(author's note: 1978 still contains a lot of the oldest writing of this fic, so in my opinion leaves something to be desired. I'm going to put most of it up here, but at some point it will likely get retooled or overhauled. i will also note when i ever skip an "entry" that was originally present in my word docs first draft, and summarize it if i feel later entries need that context. ok byeee)
Figured out a method to transport this and an extra couple notebooks (for music stuff, and also for plausible deniability reasons). Also realized I still don't have much clothing that really shouts "rock singer". Spent the rest of my saved up tour cash literally on that. Still bringing along a few embroidered tunic-type shirts from Tehran and Shiraz that I'd been gifted over the years because the patterns are so lovely and intricate. A lot of gifts like that from visits taken between times of chaos/strife over there. --I always assume I'd stick out like a sore thumb in Tehran or Shiraz or anywhere else there, and the trip to get there is RIDICULOUS and pricey, all those layovers, and I hate flying, and I don't know Farsi confidently enough to get by anyway, so the gifts are enough for me!
PS: Greg gave me a kiss on the lips for good luck on the tour ahead, and I returned it, of course. :) And he pulled me in by the waist, gripped it so nice and firm.... UGHHHHH we need to fuck. Just get it out of my system already!!
Ahhh finally time to write!
I've been especially thankful for Greg and for Nate during this tour experience, tho all the guys have been helpful (even Al, despite still not liking me for reasons I can't entirely figure out). I've had experience behind soundboards, I'd been the house singer at LR for a few years, I've obviously had the experience being with the crew last year, but I've never been in a band on a real tour before. The guys on the other hand have quite a bit of experience with it, and have been very gracious in showing me the ropes just like the crew was. There was a stupid very old part of me clinging to a very old fear-- a fear that isn't even my own, really, but one often projected onto me-- that I wouldn't be able to be around straight men in locker room/shower/etc scenarios without being assumed to be a pervert just by existing there with them (or, worse, that my body would betray me and I'd look like a pervert even if my mind wasn't there at all). This is all to say that it's been completely fine. It was hard not to get thrown back to high school in my mind at first; I zoned in on a single tile in the showers, wallowed in a familiar dread and hated myself until I remembered the hate I was feeling was a very teenage hate. That it's different, now. Gradually didn't need to remind myself so much, and the world got less and less small again.
On the other hand: Greg and I truly have not been able to find the time or space to get our fuck in, and I feel more and more like some animal in heat over it. My singing's the emotional equivalent of yowling (thankfully not literal equivalent!). I finally out and asked him today after a show; we were both tipsy, making out, kissing deeper and deeper, but with the desperation that comes with knowing we only have five minutes alone. He said it'll be whenever we get to our first hotel, so I'm hoping that's SOON! He was a little surprised by how into it all I was; I hope I didn't come on too strong... he seemed to find it funny more than anything, at least, at the time. (As for me, I had to adjust my pants a little and sit down for a few minutes to cool off...)
Oh, I've also been pocketing a souvenir for myself and one for Greg at each major stop. Sometimes also one for any of the other guys if it's something I know they'll get a kick out of. Ugh I'm so bad sometimes but I can't help myself. And hey, I'm still being nice in my own way.
PS: A lot of the time Greg'll slap my ass before and after shows and he does it just a little harder than the typical guy-friend-pat so it LOOKS like a sportsmanly thing but FEELS so hot. ...Could I get him to do that like he really means it while he fucks me? Or would that just scare him off. Maybe it'll come up organically! Ooh...
