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Post by ROXANNA JANE MOXIE, on Jan 3, 2012 0:30:50 GMT -5
For once, the backstage was more dead than a boys 2 men show, and there wasn't a soul in sight. Of course, who was up at this ungodly hour of 6am, dicking around backstage when the first performance wasn't for another 15 hours and setup wouldn't start for at least half that? Well, Roxie could definitely NOT say that she didn't miss the familiar musty smell of rooms that hadn't been used for anything good in years, the gaudy leather furniture and lightbulb-surrounded mirrors looking exactly like they'd come out of one of those generic teen-band shows. They weren't teeny-boppers, what the hell was this all about?
But after waking up at 5am to go for a jog, then grabbing a coffee at an early opening cafe, she couldn't find anything better to do and definitely couldn't go back to sleep. So Roxie grabbed her pack of cigarettes, grabbed an oddly trendy winter jacket and set out again from the tour busses to reacquaint herself with the backrooms.
It had been awhile since Roxie had been in the spotlight. Dressing like a hooker and deejaying for mega popular and highly controversial Barbie the Dyke had been something that kept the fans crawling on her doorstep, but after several vacations and disappearing off the map, the fame had faded for awhile. Oh yeah, she missed it. But she missed the experience more. She would enjoy flexing her fist over the other little girls of the tour and seeing how everyone couldn't help but quiver just a little bit at the fiery temper in her eyes.
With a grin she lit a cigarette, let her arm drape over the back of the couch, and soaked in the familiar nostagia.
 ( TAG ) whoever ( WORDS ) 407 ( OUTFIT ) click!( MUSIC ) Across the Ocean by Our Last Night ( MOOD ) bored ( CREDIT ) by SELF RIGHTEOUS SUICIDE. at caution. banner to _____. |
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Post by gabbie on Jan 3, 2012 21:10:34 GMT -5
------------------------------------------------- Sleep was just another one of those things that didn’t come quite as easily anymore. Ever since the tour began, Marilyn would lie in her bunk on the bus, eyes wide open, mind cycling and spinning with the energy of the day. Night was always the worst. She always felt her lowest then, when she could fully process the day; the number of times she purged (failure), the number of times she cut (failure), all her mistakes onstage (failure), how even the simplest of tasks like sleeping was so impossible now (failure). No number of sheep counted could induce a sleep, and if she managed to drift off (which she luckily usually did), she would wake up in the middle of the night and the process would start all over.
Tonight, though she had successfully managed to fall asleep after dissecting her every move on stage and stressing over the sheer enormity in the number of shows before her, she’d woken suddenly awake at four a.m. with no peace in sight. At first it wasn’t too bad, she woke and then drifted a little, but she was conscious of every single movement around her. When Roxie woke up for a jog at five, Marilyn couldn’t help but wake up as well. She wasn’t the jogging type, though; she’d opted to attempt to call her ex-boyfriend just to leave a message saying hi (how pathetic, she reminded herself). Then, at that point she was mostly up, so she pulled on a pair of ratty black leggings, a cut-off sleeved black tee shirt, a giant black sweatshirt, a yellow beanie, and her old gray vans. At least in this dingy get-up she figured she wouldn’t be as easily recognized. She considered trying to find anyone that dealt weed—not for recreationally use, but just because she wanted to get sleepy—but then remembered it was still early in the morning.
So instead she chose to wander around aimlessly. In town, she walked the streets, staring at buildings, commiting them to memory. Eventually, though, this bored her, and she knew if she walked too far she wouldn’t remember her way back. Retracing her steps, she made her way to the venue and chose to pace around there instead, ultimately landing backstage. Her nose was first greeted by that musty smell, but then something else wafted towards her… the familiar and all-too-enticing odor of a just-lit cigarette. Immediately she had the urge to run out; her head wasn’t in the right place to be interacting with others right now. But that cigarette… fuck, they probably had a pack. And she wanted one… so she followed the scent, which was easy enough, to find Roxie draped over a couch. At least this social interaction wouldn’t be too awkward; Roxie was in her band, after all, and she didn’t feel bad asking her for anything.
