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Find a melody first (it's out there somewhere, or maybe buried deep within your head/heart), then let the words appear. If you write the words first and then try to fit music to it, it will sound like someone making a speech while a band tries to play in the background.
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I KEEP A ROOM AT THE HOSPITAL | [click to listen] | (she broke his heart in the very worst way and he apologised; he shouldered blame his narrow body wasn't built for)
i. visiting day - dead to me
ii. restless heart syndrome - green day
iii. accident prone - jawbreaker
iv. post break-up sex - the vaccines
v. what's wrong? - dead to me
vi. medicated - funeral for a friend
vii. (motor) way of life - lower than atlantis
viii. not in love - crystal castles ft. robert smith
ix. x-kid - green day
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(a near miss or a close call?
i keep a room at the hospital.
i scratch my accidents into the wall.
i couldn't wait to breathe your breath.)
black marble eyes, floppy tobacco-scented hair, a well worn sneaker flattening a cigarette butt. it could be any number of men anywhere in the world, but it's gus veitch outside a rehabilitation facility with shallow breaths and a knotted gut. he has jagged red lines across his ribs drawn by shaking hands, but they're old news, he's there to put a stop to destroying himself. but now it seems more impossible than it ever has before.
a woman arrives, well dressed, but ashen looking, and she's just visibly pregnant. she is his childhood sweetheart and fiance. they don't look at one another, nor speak to one another, and a nurse shows them to a stale, empty room with a couch where they can sit and talk. they sit and he buries his face in his hands for a few seconds. he speaks first.
"i don't hate you, so please don't hate yourself."
"you should."
"i can't. i can't."
"why?"
"because i love you."
she's looking away and crying, then he pulls her onto his lap and they're kissing. he feels guilty, like if he hadn't admitted himself to hospital she wouldn't have gotten so lonely, she wouldn't have cheated. but more than that, he hurts. he tells her that. she says it's not his fault, he needed to get help. he frowns, starts asking questions. suddenly he has become aware of how rough the upholstering on the chairs feels against the skin of his bare arm. the other is bandaged. she speaks, and everything is quiet and heavy.
"...in our bed?"
"...yes."
he sees her in his mind, balled up beneath the covers of their bed, lithe hands curled into tight fists around the sheets. he sees her embarrassed, feeling foolish, emotional, vulnerable, carrying his child. and he wasn't there for her.
"it's ok. i understand."
clumsy words, forced from his throat. the hot, heavy tear falling from his eye and splashing onto his knee says he's not ok, it's not ok, how could it be? her, carrying their child, in their bed with another man, their one year old son asleep next door. the betrayal, the guilt, the fear, the pain.
later, she'll tell him she can't do it anymore. he'll get his mom to pick up his son, he'll contact his solicitor, he'll busy himself with even the most mundane of tasks, and when he runs out of distractions he'll spin off the edge of sanity and crash to an earth shattering halt. his stomach will lurch, his hands will shake, his mind will keep screaming make it stop. it's a battle of wills; he just wants to disappear, the nurses want him alive. the hollow ache beneath his ribs will stay for months.
#balls#i told myself this wouldn't be long#but it's carried over from an old rp so there was a bit to cover#character: gus#yvrp#writing
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morning folks. work o'clock. thought maybe i should be super transparent and show my mug (i know there's an actual mug there, no pun intended) on my blog.
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angus. (that's your name, not mine. i'm gus. legally. and how fucking dare you sign that email 'dad'?)
first things first. i'm in no position to loan you money, i'm currently hospitalised and - not that you even know about it - i have a son to support. no wife, as you wrongly assumed. we were engaged, and she cheated while i was in here. in our house, with our son in the next room. i don't trust you enough to tell you why i've been hospitalised, so don't bother asking.
hopefully with that insight, you can understand why your email felt like a kick in the teeth. you disown your son as a kid and shoot him a message asking for support when he makes some money. do you have a conscience?
i'd appreciate it if you could leave me and the rest of the family alone. don't bother responding to this, and save your fucking pity. this is the only correspondence you'll be getting from me.
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Hey little kid Did you wake up late one day
And you’re not so young but you’re still dumb
And you’re numb to your old glory
But now it’s gone
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Inspiration: "consider this your thank you card". Go! (any for moi?)
nice! thanks for that, definitely got my brain ticking over."i'll make the first move and i'll say i'm sorry."
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not sure what to do with gus
should he be in a band or be a manager or perhaps even a guitar tech?
concerned that he's kinda too old to be in one of the bands, since they're all relatively recently formed. unless he started up a new one with other musicians like dave grohl and josh homme did with qotsa?
idek, opinions would be v helpful
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i really need some song writing inspiration so i've come up with an idea that goes something like this...
anonymously post anything in my ask that you think would be a cool theme for a song, it can be anything, but real life issues would obviously be best. i might even be able to give you some advice at the same time, win win right?
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young volcanoes is a jcink battle of the bands site coming very, very soon!
we spent today hammering out a lot of smaller details on the site, and if you get us one more follower, we’d be happy to share a preview with you.
http://yyoungvolcanoesrp.tumblr.com
http://yyoungvolcanoesrp.tumblr.com
http://yyoungvolcanoesrp.tumblr.com
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