasis on your awesome bangline." The next morning I had to condition three times to get all the tangles out from the backcombing!"I have to go now. Yeah, I'm about to eat some chicken."
~Blair
Now accepting positions in upcoming indie rock videos...
Wow. I think it's time we get something out on the table. This is not like one of my bogus confessions where I pretend that I am ashamed of something that I am actually proud of, like when I say that I am an emo kid. This is legit.
I get starstruck.
It's time I came to grips with that. Even after this summer of hanging out with band members and rock stars, calling them on the phone, letting them sleep on my floor and convincing them to put me on their lists, I STILL get starstruck. Not always-- it depends on the celeb, but the thing is that if they are in a band, it is likely I'll get starstruck.
Here's one for the books: I can handle myself-- my stomach doesn't even flutter-- when MAGIC JOHNSON says "good afternoon" to me. But when the keyboardist of my favorite screamo band signed to the label where I work introduces himself, my tongue goes useless and despite the way I blinked coyly, all I managed to get out was "I'm Blaiiiiir," even though my brain was screaming "I WORK FOR YOUR LABEL, JUST SAY THAT I WORK FOR YOUR LABEL! AND THAT HE IS THE COOLEST PERFORMER I HAVE EVER SEEN! AND ALSO THE SMALLEST!"
But he's not even famous famous; I could tell you his name or show you his picture, and unless you are a lot more of a scenester than I am thinking you are, you would have no idea who he is. Just some 21-year-old short kid with a funny name and amazing hair from the Western US.
This is the thing about being a person who gets starstruck. I HAVE been around enough "celebrities" that I LOOK like I know what I'm doing. I know how to walk straight to the door of a venue and FAKE like I belong, whether I do or not. And with my dark-dyed swoop, thick eyeliner and electric-guitar-shaped earrings, I look like a legit scenester. So people will come and introduce themselves to me (like the time I scored an invite to a band's afterparty just by standing next to the lead guitarist and looking bored), but being starstruck means that you can't trust anything your brain tells you.
Even though it would have been perfectly logical to say that I worked for the band's label, it would OBVIOUSLY be hugely problematic to announce that the keyboardist is the shortest person I have ever seen take the stage. And since in that split-second time frame it's impossible to differentiate which is ok to say, I have to settle for nothing but my name.
One of the guys I work for is always quiet and never really says anything to me, except for when he pulls through last minute with some ridiculously amazing deal: "Hey Blair, wanna go to Warped Tour tomorrow with an All-Access backstage pass?" or "Hey Blair, wanna be in the Scary Kids Scaring Kids' new video on Monday?" Which is how I ended up wandering into the meatpacking district with a Starbucks cup this morning at 10am. I took the bus with one friend to the corner of Mateo Street. We were supposed to walk one block from there to Willow Street, where the set/warehouse was. We walked a block to an unmarked street-- "Ok, let's try it." We turned down the street and ended up in front of a warehouse-style building full of... TV sets? This can't be right, we thought, so we walked out and into the next doorway, marked "Los Angeles Kickboxing Gym." Standing in the doorway with a stairwell going up and another going down, I felt like Philippe the horse in Beauty and the Beast-- all my instincts pointing me upward where it was light, and the set assistant I had passed in the street telling me to go down the [pitch black] staircase.
So I stepped from the sunny Southern California morning into the pitch blackness of the basement warehouse. Which turned out to be a former slaughterhouse complete with vaulted doors dividing up the corridors with labels stencilled on them like "KILLING ROOM." I swear. The whole thing is rat poop in corners, crumbling plaster walls, meat hooks hanging from the low ceilings, vaulted doors and tunnel after tunnel. I can't explain how ridiculously horror movie this place was... We sat down in director's chairs with two of the guys from the label in front of a monitor where we could watch the band filming take after take walking down one of the tunnels singing the first verse of the song and waited for our call time. But pretty soon the wardrobe lady came through calling for all the extras-- and announces to me and the other intern that we can't be in the shoot because we're not in all black. "I'm sorry," I said, "I work for the label and they just told us to come down-- we had no idea we had to be in black." "The label? You're with Immortal?" the wardrober snapped to attention. "Hold on, I think one of the other girls came with extra clothes." She walked me out to the awning outside where most of the band and a couple of the extras were trying to get some sun. I met the band a couple months ago, but I had re-introduced myself to most of them already by the time the wardrobe lady dragged me over to them. I had not, however, told them that I worked for Immortal, because they are never on particularly good terms with the label owner.