“Mind if I bum a boag?” ------------------------------------------------- words: 485 fun fact: I once got stuck watching boys2men twice at Bamboozle, waiting for Dev and Taylor Gang...audience surprisingly not dead, though I think most people were conned into it like me, waiting for someone else, not realizing someone let boys2men play... |
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Post by ROXANNA JANE MOXIE, on Jan 4, 2012 17:36:39 GMT -5
Working on this, justg didn't want you to think i'd forgotten about you! :]]
( TAG ) whoever ( WORDS ) 407 ( OUTFIT ) click!( MUSIC ) Across the Ocean by Our Last Night ( MOOD ) bored ( CREDIT ) by SELF RIGHTEOUS SUICIDE. at caution. banner to _____. |
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Post by ROXANNA JANE MOXIE, on Jan 4, 2012 21:01:55 GMT -5
Being in the wake of the return-to-tour party the night before, Roxie figured that nobody would dare drag themselves out of bed before the godly hour of noon. So when she heard footsteps echoing off the rafters, Roxie figured it was either a ghost or some crazed fan trying to get a peek at the venue. Either way she continued puffing away on her cigarette and doting over her omniprescence.
However, when the footsteps came closer and actually sounded dutiful, Roxie's ears perked up. The steps finally rounded the corner and materialized in the doorway as Marilyn, one of the newer additions to Barbie the Dyke. Roxie, who hadn't really had a chance to talk in depth to the girl, nodded when she inquired about a cigarette and flicked one smartly across the room.
"They're menthol. And mad inexpensive at that," she replied, raising a cunningly arched eyebrow. "What the hell brings you out here at this ridiculous hour?"
Roxie, for once in her life, was actually genuinely interested. Although she hadn't taken note of anyone at the party last night (or at least hadn't remembered, she and Finn were running around drunk), she was pretty surprised that she wasn't the only one up. It seemed like even on days when everyone WASN'T hungover, it was a chore getting anyone out of bed before 10
( TAG ) Marilyn ( WORDS ) 351 ( OUTFIT ) click!( MUSIC ) Piano Tune by Bar 9 ( MOOD ) intrigued ( CREDIT ) by SELF RIGHTEOUS SUICIDE. at caution. banner to _____. |
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Post by gabbie on Jan 7, 2012 22:52:33 GMT -5
------------------------------------------------- Marilyn caught the cigarette with her outstretched hand easily. Fishing around in her pockets, she found a little yellow Bic lighter (along with some mixed change and a condom) and pulled it out. Placing the cigarette between her lips, she cupped her hand, lit it, and took an immediate deep breath in. The smoke hit her lungs beautifully, filled them up until she exhaled sharply. Smoke danced inf ront of her eyes, blue-gray plumes rising up clouding the empty room. Again she breathed in, and then out, just for a few more moments, savoring the buzz of the nicotine and the feeling of relaxation that came with.
She faced Roxie, who questioned her and arched an eyebrow. Marilyn smiled. Of course Roxie was shocked that she was up; who wouldn’t be? In theory –and in the past—right now Marilyn would be sound asleep in her bunk… or someone else’s… barely lifting her pounding, hungover head until noontime when she would shuffle out like the rest of the rockstars, sporting sunglasses regardless of the weather and pulling out their respective brands of cigarettes, or bumming, puffing away while practicing. Marilyn’s behavior was completely abnormal; in fact, Marilyn was worried that she’d already revealed too much about herself to Roxie right now. She felt that desperate urge, a tugging deep in the pit of her stomach, animalistic and childish, to run out. But Roxie was her deejay, for fuck’s sake. No amount of running could keep her away. And anyways, Roxie couldn’t figure out that Marilyn was depressed just by the fact that she was up.
