ceciliatan: (darons guitar)
( Oct. 27th, 2016 09:00 am)

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

I got through the show that night without too much trouble, but as I might have mentioned, doing three nights in a row can really be rough on the body and the band. At least all three of these were in the same venue so it wasn’t quite as tough as having to do the whole haul three nights in a row, but when I woke up Sunday at the crack of noon I was feeling worn out and tired.

Ziggy was there in bed with me, though, and I guess I had let my guard down or something because I was also horny as hell.

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Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

(Thanks to tip jar donations hitting $100 a few days ago here’s a Saturday bonus post! Remember, each time the total hits $100, it triggers an extra chapter!)

As turned out, Monday was a lot sooner than I might’ve hoped, meaning I had less than one day left to talk to Colin…and he didn’t seem to be home. Not in the basement. Not glued to his computer. Not in the back yard. Not doing pull ups.

Far as I knew Colin didn’t have a pager. Chris hadn’t heard him go out and didn’t know where he went.

Neither did Courtney, though she had a guess. “He’s been on again off again with a woman named Leah or Raya or something? Sometimes when he disappears he’s with her.”

“Okay, but how do I find him?”

She shrugged. “What time are we leaving tonight?”

“Seven, maybe?” I guess it was my job to set a time. “We can stop in Connecticut for dinner.”

“Is that Chris’s laundry in the dryer?”

“Think so.”

“I’m gonna get another one started in the washer,” she said. “Good luck finding Colin.”

Amazingly Courtney didn’t pry about why it was so urgent for me to talk to him. Maybe she already knew.

I ended up going into Colin’s room to look around, didn’t touch anything, then went down to the kitchen and realized that written on the white board, among the phone numbers for calling a local taxi, getting ice cream (or anything else) delivered, and our old landlord (because that’s how long it had been since anyone had erased a number from that board), was one that said “Reah.” Hm.

What the hell, I gave it a call. A woman answered. “Yeah?”

“Hi, I’m looking for Reah? Or, well, actually I’m looking for someone named Colin–”

“Who the hell is this?”

“I’m Colin’s roommate–” That seemed the least difficult word to use. “–Daron.”

“Oh. Hang on.”

There was the sound of muffling and then the rather loud noise that must’ve been the phone hitting a table or countertop.

I could hear voices very distantly. A minute or two went by.

Then another clatter as someone picked up the phone. It was a different woman’s voice this time, I think. “He’ll be home soon. Okay?”

“Okay, cool, thank you. Um, I’m hitting the road at seven–” I think she had hung up after “thank you” and I just slowly pressed the receiver back on the hook at my end, thinking what the fuck, whatever.

It was six-thirty when he came in, and I had already packed and was basically gnawing bits of black nail polish off my nails that were still left from Pride day. (I really needed to strip it off and reapply just the clear coat I put on the right hand to keep them strong.) His hair was hanging flat and he was in a white tank top, denim shorts, and flip flops. Still sexy as hell, by the way, just much much more “normal” looking than I was accustomed to seeing Colin, especially for leaving the house.

“Hey.” He sat down next to me on the couch and kicked the flip flops off.

“Hey. Whereya been?”

“Revere Beach. Took my ex’s kids there today.” He let out a long sigh. “The boy’s nine and the girl’s six and, god, kids are exhausting.”

“I…yeah.” I really didn’t know what to say to that and didn’t want to step into a potential minefield, of course.

“She really really wants to marry someone who’ll be a good dad to them,” Colin said. “Which is why we’re exes.”

I think I actually said something dopey like, “But you’d be a good dad.” As if I was any kind of judge of that kind of thing.

“I am really not looking to settle down into a two-point-five kid life,” Colin said.

“Wait, didn’t we have this conversation once before?”

“I think maybe we avoided this conversation once before,” Colin pressed on his arms and made white ovals in his sunburn. “Whoops. I forgot what going out in the daytime was like.”

“I have some stuff for that upstairs. Come on.” I had a tube of sunburn stuff that I’d used once after Pride but hadn’t bothered with since then. Makeup had actually protected me surprisingly well from sunburn that day but I’d gotten a bit of a burn on my shoulders where the straps of the wings had rubbed.

It wasn’t even a question of whether he was going to strip down so I could slather the stuff all over him while he sat on the lid of the toilet. That part was totally natural.

Talking about kids was not so natural to either of us, though. “But you went to take care of her kids anyway?”

“She called this morning, desperate, in tears. Promised the kids a day at the beach, having a migraine, her sister crapping out somehow, the usual.” He sighed. “It’s not just the kids with Reah, it’s everything is a drama or a crisis, which is fun for a short while when you’re passionately involved but gets real old real quick in the day-to-day.”

“So why’d you do it?”

“My mom was a single mom. I felt sorry for the kids. But she really has to get her act together and meet someone who can actually father them and provide, you know? Which I realize isn’t so easy when you’re in your late thirties and have obscenities tattooed all over your boobs. For some crazy reason, guys tend to treat her like total shit when they see that.”

“Punk guys?”