The wardrobe lady walks over to the band and the two extras that are hanging out with them (friends from back in the day) and says "these two fine young ladies work for Immortal--" everyone stops talking "and need some clothes to wear. Anyone have anything extra?"
"They're with the label?" "They're with the label!" we heard, and one of the girls rolled her eyes and told her we'd find her pink bag downstairs and we could wear whatever we wanted.
Schlepping back into the basement, I found her bag on one of the portable vanities set up down there (why I have no idea; there was no light to use the mirror with). I found a slinky black halter dress, walked through a vaulted door that I left open only a sliver, and changed clothes in the pitch blackness. I walked back out, having no idea how it looked, but when I saw the look on the keyboardist's face as I emerged from the vault, I decided it was probably a good choice.
"Let's get you some jewelry, and then you need to get to hair and makeup ASAP," we were told, before being decked out with really clunky amazing silver jewels. I walked upstairs and outside to have my hair done, sat still while she backcombed my hair into a wild mess and then twisted it back into a punk-goes-prom-with-swoop style, and I knew the look they were going for had worked when I saw my boss walking toward me, yelled "Hey, Isaac," and he looked right at me without a shred of recognition while trying to figure out how this girl in the glam cocktail dress knew his name.
We went back downstairs and walking around in the inky blackness I felt like such a movie star-- wherever I went, the light seemed always to be either right behind me, lighting up my silhouette and casting my shadow all over the cement floor or else directly in front of me so all I could see were the silhouettes of the people I was walking toward. I got some really intense looks, and all the girl extras kept asking why I got MY hair done and no one would do theirs. As soon as you drop the label-bomb on a video set, you are catered to hand and foot because, technically, you could end the shoot if you wanted because your company is paying for the whole thing. Obviously I couldn't end the shoot because I am a lowly intern, but no one on the set knew that, and every time my bosses walked by, they told me to just go with it, so go with it I did.
We watched the band shoot their last few takes, applied our last coats of eyeliner, and walked into a room marked "Kill Room" to do our shot. The theme of the video is all futuristic and crazy, so apparently in the future, there is only one drink, and it's neon green and drank out of tall macaroni-shaped glasses. We stood around mingling in a room full of steam looking futuristic while the band watched from the sidelines. All in all, it was a good time-- scary to be in the dankest basement (once a slaughterhouse, it's now used to film porn) I've ever seen, exciting to be hanging out with the coolest/hottest band of the moment, and ridiculously glam to be in the slinkiest cocktail dress ever, a comfy pair of Chucks with completely mod hair and talking to all the single members of the band like best friends.
Goooooood times. And the best part? They've got a real show tonight at the El Rey. And guess who's on the list?
Awkward moment of the day: I'm talking to the really awesome keyboardist, and, well... here's a transcript of what happened:
Background: Blair is looking for a bottle of water, notices keyboardist standing at table WITH a bottle of water.
Blair, thinking: "Shoulders back, back straight, stomach in, lips pursed... push your hair back gently... deep breath and..."
Keyboardist, out loud: "If you're looking for water, there's some over there."
Blair, thinking: "HE initiated conversation! Rock on!"
Blair, out loud: "Thanks! Hey, you guys were great, by the way..." (meaning the whole day's filming, not the most recent shot)
Keyboardist: "Yeah, it was all tracked, so no big deal."
Blair, thinking: "Ok, B, way to go, now he thinks you're dumb because WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND DOESN'T KNOW THAT A MUSIC VIDEO SHOOT IS TRACKED??? Quick, clarify!"
Blair, out loud: "Yeah, I know, I just mean... you were so convincing about it."
Blair, thinking: "AWKWARDAWKWARDAWKWARD, WHY couldn't I be SMOOTHER??? And more importantly, why couldn't HE be TALLER?? I'd be WAY more under control if I wasn't staring down at the top of his head! How tall is this kid anyway? 5'3"? "
So probably this guy thinks that I am some ridiculously shallow label employee who can't tell the difference between a recording and a live performance, despite the fact that I have set up pretty much all their record signings of the summer, sent out thousands of their posters and hundreds of their not-yet-released watermark sophomore albums.
Coolyan,
Blair
I get starstruck.
It's time I came to grips with that. Even after this summer of hanging out with band members and rock stars, calling them on the phone, letting them sleep on my floor and convincing them to put me on their lists, I STILL get starstruck. Not always-- it depends on the celeb, but the thing is that if they are in a band, it is likely I'll get starstruck.