So Marilyn focused back in on Roxie. She looked so graceful and gorgeous, poised with a cigarette in hand. When she’d first met Roxie, Marilyn had been completely startled by those eyes… Roxie’s eyes were huge. Insanely so. She had a lot of the same qualities as the other girls, could wear the same clothes just as skanky or whatever, but those eyes made her different in some weird sense. Anyways, Marilyn shook that thought out of her head and tried to remember what she was going to say, or what the question even was.
“Love menthol,” she replied, pausing only to take a drag, “They supposedly kill you faster and make you more addictive or some shit like that. And who doesn’t like cheap death? As far as the sleep thing, I don’t get much, which is why I’m here. Partially your fault for waking up at five and making me feel guilty about keeping my lazy ass in bed. Been up for a while now. Since when do rockstar deejays wake up at five in the morning, anyways?”
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Post by ROXANNA JANE MOXIE, on Jan 9, 2012 2:57:17 GMT -5
As Marilyn sucked the smoke into her lungs a huge wave of relief seemed to wash through the girl, but Roxie didn't say anything. Everyone on this tour had their demons, and it wasn't Roxie's business to pry. Nobody was really up at this hour for some healthy reason. Hell, even Calico, the healthiest, most sane person on this tour (as far as most people were aware of) even had some unwanted ghosts filling up the empty spaces in his useful head.
“Love menthol. They supposedly kill you faster and make you more addictive or some shit like that. And who doesn’t like cheap death? she replied, and Roxie nodded with a musing smile.
"Cheap and sleazy is the way we like to do things around here. We probably shouldn't change any traditions." she replied with a nod, as if someone had described some interesting weather pattern.
There was a short, distracted moment during which Marilyn sat transfixed on her for a moment, her eyes trained on Roxie's, which narrowed ever so slightly out of intrigue. She was used to people staring for all sorts of different reasons: the fact that she was half naked on stage, or high as fuck, or ripping off Haylee's clothes, or even out of fear. The wheels were turning in Marilyn's head, but Roxie was patient, so she waited for the words to form themselves into the answer for Roxie's original question.
"Partially your fault for waking up at five and making me feel guilty about keeping my lazy ass in bed. Been up for a while now. Since when do rockstar deejays wake up at five in the morning, anyways?”
A frown tugged ever so slightly at the corner of Roxie's mouth, but hopefully the cigarette hanging onto her lips hid it. It was becoming more and more natural for her to say that it was merely her new fitness routine that woke her at ridiculous hours. But Roxie always knew that it was the images of Brodee lingering on the edge of her dreams that made her want to stay asleep for as small of an amount as humanly possible. The ecstasy helped, it kept her happy and awake for days, but mornings were always the worst. Her body woke sober, drug shocked and worst of all- alone. So Roxie replied with the most reasonable answer.
"Sleep is something that I try not to do too much of." she answered easily, taking the final drag of her cigarette before lazily putting it out in the ash tray next to her. Backstage wasn't trashed yet, and she didn't mind keeping it that way as long as possible. Roxie wasn't inconsiderate- just a bitch. "They say you sleep away a third of your life, and I'd like to get that fraction to at least under a quarter if possible."
She pushed another fond image of her dark-haired, drumstick and temper wielding insomnia from her brain and threw an arm over the back of the couch. Might as well get comfortable since she didn't have any other plans. Made her wonder if Marilyn had any.
"Deejaying is much less of a demanding chore than singing is. I feel like you should be preparing for a cover shoot or something," she chuckled, tracing her fingers along the upholstry of the couch. "I thought you would have already gotten bored by now."
( TAG ) Marilyn ( WORDS ) 704 ( OUTFIT ) click!( MUSIC ) Possession by Evans Blue ( MOOD ) bitter ( CREDIT ) by SELF RIGHTEOUS SUICIDE. at caution. banner to _____. |
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Post by gabbie on Jan 10, 2012 21:34:41 GMT -5
------------------------------------------------- Marilyn kept her watchful, brown eyes glued to Roxie. The cigarette had given her a sort of focus and clarity; all she needed now was a steaming mug of coffee to go with and fully wake her up. At one moment, after she spoke, she thought she saw a frown drag down the corners of Roxie's mouth, but it was gone as quick as it might've appeared. Anyway, even if Roxie was keeping secrets, Marilyn tried not to pry. They weren't very close, even though they were bandmates; and in addition, Marilyn knew a lot about keeping secrets. Oftentimes people would pry into her life-- a frown on her face; scars crisscrossing her wrists, red vines twisting up her arms; that inevitable trip to the bathroom (usually accompanied by Haylee-Rae) post-meal-- and Marilyn knew how annoying that could be. Secrets were kept so for a reason, and usually they came with a trade of information. After all, she held a lot of things back from Roxie... why shouldn't she expect the same?
