They all say that the road to success is a long dark road and a lonely one at that. Now, I can’t say that it’s completely true in my experience so far. At least, not at the middle.
The beginning is rough. It’s a question of your hardship, your want and greed…
Would you give up everything – and every bad scenario in where you have completely nothing to be true and real – whether you actually make it to your goal or not? Well, I think anyone sensible would walk away. I wasn’t. We weren’t. Perhaps it was because we were the young and the hopeful, despite this rigid path of torment. We saw Hell all around us. It was inside of us. Always with us since our birth and it wasn’t exactly vivid until we faced our own fate. It was… Crawling and aching and calling to us. Some days, we saw it and it was actually celestial in it’s peak of angst. It was our motivation. Our salvation to move forward, even if we weren’t going anywhere.
Of course, we made it to the middle with Lestat. He was our light to be these gods of the night, to be worshiped and start a revolution of two worlds. Music was one. His own rebellion was another. Even if it was a bit dangerous to an extreme, we didn’t care. We lived for danger. We coexisted with it and befriended it in many forms, in many situations, which were all of our independent doing. We could have given up on that Brat, but we didn’t. We were loyal as he was to us. We were too far down a path to the point there was no turning back. Even if there was – and trust me, there were plenty of times – we ignored it on purpose. Why? Because we loved him enough. We were a small insane family; practically ‘children’ to the immortal and our mentor of sorts.
We were the maniacs, the lunatics, the extreme fucktards that loved with a grit. And that was beautiful. Death was near and what did we do? We teased and teased and teased. God, the beauty…
Despite that desert; despite nearly loosing it all… After we did what we did best and we moved forward with what we knew, even if it was without Lestat. Thanks to what he saw, he gave us the world entire and the world visioned and embraced us with open arms. God, it was scary… But, it worked. We did it. We produced music for what seemed to be ages…
At this current moment, I don’t know if I’m in the middle anymore. I don’t know if I’m even a fourth there anymore. I just know that reality and existing makes me feel nostalgic almost, testing me to see how long I can make it in one piece before I get mad again.
Ha, perhaps I should re-start another rebellion. It wouldn’t hurt. The middle wouldn’t. Then again, that is what usually gets me go completely and utterly mad with idiocy.
I guess I’m not really in the middle. I’m not really in a beginning. For the sake of the mental apocalypse, I’m not even in a ending. Where I am is a sake of imagination, dreams, nightmares, and a vision of complete lust. I am a goddess without a throne because I don’t need one. I am a queen without a crown because I know what I want. Yet, I’m nothing with something that can make me all these things at once.
Truthfully, I’m just here. Outward looking in. Inside looking out. Truly, I’m just a paradox.
what is your memories of death valley with lestat? :o
Literally the most famous question of my life, but I somehow don’t get tired of it.
The memories of earlier that day were pretty exciting and dark, considering that weeks past Lestat knew that we were bound to get harmed one way or another. This is pretty much the reason for the original getaway car, which was an epic failure, as you should know if you read that section of his autobiography. But, that would be explained soon enough, in case you are too lazy to fetch the book.
So, skipping the day before and the early morning to getting backstage, we pretty much had to change to our stage attire, with our ironic fake fangs (me, Larry and Alex) and capes. Larry, older dork between us mortals, was documenting the whole thing backstage as we pretty much poked, pulled, covered, sat on, patted, and told inside jokes to Lestat. As for the stage performance, it was the most amazing three hours I have ever— Ah! I can’t complain since we all shared whiskey and Lestat turned completely witty and shit up there to the point it somehow made us laugh between songs. It was the biggest audience I have ever witnessed that were completely insane and worshiped us like gods… At least the ones that were there mainly for the music portion than the eventual Armageddon.
Once shit started to happen and Alex then said that the car was surrounded, I guess we were all somehow ready to fight and die or just run and then die. So, instinct led us to number two and when we got out, our security guards knew their job in keeping us, the mortals, safe. So, we went to safety by being pushed into a limo — without Lestat. I mean, I think if one of us got hurt or something happened, Lestat would go and cause his usual fit of devastation to the point he’d be on a rampage. But, luckily that didn’t happen and we’re all still here to this day. One thing I must say though that in my eyes, I think after that night and some days after, I had this paranoia to the point I shut down so I can’t remember what happened after I got in the limo. But, yeah. Those are my ‘memories’ that were pretty straight to the point.
❝Now I knew all that had been left out of the pages I had read about the rock singers — this mad marriage of the primitive and the scientific, this religious frenzy. We were in the ancient groove all right. We were all with the gods.❞ — Lestat