Here's one for the books: I can handle myself-- my stomach doesn't even flutter-- when MAGIC JOHNSON says "good afternoon" to me. But when the keyboardist of my favorite screamo band signed to the label where I work introduces himself, my tongue goes useless and despite the way I blinked coyly, all I managed to get out was "I'm Blaiiiiir," even though my brain was screaming "I WORK FOR YOUR LABEL, JUST SAY THAT I WORK FOR YOUR LABEL! AND THAT HE IS THE COOLEST PERFORMER I HAVE EVER SEEN! AND ALSO THE SMALLEST!"
But he's not even famous famous; I could tell you his name or show you his picture, and unless you are a lot more of a scenester than I am thinking you are, you would have no idea who he is. Just some 21-year-old short kid with a funny name and amazing hair from the Western US.
This is the thing about being a person who gets starstruck. I HAVE been around enough "celebrities" that I LOOK like I know what I'm doing. I know how to walk straight to the door of a venue and FAKE like I belong, whether I do or not. And with my dark-dyed swoop, thick eyeliner and electric-guitar-shaped earrings, I look like a legit scenester. So people will come and introduce themselves to me (like the time I scored an invite to a band's afterparty just by standing next to the lead guitarist and looking bored), but being starstruck means that you can't trust anything your brain tells you.
Even though it would have been perfectly logical to say that I worked for the band's label, it would OBVIOUSLY be hugely problematic to announce that the keyboardist is the shortest person I have ever seen take the stage. And since in that split-second time frame it's impossible to differentiate which is ok to say, I have to settle for nothing but my name.
One of the guys I work for is always quiet and never really says anything to me, except for when he pulls through last minute with some ridiculously amazing deal: "Hey Blair, wanna go to Warped Tour tomorrow with an All-Access backstage pass?" or "Hey Blair, wanna be in the Scary Kids Scaring Kids' new video on Monday?" Which is how I ended up wandering into the meatpacking district with a Starbucks cup this morning at 10am. I took the bus with one friend to the corner of Mateo Street. We were supposed to walk one block from there to Willow Street, where the set/warehouse was. We walked a block to an unmarked street-- "Ok, let's try it." We turned down the street and ended up in front of a warehouse-style building full of... TV sets? This can't be right, we thought, so we walked out and into the next doorway, marked "Los Angeles Kickboxing Gym." Standing in the doorway with a stairwell going up and another going down, I felt like Philippe the horse in Beauty and the Beast-- all my instincts pointing me upward where it was light, and the set assistant I had passed in the street telling me to go down the [pitch black] staircase.
So I stepped from the sunny Southern California morning into the pitch blackness of the basement warehouse. Which turned out to be a former slaughterhouse complete with vaulted doors dividing up the corridors with labels stencilled on them like "KILLING ROOM." I swear. The whole thing is rat poop in corners, crumbling plaster walls, meat hooks hanging from the low ceilings, vaulted doors and tunnel after tunnel. I can't explain how ridiculously horror movie this place was... We sat down in director's chairs with two of the guys from the label in front of a monitor where we could watch the band filming take after take walking down one of the tunnels singing the first verse of the song and waited for our call time. But pretty soon the wardrobe lady came through calling for all the extras-- and announces to me and the other intern that we can't be in the shoot because we're not in all black. "I'm sorry," I said, "I work for the label and they just told us to come down-- we had no idea we had to be in black." "The label? You're with Immortal?" the wardrober snapped to attention. "Hold on, I think one of the other girls came with extra clothes." She walked me out to the awning outside where most of the band and a couple of the extras were trying to get some sun. I met the band a couple months ago, but I had re-introduced myself to most of them already by the time the wardrobe lady dragged me over to them. I had not, however, told them that I worked for Immortal, because they are never on particularly good terms with the label owner.
The wardrobe lady walks over to the band and the two extras that are hanging out with them (friends from back in the day) and says "these two fine young ladies work for Immortal--" everyone stops talking "and need some clothes to wear. Anyone have anything extra?"
"They're with the label?" "They're with the label!" we heard, and one of the girls rolled her eyes and told her we'd find her pink bag downstairs and we could wear whatever we wanted.
Schlepping back into the basement, I found her bag on one of the portable vanities set up down there (why I have no idea; there was no light to use the mirror with). I found a slinky black halter dress, walked through a vaulted door that I left open only a sliver, and changed clothes in the pitch blackness. I walked back out, having no idea how it looked, but when I saw the look on the keyboardist's face as I emerged from the vault, I decided it was probably a good choice.
