The horns went on an hour ago and every other piece of this costume has lost its argument. Manson's waiting at the Wiltern — tell me you'd make me even later.
The horns went on an hour ago and every other piece of this costume has lost its argument. Manson's waiting at the Wiltern — tell me you'd make me even later.
Coal Chamber at the House of Blues means Halloween needs a costume that can survive a pit, so the pumpkin and I are negotiating terms in the kitchen. The horns are non-negotiable — everything else is still up for debate. Weigh in before the carving gets away from me?
Starcrawler's doing Devil's Night at The Regent and sleep is officially a lost cause, so the counter and a cold drink are all I've got going. Everything else is on the floor. Come keep me up till doors?
Knocked Loose with Denzel Curry at the Shrine tonight and I can't sit still long enough to put anything on — windows down, bass rattling the whole car. Tell me you'd make me wait for doors.
Halloween Spookshow at the Whisky means the costume has to earn its keep, and this one's winning by a landslide. The thong's technically still an option — talk me out of it.
Audition tomorrow and these lines refuse to stick, so it's me, the couch, and page twelve until they do. The tee stopped pretending an hour ago. Quiz me?
My Chemical Romance does Black Parade front to back at the Bowl tonight, so the marching jacket came out of the closet and nothing else did. Cereal's still mine though — come earn a bite?
Chelsea Wolfe just hollowed me out at the Orpheum and I made it home still in my boots, keys in hand, one strap already surrendering. The whole apartment smells like incense and bad decisions. Come peel these off me?
Insomnia won and The Adicts are still a full day away, so the lamp stays on and the sheet barely does. Come tuck me in?
Whisky's handled, the Bowl's still ahead of me, and there's just enough gap to darken the eyeliner and lose the rest. Round two runs darker. Which shirt makes the cut?