Mom's been going thru some health issues that are troubling all of us but it seems especially me. She had a pretty serious seizure recently-- thankfully Marv was there and she didn't hurt herself very badly and could get to a doctor quickly. They weren't able to diagnose her with anything, just treat the injury. She's still going to try and go to the SF show in a couple weeks if doctors give her the ok. I hope it was just a fluke, or some freak reaction to a medication or something. I hope she can make it. We've both wanted her to see a show in person for ages now, it just hasn't lined up! And now she might be sick. But maybe not. --Marv and Anna and friends keep reminding me of the "maybe not" and I'm thankful for it. There ARE a lot of reasons people can have seizures. I can only pray her reason is one of the many less-serious reasons and keep going the best I know how.
It's made me feel better about the look I have right now, though, as silly as it sounds. The diamond stud really was a little much, she was right. She was right about a lot more serious things than that. She'd hate how frivolous I sound right now, but G-d, I don't know what the hell to think or do, I don't think there's anything I can do, and maybe there's nothing I NEED to anyway, maybe it is nothing, but maybe it isn't, and it's hard living with that 'til I know.
PS: One thing I'm glad of, unrelated: the solo Nate created for that song of ours is going to remain on there, intact!! For awhile it was up in the air whether it was going to be cut, either fully or just for a radio version single. But the song wouldn't make sense without the full solo-- and I still owed Nate something. Hopefully things can get better between all of us-- even Jeff and his... everything. At least enough to get along on the road!
The singles from this album have been doing better than *ANYTHING* we've ever done. Not sure what to take from that, exactly. It's a very different album from our last few; obviously somewhat theatrical and less shy about leaning into melodramatics when it would suit. Not to the levels of something silly like Meat Loaf/Steinmann or what-have-you, but a long way from the kinda groovy power pop thing we had going on with Greg. Something a little smoother, more soul than funk, more grandiose in certain ways-- to sound good in bigger/outdoor venues (since there's been more and more of those each year-- and I've had to adjust vocally to that, as well). But anyway, Walt and Phil have taken this recent success to mean "180 date tour". Christ. Like how the fuck am I supposed to recover day to day with that? The 160 date tour I debuted on was crazy enough. Oh, but we have to ~make hay while the sun's still shining~ (nevermind that if you overwork the guys making the hay they'll just pass out from heat stroke and no more hay for you!).
The rest of them don't seem nearly as phased as I am by it. Nate and Rory I'm the least surprised by-- they've been on the road since '73. It's routine at this point-- more than routine, it's their LIFE. They don't have to sing like I do, though. They have a lot less biological components to their instruments than I do. A lot more can go wrong, especially with that much wear and tear. Ugh. HOPEFULLY this will not be repeated again. In fact I myself might see to it that it doesn't. I'll likely be able to weather one of these just fine, but if this is the way it's going to be from here on out, that's suicide. Well, vocal suicide. I'm not in my twenties anymore, I'm only going to get older (perish the thought but it's true!), which means my cords'll get older too and need MORE maintainance, not less. Like, I'm not even smoking joints anymore. Which has admittedly been a little rough, on the mental side of things. But it's a needed sacrifice to keep my voice in top form, so I've managed, even if it's meant I've gotten less sleep. Anyway-- nothing I do will matter if the schedule itself runs me ragged.
I'm not sure what it'll mean for helping Benny-- whether all the dates'll help me reach/talk to more people (and talk w/the band more, as well) or whether they'll mean those people will be too busy to ever reach. Very much hoping it isn't the latter, and if it is, I'm suspicious. The grueling pace of it all might be in our favor in the long run if I play my cards right and agitate around it just so. He's counting on me, so I know I can.
Rehearsals going well, which I was admittedly a bit worried about because the songs from this album are a bit more involved arrangement-wise than some of our earlier tracks (benefits of Jeff being a theory-head!). More harmonizing, more vocal and lyrical counterpoints, more unique singing parts for the guys as a sort of chorus for me, etc. Found myself in a sort of conductor role for part of it, Sam and I dictating the tempo, me finding a good excuse to wave my hands around. Jeff's still not great vocally but I suppose he'll do. Spent a good amount of time ironing out certain phrases and sections he tended to go flat in to where I don't think it'll happen on stage. Interestingly he didn't seem too upset about it. Nervous, certainly, but not annoyed or angry with me.
"You're putting this kid through the ringer, huh, Jules?" Rory said at one point. First of all, he's married, so calling him "kid" is a bit silly (...unless that was the joke). Second of all, he of all people should know I want things as close to perfect as they can be. Critics can rake our albums over the coals all they like and they have but so many of them have had to admit our concerts are a tight ship and I want to keep it that way. The others have seen the results, too, and in past years contributed a great deal to rehearsals. So why be snide with me now? Especially since Jeff wasn't bothered. Ironing mistakes out now is better than having them bite us in the ass in the future-- my father was right about that, even if I resented him for it at the time.