"Let's get you some jewelry, and then you need to get to hair and makeup ASAP," we were told, before being decked out with really clunky amazing silver jewels. I walked upstairs and outside to have my hair done, sat still while she backcombed my hair into a wild mess and then twisted it back into a punk-goes-prom-with-swoop style, and I knew the look they were going for had worked when I saw my boss walking toward me, yelled "Hey, Isaac," and he looked right at me without a shred of recognition while trying to figure out how this girl in the glam cocktail dress knew his name.
We went back downstairs and walking around in the inky blackness I felt like such a movie star-- wherever I went, the light seemed always to be either right behind me, lighting up my silhouette and casting my shadow all over the cement floor or else directly in front of me so all I could see were the silhouettes of the people I was walking toward. I got some really intense looks, and all the girl extras kept asking why I got MY hair done and no one would do theirs. As soon as you drop the label-bomb on a video set, you are catered to hand and foot because, technically, you could end the shoot if you wanted because your company is paying for the whole thing. Obviously I couldn't end the shoot because I am a lowly intern, but no one on the set knew that, and every time my bosses walked by, they told me to just go with it, so go with it I did.
We watched the band shoot their last few takes, applied our last coats of eyeliner, and walked into a room marked "Kill Room" to do our shot. The theme of the video is all futuristic and crazy, so apparently in the future, there is only one drink, and it's neon green and drank out of tall macaroni-shaped glasses. We stood around mingling in a room full of steam looking futuristic while the band watched from the sidelines. All in all, it was a good time-- scary to be in the dankest basement (once a slaughterhouse, it's now used to film porn) I've ever seen, exciting to be hanging out with the coolest/hottest band of the moment, and ridiculously glam to be in the slinkiest cocktail dress ever, a comfy pair of Chucks with completely mod hair and talking to all the single members of the band like best friends.
Goooooood times. And the best part? They've got a real show tonight at the El Rey. And guess who's on the list?
Awkward moment of the day: I'm talking to the really awesome keyboardist, and, well... here's a transcript of what happened:
Background: Blair is looking for a bottle of water, notices keyboardist standing at table WITH a bottle of water.
Blair, thinking: "Shoulders back, back straight, stomach in, lips pursed... push your hair back gently... deep breath and..."
Keyboardist, out loud: "If you're looking for water, there's some over there."
Blair, thinking: "HE initiated conversation! Rock on!"
Blair, out loud: "Thanks! Hey, you guys were great, by the way..." (meaning the whole day's filming, not the most recent shot)
Keyboardist: "Yeah, it was all tracked, so no big deal."
Blair, thinking: "Ok, B, way to go, now he thinks you're dumb because WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND DOESN'T KNOW THAT A MUSIC VIDEO SHOOT IS TRACKED??? Quick, clarify!"
Blair, out loud: "Yeah, I know, I just mean... you were so convincing about it."
Blair, thinking: "AWKWARDAWKWARDAWKWARD, WHY couldn't I be SMOOTHER??? And more importantly, why couldn't HE be TALLER?? I'd be WAY more under control if I wasn't staring down at the top of his head! How tall is this kid anyway? 5'3"? "
So probably this guy thinks that I am some ridiculously shallow label employee who can't tell the difference between a recording and a live performance, despite the fact that I have set up pretty much all their record signings of the summer, sent out thousands of their posters and hundreds of their not-yet-released watermark sophomore albums.
Coolyan,
Blair
Sunday, August 5, 2007
I bet she's still a sucker for those famous faces...
Famous people I've met/run into/talked to on the phone this summer, chronologically-ish:
*Doris Roberts.
*Kate Beckinsale.
*As Cities Burn.
*My American Heart.
*Bad Religion.
*Scary Kids Scaring Kids.
*Adema.
*Dave Navarro.
*Magic Johnson.
*Winona Ryder.
*Say Anything.
*There For Tomorrow.
*Emarosa.
*Hot Rod Circuit.
*Against Me!
Oh, and I may have been bought a drink by Shannon Leto, but I can neither confirm or deny that rumor.
I think that's all, but the summer has been so ridiculous I can't actually remember if there WERE any others. It also depends how many albums one has to sell before they are considered famous-- I've met an awful lot of starving bands.
But the most recent one was WINONA RYDER today... I won't tell you where, because you'd never believe it anyway, but I swear it's true. This is why I LOVE Los Angeles.