“Well, no, which is half the problem, although there are plenty of dirtbags in the scene, too, I guess.” he spat into the sink. “But I keep telling her if she keeps trying to meet a stock broker or a lawyer or something all she’s going to get is a steady stream of assholes who are going to use her like a whore and treat her like trash.” He sucked in a breath as a put a fresh cold dollop on the back of one lobsterine shoulder. “Then again, a lot of guys like me who will appreciate a middle-aged anarchist either hate kids or are not necessarily the best steady providers.”

“You’re an accountant,” I pointed out.

“And I’m a weirdo,” he said, as if we completely agreed on that point. “But I can’t solve her problems. I can’t be who she wants me to be, but she keeps trying to sucker me into trying.”

I hesitated a moment, because I didn’t want him to think I’d suckered him into a position where my argument would be especially compelling, but here it was. “Well, if you want to avoid the two-point-five-kids lifestyle, I have a gig in a road crew for you.”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. Been thinking about that.”

No reason to hold back now. “I talked to Ziggy about it last night. He really wants you to come along. Supposedly so if things melt down between him and me, you’ll be my safety net. Also Ziggy really likes surrounding himself with people he’s slept with.” I shrugged.

“Yeah, I can see that.” Colin pulled a clean undershirt on carefully, so as not to scrape any of his skin. “And you want me to go, too?”

“I do.” I still had some nagging worries but, well, one of the big things I was starting to realize at that point in my life was that if I let nagging worries rule my decisions I would never do anything.

He nodded. “Yeah, it seems like all the stars are aligning, doesn’t it.”

“If you mean I want you to go, Ziggy wants you to go, and you want to go, then yes.” Seemed really logical when I put it that way, eh?

Colin laughed and hugged me, wrapping me up in the cloying damp scent of moisturizing cream. “Yeah, it doesn’t make any sense for me not to go. I guess my only question is when you actually need me to show up.”

“You don’t have to come to New York tonight. But come when the band starts rehearsals again after I get off the road with Nomad. I’ll tell Carynne to start the paperwork.”

“Great. That’s a load off my mind.”

Then came a knock on the bathroom door. Courtney. “Are you guys actually fucking or is there some chance we might leave on time?”

“We’re not fucking,” Colin said and opened the door. “If you guys need to hit the road, don’t wait on me.”

“Yeah, we should head,” I said, and squeezed his hand. “I’ll be back to do laundry and re-pack in like two weeks and then I’m off again.” We had another quick hug and he patted me on the back. “Unless you want to tag along to New York?”

Colin laughed. “Not this time, rock star. See you in two weeks.”

ceciliatan: (darons guitar)
( May. 19th, 2016 09:00 am)

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

Trying to find the right moment to ask Colin whether he was coming with us to South America turned out to be more difficult than I expected. Eventually one day when Christian and I were engaging in the practice of moving iron around, I asked him about it.

“So I want to ask Colin whether he’s coming with us,” I said. “But I don’t want to seem like I’m pressuring him.”

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ceciliatan: (darons guitar)
( May. 17th, 2016 09:00 am)

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

The whole Boston-based crew–me, Carynne, Chris, Bart, Bradley, and Courtney–went north for the July 4th vacation week. Ziggy stayed in the city and said goodbye to me with an enthusiasm for the experience of being apart that I think I was finally starting to understand. Now that I was no longer terrified that while we were apart everything was automatically going to fall apart (although there were still some paranoid moments–this is me, after all), I could see the appeal of looking forward to a reunion. That makes sense, right?

Besides, we both had stuff to do.

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ceciliatan: (darons guitar)
( Mar. 10th, 2016 09:00 am)

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

Colin and I had the following very terse conversation after sex. I don’t know if the terseness demonstrates how well we knew each other at that point or that we were emotionally stunted.

Me: Something’s changed.
Him: Yeah. What, though?
Me: Dunno.
Him: Is that bad?
Me: Not sure.
Him: Not sure either.
Me: Should we back off?
Colin: Yeah, probably.

I was pretty sure we knew exactly what we meant, anyway.

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ceciliatan: (darons guitar)
( Mar. 5th, 2016 09:00 am)

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

(Thanks to donations in the Tip Jar topping $100 this week, voila, here’s a Saturday chapter! -ctan)

I’m trying to figure out how much to tell you about rehearsal. I mean, I think it’s kind of interesting but I’m pretty sure my descriptions of it probably aren’t. We settled into a routine where me, Bart, and Christian spent about six to eight hours a day working on stuff, about half of it prepping for the opening act set we were going to do and about half of it trying out rough arrangements I’d made of Ziggy’s songs.

That usually meant Chris and I worked out when I got up, we rehearsed all afternoon and early evening with a break in there for late lunch or early dinner depending how you wanted to count it. Then after we knocked off in the evening, that left time for us (sometimes all three of us, sometimes me and either Bart or Chris, sometimes with Courtney, sometimes with Colin…) to go catch a show in one of the clubs or a late movie.

And then after we’d come home, I’d go up to my room with my hair reeking of cigarette smoke and write music.

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Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

Fanworks challenge submission #2, by Chris, featuring Daron/Ziggy/Colin. Delicious.


