A fox lies in a field, as the sun becomes abrasive
Too weak to move
Too weak to want
The field grows as time passes
Higher and higher
Until the fox is finally free from the shackles of the light
The sun sets,
taking its time to peak through the tress in the distance
As the fox rises time begins to slow
And it sees the beauty of another day passing
Strong, with the assuredness that the sun will no longer suppress it
The fox runs freely to the trees in the distance.
Proud, in his conquer of another day
But the fox doesn’t know
That the sun is always on the horizon
And dawn breaks
Regardless of the hopes of foxes
Anonymous said: as long as there are fresh young bodies willing to throw themselves into the meat grinder of being a touring band for a few years with little in return besides the opportunity to yell and play guitars at a room full of strangers and eat shitty vegan food, the price of hardcore shows isnt going to change. outside of jam bands and edm (and maybe juggalos), there's no genre that depends on the live show as much as hardcore. you'd think people would learn to put more value on it.
This is actually the only part of this whole ‘pay hardcore bands fairly’ conversation that upsets me. Like, sad upset.
You’re right. To most hardcore kids, bands are interchangeable. [Until they go to grad school and don’t have time to keep up on music. Then it’s “I really want to like these new bands, but there’s just no one doing it the way _______ did.”] As long as there’s always a band to fill the void, the quality of the band doesn’t matter and the quality of that bandmembers’ lives sure as shit does not matter.
As a dude who is really into music, this idea just sucks. It’s like people who replace their dog with another the day after the animal dies. Or, people who get new partners in a week. It illustrates that the role was the crucial thing, not the individual. When people do that with bands, it gives me the same creeped out feeling I get whenever the individual is undervalued.
the year I would’ve been a college graduate.
the year I may have finally left home
the year I may have stopped wasting my talents
the year I may have discovered those talents
the year I may have made something of myself
the year I may have become sober
the year I may have found my passion
the year I may have found happiness
the year I may have found a job worthwhile
the year I may have found peace
the year I may have spent with those I love and miss
the year I may have done nothing
the year my best friend joined me across the country
the year I lost a love I’d never known
the year I solidified my stake in a job that I hate
the year my depression returned
the year I learned more than I’d like to know about life
the year of hating anyone physically fit
the year of immense revulsion
the year of back pains neck pains liver pains stomach pains head pains
the year of sulking on her windowsill
the year I quit smoking
the year I started smoking again
the year I started hating myself as much as I hate everything else.
the year I turn twenty two
the year I lose myself
the year I promised would be better
the year I promised her would be better
the year of lying awake late at night while cats fight outside my window
the year of buying a bottle of whiskey nightly
the year of avoiding problems
the year of refusing to be better
the year of feeling sorry for myself
the year of bad poems
the year of unfinished projects
the year of misery
and the year of death.
the year I may decide who exactly it is that I am.
the station reeks of bleach
making me light headed
it’s not a clean, sterile smell
but more the aftermath of a large mess
that never quite came clean
downstairs a girl stares at me with bugged out eyes
she reminds me of several ex lovers at once
the stench still lingers
it seems it will never leave
My lifestyle is my retirement plan.