Oh, and in case you were concerned, I figured out what I'm going to wear to the video shoot. Here's a hint: it involves Converse sneakers, aviator sunglasses, lots of eyeliner, and a studded belt. All in black and white, which seems to be not only all I wear but also all I buy lately.
Los Angeles, I'm yours.
~Groupietern.
P.S. If anyone knows how I can score a Blaqk Audio CD in the next six days ORRRRR where I can meet Davey Havok and/or Jade Puget prior to me leaving this coast-- help a sister out. (ASAP, thanks.)
*Doris Roberts.
*Kate Beckinsale.
*As Cities Burn.
*My American Heart.
*Bad Religion.
*Scary Kids Scaring Kids.
*Adema.
*Dave Navarro.
*Magic Johnson.
*Winona Ryder.
*Say Anything.
*There For Tomorrow.
*Emarosa.
*Hot Rod Circuit.
*Against Me!
Oh, and I may have been bought a drink by Shannon Leto, but I can neither confirm or deny that rumor.
I think that's all, but the summer has been so ridiculous I can't actually remember if there WERE any others. It also depends how many albums one has to sell before they are considered famous-- I've met an awful lot of starving bands.
But the most recent one was WINONA RYDER today... I won't tell you where, because you'd never believe it anyway, but I swear it's true. This is why I LOVE Los Angeles.
Oh, and in case you were concerned, I figured out what I'm going to wear to the video shoot. Here's a hint: it involves Converse sneakers, aviator sunglasses, lots of eyeliner, and a studded belt. All in black and white, which seems to be not only all I wear but also all I buy lately.
Los Angeles, I'm yours.
~Groupietern.
P.S. If anyone knows how I can score a Blaqk Audio CD in the next six days ORRRRR where I can meet Davey Havok and/or Jade Puget prior to me leaving this coast-- help a sister out. (ASAP, thanks.)
Oh yeah, I said it.
Some guy from Greenpeace stopped me in Santa Monica a couple days ago and asked if I was opposed to global warming. I like to pretend that I like Greenpeace and I like to pretend that I am a vegetarian, but the truth is I don't really know anything about Greenpeace and I've been eating meat for almost a year.
"I'm sorry," I said, "I'm in a hurry but I take the bus," I said self-importantly. For the rest of my life, I will never feel guilty about whatever chemicals my car may or may not be putting off because I have monthly public transportation passes dating back an entire YEAR.
How's that for self-righteous?
~GreenB
"I'm sorry," I said, "I'm in a hurry but I take the bus," I said self-importantly. For the rest of my life, I will never feel guilty about whatever chemicals my car may or may not be putting off because I have monthly public transportation passes dating back an entire YEAR.
How's that for self-righteous?
~GreenB
Saturday, August 4, 2007
professional music video actress
So I just got asked to be in a music video for these guys:
I don't know anything about it except that they're one of my top 10 favorite bands, the shoot is in downtown LA, and since they are signed to my label, I don't even have to go to work on Monday.
I'm not gonna lie; I'm stoked.
Oh no! What am I going to wear!??
Love,
Scary Girl Scaring Girls.
P.S. This same band is playing here on Tuesday-- when trying to make a list of Immortal employees planning on going, my boss waved me off when I said I wanted to go. "I know, I know YOU want to go. No worries, I wrote it down already!" I really am a groupie.
I don't know anything about it except that they're one of my top 10 favorite bands, the shoot is in downtown LA, and since they are signed to my label, I don't even have to go to work on Monday.I'm not gonna lie; I'm stoked.
Oh no! What am I going to wear!??
Love,
Scary Girl Scaring Girls.
P.S. This same band is playing here on Tuesday-- when trying to make a list of Immortal employees planning on going, my boss waved me off when I said I wanted to go. "I know, I know YOU want to go. No worries, I wrote it down already!" I really am a groupie.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Oh, what a ridiculous week it's been...
Perhaps Mayday Parade sums it up best: "I'm never going back to Georgia; not at least till I have to..."
More and more things are piling up lately to make me NOT want to go back to Atlanta-- it's so funny how these things go with me; when I left Emory I was so sad to go, now it's time to go back and I just don't want to. I didn't want to leave Emory fifteen months ago because I knew that when I came back (whenever that was) it would be completely different. Now I am making plans to go back, it's getting more and more real, and I have no desire to go back-- it feels like I graduated high school, went through my entire freshman year at Emory, and then was told I have to move back home and go back to one more year of high school. It's a closed book in my head now, mostly because in France all my friends were twenty-somethings who were done with school and now, in California, all my friends are people my age who didn't go to school in order to work in music.