And ugh, speaking of critics-- I only skim reviews of our stuff these days, but I found something recently that actually truly stung-- calling us, very snidely, "fitting rock for the Reagan era". Walt would consider that a compliment. He's trying his best to make that as true as fucking possible. I don't know how to do anything differently on my own, or if I can. But I don't want to have photo ops with Dianne Feinstein ("Oh, but she's a Democrat!" She has the fucking Confederate Flag flying above city hall, I don't care if she's the Queen of England) and I don't want to be associated with Ronald Reagan and I have made that known, tho that rarely seems to matter. Nate agrees with me, though (as does Sam, but he doesn't have much influence outside of being a vote in my favor should it come down to it-- still good to have), so that might actually help-- "Since when is playin' music about kissin' up with politicians??", he said, and much to my relief wasn't having it at all when Walt tried to convince him about the new ~era~ we're in that we have to ~fit in with~. I'm feeling good about forgiving him still.
PS: Jeff being the new guy has also meant that he can do little wrong in Walt's eyes. He's the one reason this album's our best selling yet, his aw-shucks interviewing style is something to be emulated, his shyness is endearing instead of inherently suspicious like mine was. AND he's a fucking musical genius whose parents sent him to Julliard, or whatever (him going to college is also fine, whereas ME having gone to college makes me pretentious and EXTRA-gay. ~Oh but he GRADUATED college, Jules, and he went to such a PRESTIGIOUS college too, are you just jealous that he succeeded at something you failed to do?~ UGH). He's ~soooo~ much of everything Walt wishes I was, apparently, but guess what? He can't fucking sing. All that money from daddy and that degree from his hoity-toity ~prestigious~ music school and he can't fucking sing. HA. (meanwhile, I can play a decent amount of piano myself and didn't have to fly across the country and pay g-d-knows-how-much for it. He should ask for his money back!)
Still not quite a club for Benny and I but a private pre-tour party for us and our crew friends! And again.... *almost* scratched the itch, but not quite! It scratched it one way, I guess-- I got to be fully myself (diamond stud included-- sometimes it's still okay to be a bit much~!) and he got to be fully himself, too. And it WAS wonderful very openly being his around the boys n' Marty-- I know I'll have fewer opportunities for things like that now. I guess I want that around my friends, too, for the same reasons (and also so they can all meet him and he can meet them!!).
Was less casual than I was for our house party: light makeup, new red silk shirt unbuttoned most of the way tucked into black jeans ripped like my fave clubbing pants already are but only one pocket instead of both, my nicest black leather heeled boots, gold jewelry (necklaces, bracelets, rings), some of the last drops of my old rose/incense oil combed thru my hair, extra dabs behind my ears. Not enough to waft around much, but enough for Ben to smell it when he kissed my neck or rested his head on my shoulder, and that's what I cared about. "G-ddamn, princess-boy, I didn't think you could look any more fine." (that and the way his eyes lit up when he saw me...) Ahhhh! I felt so shy about it at the time even though I obviously tried to look as good as I could for him. He also cleaned up amazingly... I'd never seen him in a button-down before and he looked SO hot because of course he did (and I told him that, too!!), had a quarter of the buttons unbuttoned w/a perfect amount of chest hair poking out, the sleeves rolled up just below the elbows, a few gold chains on, some rings... his nicest belt around his nicest denim (he says, and I believe him!), his nicest freshly-polished boots (believed that too!). We coordinated so well despite dressing seperately and we both burned down the house, I dare say!
Sex was unsurprisingly amazing, again, and this time I was a lot less submissive than I tend to be with him-- being around him as myself, being US around other people that we both like, for so long, made me want him so much, and it made me want to make it completely clear to him exactly how I wanted him. The assertiveness surprised him, but in a way he thankfully very much liked. I sat on his face forwards and backwards, rode him backwards and forwards, jacked off n' came on his chest-- and asked him to come to La Rosa with me after the tour while he was still hard inside me, not letting him move more than I wanted him to move, edging him my way. He uttered out a tired yes, and I asked him to repeat it louder n' clearer-- flipping some of his style back at him, really, but queened up. He gave me that to me and I licked/kissed the cum off his chest-- still not letting him move more than I wanted to, moving myself just enough to keep edging him, til I was done cleaning his chest with my tongue, and even then I held him still for awhile longer-- then told him to fuck me. And UGH did he ever.
G-D we were still both so hot from that, we made out and he squeezed/slapped my ass and thighs and he did it harder when I asked him to, and even when we were truly spent we couldn't get enough of each other, he kept kissing me and I'd smile into his lips and he'd kiss me again, and... wow. It was just all so perfect. He's so perfect. I really do love him. I know I shouldn't, again. It's even more dangerous to, now, as well, in multiple ways. But here I am anyway, and what can I do? Why is that always how it is, with me? But he understands me better than anyone. I feel like I understand him, too, and I love him the more I know him. We fit together SO well, literally and metaphorically. We move together like we belong together. People treat him so awfully still, it's so fucking stupid and terrible how racist this country is still, even people who really should know better. At the same time, I always feel safe around him and I so rarely feel truly safe around anyone, or even alone. If I tell anyone around the band about me-- REALLY about me, even the most painful shameful things-- it'll be him. Not yet-- but whenever we can truly be together.