dion decibels


The night I met my lyrical hero, George Fucking Watsky.
Let me tell you guys about a magical night I had with two guys, one of which who lights my soul on fire each time I hear him speak.

A few years back, during the sweaty summer/fall of 2013, I was introduced to a poetic rapper by my boyfriend, who in turn was introduced to him by our dear friend @randomgenericuser.

This rapper is George Watsky, the “pale kid” on my right. Dion Decibels on my left.

You see, I had never known of him and his music didn’t start to reach out to me until the spring of the next year or so, when my life would decide to trip me up again and leave me staggering to find a cushion to break my fall.
I, and as any other die hard fan would say for that matter, survived through some debilitating life troubles with the help of his words and charisma. The flow of his rhymes and the beat of his music made me feel invincible and as though I could accomplish anything even on my worst days, it was truly food for my soul.
In the past years, his work would attach itself to every little part of me more and more, and whenever I’d hear him featured anywhere, even in another artist’s work, my heart would leap.

I had to meet him and tell like many other fans do, how much his work means to me. Even if he’s just working for shits and giggles.

June 24th, 2016.
That’s when his book tour would be next in the area closest to me. About 3 hours away, give or take the horrendous traffic I was bound to battle, and unknown streets I would get lost trying to navigate. But I was determined, nothing would stop me from going. (Even though some days I worried my car wouldn’t make it, I wouldn’t have enough gas or money, someone would need my car or my help, etc. etc. etc.)

Flash forward to day of, I had to lend my car the day before and wasn’t able to retrieve it until the day of the reading. My heart was ready to crack, I was sure I wouldn’t be able to make it like I so pessimistically predicted, but headed on my way anyways.
I arrived with only minutes to spare before the reading was completely over, praying to God I wouldn’t get pulled over the entire time from all the illegal moves I pulled hauling my ass there. Trying to find a parking spot bit me in the ass, and burned any time I had to hear Watsky read. Luckily he was still there, a guy holding Watsky’s book reassured me, turning to his friend with a look of pity for me at my extreme tardiness.
I entered and saw George as he was reducing the line person by person with a click of a camera and his wrist flicking away on whatever surface he was handed. After being unfortunately turned down for a meet and greet because despite having my copy of his book, a store’s gotta make profit, so I stuck and around hoping for the best that he has the patience for one more fan.

As I sat on the stage behind his table, I turned the pages of my poetry book hoping for some inspo to keep me from feeling awkward when I get kicked off, so I talked to the DJ, occasionally offering him some Japanese candy. We hit it off, making jokes, talking about music, George, my poetry book, the rude event director lady, and their travels. He introduces himself as Dion Decibels and I ask him to sign my copy of How to Ruin Everything.
Eventually, the numbers of fans dwindle down, and Dion sits with me as we wait, when I ask to spend the night hanging out with them. To my surprise, they both agree kindly, saying that it’s no problem and I seem like pretty cool company anyway and we head out.

We met up with 3 other really chill friends and head to Guisados for some Mexican food. I was embarrassed at not having any money but Dion was really sweet and generous and offered to pay for me. The whole event of the meal was filled with laughter and stuffed faces, as well as exhaustion, them at not having much of a break since the tour began and me at the lack of sleep. After watching them shed a few tears and runny noses from a super spicy pepper dish, we cleaned up and headed out. We stood for a bit, chatting some more, jamming to the music playing outside and dancing before parting ways with their friends and headed to our parking lots.

As we’re walking, George talks to Dion about some chisme that has been going on, and I’m over here making my classic “ohp awkward” face when he turns to me. (Are you? Are we? Is it really chisme time and you’re going to share it with me?!) He goes on about some shady business that a guy was starting about him, ‘You think you know someone.’ I reply, ‘That’s so shady.’ 'I don’t believe I’ve ever had anyone do something so shady to me before.’ He responds. Damn dude. I just got close and personal with this guy. (Can anyone say besties??)

We’re at the corner where we part ways when I stall and awkwardly ask that George sign my book. At the end of the day despite getting close and personal with them, I’m still a big fan after all. (You are just a person but I worship the ground you walk on. -insert 'le maos’-) George and Dion sign both my copy and my poetry book and we wish each other safe travels.
I’m about halfway down the block when I remembered that we never got a better picture and I run my ass back around the corner to them, panting awkwardly. We snap some shots and get in a few more hugs, Dion giving me another hug and a kiss on the cheek, commenting on how I’m such a sweet and pretty girl. I’m soaring on the clouds at this point, my face probably a very pink tomato. I walk back to my parking lot, regretting immensely not having parked in their lot, hop in my car and head home.

I finally got to meet my hero.
Not only meet but spend quality time with him, despite the exhaustion.
I look up my windshield and see the glorious moon as big as a 50 cent coin, my heart swelling with exuberance. My night, my week, my year has been made. The ENTIRE car ride home I’m singing to George Watsky, rapping to George Watsky, screaming at the top of my lungs, dancing in my seat, head banging, and punching my arms in the air to George Watsky.
3 whole hours and an empty tank later, high off the fumes of my most exhilarating night since I was shooting on a TV show, I laid my head in bed and went the fuck to sleep.

As a conscious fan, I can see myself from the outside. I’m probably annoying, a pain, a hassle to the people I admire.
Not ONCE did I feel that way with George and Dion. My friend warned me through all my excitement and all of my hype, that he hopes my experience lives up to my expectations, knowing full well that I might get disappointed. And honestly, I expected to be. Yet, as I first sat on that couch with Dion and George approached us, the intimidation I was anticipating melted away. He was human. He was tired, hungry, and really needed to take a piss. He had no problem with me tagging along and asked me why it was so difficult for me to get in to begin with, frustrated that the event coordinator hadn’t made him aware of the fact that they were only admitting people who were buying his book from their store that day. He took a picture with me, as tired as he was, and kept easy conversation. He was funny, silly, a total goofball naturally. I didn’t know what else I was expecting. A cold shoulder for one thing, and snub remarks as well, but he was none of that and always said 'No problem, sure thing.’ Really warm and humble.

To conclude this stupid long post, I just have to say that I have really fallen in love with how chill and crazy George Watsky is, Dion Decibels’ kind gentleness, and their overall humbleness. They’re definitely one of a kind, and much more than the image everyone sees. They’re some really rocking people, and silly as this seems, I see them as friends.
I hope with all my heart that I may get to spend more time with them and have some more really fun adventures with them.

Much love to @watskyblog and Dion ♡☆♡
-Sara with the red bow. I really wish I’d had some cash for one of your t-shirts.