So I don't want to leave California; I'm doing right now what I want to do for the rest of my life-- why should I abandon it, even if it is "only" for nine months? And equally I don't want to go back to Georgia. Everything's different now; people are dating, engaged, that were single when I left. Over half of my friends graduated in May, some of them stayed in Atlanta, including the one I'll be living with, but they're not going to be on campus anymore. And then there's my schedule-- stupid French classes that are stupid now because what am I gonna learn from 130 minutes a week in a classroom that I DIDN'T learn in a year living in the country? Three PE classes (some things never change-- I hated PE as a kid; put off Health in high school until senior year; have managed to take NO PE classes as a college student yet. If only they counted all those hikes from last summer...); a lab science; blah blah blah...
Things I don't want to go back to; situations I don't want to face; and a job and a lifestyle here that I DON'T want to (or have to) leave.
Oh, calm down, I'm going back to school. Mostly only because I already have the coolest roommate ever planned and I can't let her down this late in the game.
In other news, all the other interns finished this week, making me the only one left. Who suddenly gets told things like this, by the same guy that nicknamed me Normaltern:
"Blair, I like you because you eat like a dude."
"Uhh, what?" I ask, swallowing a bite of burrito from the Mexican place across the street from work.
"Yeah, you eat like a dude, and I think that's awesome. I hate when girls are only about salad and... and... yogurt."
I squinted my eyes at him, trying to decide how to respond. He's probably the only person in the world that could say that to me and I would take it as a compliment.
Maybe, to put it in the words of my favorite Western 90's rockers, "I'm never going back to college, I'll just work my day job..."
~Normaltern.
P.S. I recently learned that the English translation for "rie de veau" is sweetbreads, meaning I have eaten veal pancreas on multiple occasions while in France, and I had no idea. Wow.
Perhaps Mayday Parade sums it up best: "I'm never going back to Georgia; not at least till I have to..."
More and more things are piling up lately to make me NOT want to go back to Atlanta-- it's so funny how these things go with me; when I left Emory I was so sad to go, now it's time to go back and I just don't want to. I didn't want to leave Emory fifteen months ago because I knew that when I came back (whenever that was) it would be completely different. Now I am making plans to go back, it's getting more and more real, and I have no desire to go back-- it feels like I graduated high school, went through my entire freshman year at Emory, and then was told I have to move back home and go back to one more year of high school. It's a closed book in my head now, mostly because in France all my friends were twenty-somethings who were done with school and now, in California, all my friends are people my age who didn't go to school in order to work in music.
So I don't want to leave California; I'm doing right now what I want to do for the rest of my life-- why should I abandon it, even if it is "only" for nine months? And equally I don't want to go back to Georgia. Everything's different now; people are dating, engaged, that were single when I left. Over half of my friends graduated in May, some of them stayed in Atlanta, including the one I'll be living with, but they're not going to be on campus anymore. And then there's my schedule-- stupid French classes that are stupid now because what am I gonna learn from 130 minutes a week in a classroom that I DIDN'T learn in a year living in the country? Three PE classes (some things never change-- I hated PE as a kid; put off Health in high school until senior year; have managed to take NO PE classes as a college student yet. If only they counted all those hikes from last summer...); a lab science; blah blah blah...
Things I don't want to go back to; situations I don't want to face; and a job and a lifestyle here that I DON'T want to (or have to) leave.
Oh, calm down, I'm going back to school. Mostly only because I already have the coolest roommate ever planned and I can't let her down this late in the game.
In other news, all the other interns finished this week, making me the only one left. Who suddenly gets told things like this, by the same guy that nicknamed me Normaltern:
"Blair, I like you because you eat like a dude."
"Uhh, what?" I ask, swallowing a bite of burrito from the Mexican place across the street from work.
"Yeah, you eat like a dude, and I think that's awesome. I hate when girls are only about salad and... and... yogurt."
I squinted my eyes at him, trying to decide how to respond. He's probably the only person in the world that could say that to me and I would take it as a compliment.
Maybe, to put it in the words of my favorite Western 90's rockers, "I'm never going back to college, I'll just work my day job..."
~Normaltern.
P.S. I recently learned that the English translation for "rie de veau" is sweetbreads, meaning I have eaten veal pancreas on multiple occasions while in France, and I had no idea. Wow.
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