Roxie threw her arm over the couch, lounging, and Marilyn became very wary of her own movements. In response, she leaned back a little, slouching comfortably with her cigarette in hand. "Deejaying is much less of a demanding chore than singing is. I feel like you should be preparing for a cover shoot or something," Roxie laughed, "I thought you would have already gotten bored by now."
Marilyn shook her head immediately, a smile pulling her mouth upwards just ever-so-slightly. Roxie was hard to read. Marilyn wasn't sure if it was more sarcasm in a mean way or in a joking sense, but she accepted it as the latter, regardless. Luckily, for a singer, Marilyn was no diva. In some sense of the word she was, she supposed. Before shows she needed quiet time to unwind and focus, definitely, but mostly she was chill. It perhaps had something to do with singing back up and playing guitar; Haylee-Rae took center stage and removed a lot of pressure off of Marilyn.
"Nah, never bored. And I'm not 'cover shoot material' anyways," Marilyn slipped a grin, "I'm more chill. The only thing I can think about now is now, and maybe a cup of coffee or a nice wake-n-bake weed-type deal. Not that I actually have any of either."
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Post by ROXANNA JANE MOXIE, on Jan 19, 2012 16:40:50 GMT -5
Roxie noticed Marilyn finally settle into a more comfortable position, and the air in the room seemed to thin out as a result. Whether this sudden relaxation was forced or natural, Roxie was slightly pleased that she still had her power to inadvertently make people alter their moods and behaviors. It wasn't that she did it to control anyone, she did it to make sure she was in control. Roxie was never one to be in control of herself, so she always tried to control the energy and the situation.
Marilyn stated something about not being cover shoot material, but Roxie chose not to disagree. The most difficult thing in the entire world was trying to convince someone that they were more than they gave themselves credit for, and Roxier was not in the mood to make the effort currently. Her cocktail of assorted drugs was starting to kick in, dulling her eyes and making her retreat into herself. She was pretty good at covering it up, but it always showed in her eyes.
"I'm more chill. The only thing I can think about now is now, and maybe a cup of coffee or a nice wake-n-bake weed-type deal. Not that I actually have any of either." she said with a slight smile, continuing. Roxie returned the smile and slipped a hand into her pocket. On top of her cocktail, she got medicinal marijuana. Not that she couldn't get better weed anytime she wanted, but something about having it handed to her and being able to carry it around made her feel a little better.
"Well I already got my coffee, but I can certainly help with the latter," she said serenely, setting her bag on the table and pulling out a swick of papers. Slowly, gracefully, she began to roll a joint as she spoke. "Besides, if we're not treating ourselves with drugs, that would mean that we were sane. And by tour standards if we're sane, there's something terribly wrong with us."
With a light chuckle to herself she licked the papers and finished rolling the joint, handing it to Marilyn automatically.
"It's a bit early for my drug of choice, that and I don't think it would particularly mix with the.... remedies I've already ingested." Roxie stated, picking her words with careful sarcasm. She hated the drugs, but she was forced to take them. That and they took away the pain- a dark bullet hole still glared above her belly button.
( TAG ) Marilyn ( WORDS ) 544 ( OUTFIT ) click!( MUSIC ) Here We Are by Breaking Benjamin ( NOTE ) SORRY IT'S SO LATE!!! :[[[ ( CREDIT ) by SELF RIGHTEOUS SUICIDE. at caution. banner to _____. |
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