Another TV performance, this one... well. My first impulse is to call it disastrous but I don't think that's actually true. My voice was tired-- we did this between shows-- I have a little cold, we didn't get much time to warm up, it was harder to hit the higher notes/passages smoothly. So half of the first verse of the first song was a little flat and I cracked a note during the first chorus. It's so difficult to not let that kind of thing get to you when mistakes used to mean so much-- makes me think of my father before he completely ditched us; he was staying in this tiny apartment after the divorce and we had this equally tiny practice room we’d stay in for hours on end trying to iron every bad vocal habit out of me "so they wouldn't catch up to me later". But, as my high school track coach liked to say, thinking about mistakes in the moment only makes you make new ones. The rest of the little set wasn't nearly as bad; I was used to my limitations by then. I just don't like having new limitations. Even if they're temporary. --Maybe ESPECIALLY if they're temporary, because they're less predictable that way. At least I looked really cute. --Not that I want to use that as a crutch. But they put me in all white with gold jewelry and I actually got away with wearing eyeshadow...! Pretty prominently, even. And sparkly! So that part was fun, looking like an androgynous angel boy. ...A reject from the heavenly choir. --I just don't like the idea of half a flat verse of a song being broadcast over live television. Ugh. I might care less if my voice was more well-known, but-- it's not (yet)!
The last half of this entry is like a damn Emily Dickinson poem. –So many em dashes! I looked like I could've recited Dickinson in that shirt, honestly– well (more em dashes!!), maybe more Shelley. I wore it open, and it had these beautiful shining pearlish threads sewn into it so you bet your ass I took it from them. (I'll pay them back later if they actually notice or care. Oops. Honest mistake! Scooped it up with my things!)
It finally happened, and it was just as hot and wonderful as I dreamed it would be...! SO glad I've figured out a good timing and routine for keeping myself ready for things like this (I always want to bet on good luck! Well, for this kind of thing, anyway). We still can't afford separate rooms, and Greg was roomed with Al, but he's ALWAYS out the latest, so we knew we'd have plenty of time. We kissed so heavy, touched so heavy (I licked and kissed every inch of hair on his chest), crashed onto Al's bed, threw each others' clothes off, throbbed against each other, felt each other up, I sucked him for awhile; he fucked me nice n' deep missionary to start, but I'd wanted to ride him for MONTHS now, and kiss that chest of his some more (and cum on it), so that's what I did! Those eyes rolled upwards again in that same sexy way they did before when he finished, UGH, I came so much and so good so soon after seeing him like that. We stayed naked in bed for a little while longer, moaning n’ kissing.... part of me wished we could've just done a quick wash-up, then fallen asleep tangled up still smelling like sweat and sex[12]. It's been so long since I've done that.
He told me this was the most he'd done with another guy at once and I couldn't help but beam and feel like a million bucks. Also couldn't help but ask if he'd want to do it all again sometime (or even just some of it!). He didn't answer right away; threw his shirt on, lit a cigarette, puffed on it a few times, nodded his head in thought. Then looked back at me and said "...Fuck, it's still crazy, but yeah, I wouldn't mind at all." I said: well, it's the road, right? It's already crazy. He let out a little laugh while putting his jeans back on. "Yeah, yeah, you're right."
That was all the time we had left to linger. I had to wash up quick and throw my clothes back on to get back to my/Nate's room. He took one look at me and laughed. "Damn, brother, if I didn't know any better I'd say you got your first real piece o' road ass!!" More like Greg just got some, but I obviously didn't say that. He came over and laughed, hooked my head in a headlock and mussed my hair. "There'll be more where that first piece came from, trust me, dude! Besides playin' the music the ladies'r the best part of bein' out here!" He said when he let me go. If you say so!
PS: Nate stuffs his pants so obviously but I don't have the heart to tell him. Don't want it to be taken the wrong way, either, and it probably would, but-- there's well-endowed and there's obvious sock. Greg is smart and seasoned enough to not even try. He knows how to work with what he has, and as it turns out, he has-- to put it lightly-- something pretty damn nice.
[12]My nose right up in one of his pits, maybe… not like I wasn’t able to get some good whiffs and licks in while we fucked, so thankful he wasn’t ticklish there!, I knew he’d smell and taste amazing; I’m SO glad I was brave enough to ask him not to wash up beforehand and that he was sweet enough to listen.