Daron usually tells our story. Yes, it’s our story, not just his. We’re all in this together, even when we’re physically apart. When Daron told his fantasy about a three way with Colin, I don’t expect that he thought I’d read it. Well I did. Guess what? I think we’ve all had thoughts about what a three way between Daron, Colin and me would be like. What surprised me most about Daron’s fantasy…besides how freakin’ hot it was, and that he actually talked (eh…wrote) about it… was that it was totally different from how I’ve thought about what it would be like to have them both. And believe me, I have thought about it. You can’t be stuck in a rolling sardine can for weeks at a time and not fantasize about the hot guys right there in your face.

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Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

First of three submissions for the February Fanworks Challenge, with the theme of threesomes or moresomes. Enjoy!


Barrett was speaking. “OK, you get tomorrow off to take care of personal stuff. Get your partying done tonight, because tomorrow night you’re going to bed early. We leave the next morning for South America.”

We all looked at each other. Chris said, “Party!” We all yelled back, “Tonight!” I guess that settled it. Ziggy, Daron, Flip and I went out for dinner. We met the others back at the hotel and immediately got into an argument about what to do.

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ceciliatan: (darons guitar)
( May. 19th, 2015 10:00 am)

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

Then we had another day off. This time we went to Boston, where Carynne had cozied up to the Lyons brothers, so we were given the VIP treatment, by which I mean we had access to the VIP room at the Citi Club. I hadn’t quite realized it, but I guess Citi was trying to be like Limelight or Danceteria. I had never thought of Boston as having that kind of celebrity culture, or maybe it was just that I had never been treated like one there.

A whole bunch of our friends showed up and after carousing at the club until they kicked us out we ended up back at the Allston house, where a fairly epic party took place.

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ceciliatan: (darons guitar)
( Feb. 19th, 2015 10:00 am)

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

I shipped my clothes and two guitars ahead and carried two with me to Los Angeles. I couldn’t sleep the night before I left. It wasn’t really like there was any particular thing keeping me awake, either. I just had general jitters.

When I got tired of lying in bed I went down to the kitchen and made some warm milk–it was soy milk but I hoped it would work anyway–and paged through the latest issue of SPIN without really absorbing much of it. Glenn Danzig was on the cover and I realized I only had the vaguest idea what his music sounded like, but from the look of him and his band I could guess. There was a bit talking about a band called Soup Dragons. Based on their name and their look I really couldn’t guess what they sounded like, which was why they were “alternative.” Right?

About three in the morning Colin came downstairs. “Insomnia?” he asked, leaning his long, lean body in the kitchen door frame.

“Yeah.” I looked into my mug of now-cold soy milk.

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ceciliatan: (darons guitar)
( Jan. 15th, 2015 03:14 pm)

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

(Holy crow you guys, this is the 599th story post. Which means Tuesday will be the 600th post. To celebrate I’m going to do a video chat Tuesday from 9-10pm eastern time on my Youtube Live channel. Details on my blog: http://blog.ceciliatan.com/?p=2180 -ctan)

The next day was Christmas day. I wasn’t the only one who’d brought a guitar, of course. I made Alan start teaching me a song I didn’t know. This Nomad tour would be a little less “greatest hits” and a little more material from the most recent record than what we’d done in Japan. So there would be various numbers I’d need to learn.

Why is a song is called a number, when it doesn’t seem to have anything to do with numbering? I’m going to guess it goes back to vaudeville, but that’s as much as I know.

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Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

I went home. To Allston, I mean. But as I may or may not have established before, I’m terrible at being home. The problem with defining one’s self by what you DO instead of by where you’re FROM is that home becomes this really fraught concept…

Maybe I shouldn’t generalize. Maybe it’s only like that for me.

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ceciliatan: (darons guitar)
( May. 6th, 2014 09:00 am)

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

Of course, the other person I had yet to connect with, besides Ziggy, was Colin. When it comes to people who don’t change if you don’t see them for a while, I figured Colin would be one. And I was right about that, other than he’d gone bleach blond. When he came in the front door that afternoon he startled me. Which was only fair since I startled him just as much.

“Daron!” He jokingly put his hand on his heart as if he needed to recover from the scare. “When did you get home?”

“Couple of days ago. When did you get blond?”

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ceciliatan: (darons guitar)
( Nov. 19th, 2013 10:00 am)

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

(I was going to wait to post this next week, but I decided why make you wait? Colin fans, here is Colin’s story, which I read aloud during the anniversary chat on Saturday! Linked below, archived video of the chat, as well as one that links just to me reading Colin’s story alone! -ctan)

Warning: Graphic Language (Colin just couldn’t be censored!)

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ceciliatan: (darons guitar)
( Mar. 26th, 2013 10:00 am)

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

It’s probably going to come as no shock to any of you that in the back of that dark town car, Ziggy glued himself to me. This one wasn’t a stretch limo, just a Crown Vic, and I sat in the middle of the back seat with J. on one side and Zig on the other. When I say glued himself to me I mean physically. I petted his hair, thinking about what Tony had said about cats, and Ziggy purred, I swear.

That kept him calm and quiet while we rode uptown.

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