ramblings of a madwoman
glam rocking through the 1970s...
David Bowie is all things that a rock God should be.
Adaptable, talented and amiguous in many ways. The only
thing he hasn't done is die young, too late for that now.
That's just fine with me; contrary to most, his talents
haven't diminished much with age. Edge maybe, but not
I want to be a rock star. I seem to go through these phases
over and over, I'll want to be a middle-class loser one
month, and the next I'll be bent on being an adored icon of
what we call rock n' roll. I can't decide whether I want to
be famous or not, so I guess I just won't try, knowing how
unlikely it is.
It's not like I want "people dying to sleep with me or to
steal my personal belongings" fame, I just really want to
be liked/hated and respected/feared by the masses. That's
fucking crazy, isn't it? I want to be important. Times like
this, nobody can figure out the point of their existance,
and to someone who's never experienced fame, it seems like
it may be a fullfilling expidition.
It's a general consensus, however, by those who are famous,
that being so can really suck ass. When people only know
you for your face and what you do rather than who you are,
that's gotta be uncool. Then again, I don't think a lot of
people really know me. A few do, not a ton. I don't hide
anything though, wouldn't be hard to decipher me.
So I've determined, just now, I don't really want to be
famous, but I want to rock out. I love being onstage,
always have. I love to sing, love to play bass. Becky and I
are collaborating right now on a piddly little project for
an expirimental EP. Have I mentioned this already? Meh, I
don't know. When done, it should be cool: a mix of rock,
emo, punk, goth and maybe even new-wave. Eclectic much?
Eh. Finals are coming out so my talking and writing-ness
isn't making a whole crapload of sense. Go team me!
Incubus-- A Certain Shade of Green