Major thank-yous to the girls, Ellen and Isobel, for putting up with my conversation starters of “So what do you think I should do to Indifferent Ignorance?” and then disagreeing with them, and Pugsley for, well, being Pugsley. Also to everyone at Neraida for putting up with the girl in the corner huddling over her laptop, even in the midst of a flood. I don’t know whose idea it was to set up wireless Internet in the restaurant, but I owe you a tip. A large one.
Ruby, Advent is on its way.
Comments on the new look please?
Happy Halloween and twenty-ninth birthday, Frank (Iero. I’m not that old yet).
Once upon a time, there were three young girls named Francesca, Ellen and Elizabeth who shared, amongst other defining qualities, a deep love of a rock band named My Chemical Romance.
When this rock band decided to tour after two years absence from the rock and roll scene, the girls jumped at the chance to see them play live at the Hammersmith Apollo, London (well, two of them did. One needed gentle persuasion that if she didn’t see them now, they would have died before they next came to England). After trawling the Internet and various websites looking for tickets that were less than a hundred pounds, they – well, the one doing the Googling, Francesca – found a website called www.getmein.com.
Francesca phoned her friends and it was decided that they would each pay the extortionate amount of eighty-five pounds to see the band they so admired. The tickets were purchased from the website, but did not appear for several weeks. After many phone calls and stressed-out conversations, it emerged that the tickets resided at the Apollo box office. This meant that the girls would travel to London with only a slim hope that they weren’t being ripped off.
However, they made the long and perilous journey up the A127, playing Spot the White Person in London to pass the time. For the record, once they got into Hackney, the game was pointless. No one won. When the sat-nav directed them to their destination, the girls were amused to find a rather odd collection of people queuing up. There were girls dressed as pandas, girls with crosses over their eyes, girls obvious with insecurity complexes as they were wearing the whole of Boots’ makeup counter and a bottle of hairspray each. Also a man who was playing the oh-so-popular game How Many People Mistake Me For Gerard Way Then Realise I’m a Poser, and quite a lot of Killjoys.
After spending time in a slightly odd cafe that prompted the game Make Fun of the Polish and Russians When They Serve/Stare At Us, the girls and their chaperone, Laurence, made their way into a queue for the box office. Where this video was shot:
Thankfully, the group was allowed inside to collect their tickets eventually. Said tickets were, surprisingly, legitimate. Cue lots of shrieking, hugging, declarations of love for god, etc. Sadly, the people on the door weren’t in such a good mood and threw Elizabeth’s water in the bin.
Like they are a band are important enough to throw things at.
Time for this video:
After more queuing, for both the toilet and the merchandise stand, in which more money was handed over to various already-rich corporations, MCR took to the stage.
This was when the world exploded.
Gerard, with red hair and rips in his t-shirt, demanded that every man in the room took off his top and swung it around their head if it was their first My Chem show – thankfully Laurence refrained – during You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison. Frank only looked up from his confusing guitar pedals twice; once when Gerard talked to him and once when two girls took to the stage during Honey, This Mirror Isn’t Big Enough For the Two Of Us. One wore stripy trousers and the other had a two-foot (no exaggeration) blond mohawk. They were twins.
Mikey, hair dyed a newly apocalyptic shade of platinum, was glued to his, quote, “Rocket-shaped and shiny” bass and Ray actually didn’t stop playing. At all. Well, maybe when the twins attacked him with a ‘hug’. James Dewees, who played the keyboard, made his insanity public by wearing a jumper onstage and the drummer (who may or may not be a permanent addition to the group) seemed relatively talented. Well, they played songs from Bullets which hadn’t been played in five years – according to Gerard.
Here are the first twenty-five seconds of Welcome to the Black Parade. There are only twenty-five seconds because it was much more fun to mosh to the music than hold a camera – and no one needs to hear Francesca’s singing for five minutes. Plus, you know, you can’t see anything except strobe lights…
The show, unlike most other My Chem shows, didn’t end with Helena, but with a new one called The Kids From Yesterday (or something like that). There were the usual hits as well as maybe twelve other songs. Here is a well-recorded version of The Only Hope For Me Is You, where you can get an eyeful of the band’s outfits.
May it be noted that the nicest thing to hear (other than Mikey’s solo at the end) was Gerard saying, “Here’s to the next ten years of this band.” He frequently said other things too, but Elizabeth felt the need to talk over him and discuss how gay he sounded with Ellen.
Which was quite gay. Especially when he did the shirt thing. There will be a song about that up here soon.
Did you get to see them this weekend? Are you seeing them in Europe? Are you American and only going to see them when they tour your country?
Growing up with Lauren always wishing she’s a year older, I’ve never been too fussed about time passing – until recently.
Hurry up, Halloween! I want to get rid of the bad background and dodgy header, change everything on Twitter, unveil my rather-brilliant-if-I-may-say-so-myself plans for Indifferent Ignorance. I’m not going to give anything away until the 31st though. Not even if you promise me a signed copy of Danger Days hot off the press. Okay, maybe then. All I’m saying is, “Not black.” At all.
Well, a little bit. It’s a staple colour, or something…
Sort of makes it hard to think of things to write about, actually. I want everything new to be once everything’s all pretty. I could complain about something, I suppose. I am pretty good at it.
Forty minute lessons, then, for the half day. What?! As soon as I’d worked out where I was supposed to be going, and got there, we had half an hour to cram stuff about… I don’t even know. The day’s a blur. Although that, I’m told, is thanks to a migraine which I’ve had since Thursday.
I always thought a migraine was a fictional illness that came out of the wardrobe when it was hockey in PE.
I’m blogging today to celebrate a momentous occasion. It has never happened before where I currently live – seriously, I’m talking rarer than a blue moon.
My bedroom is neat. Tidy, almost. There are no more bits of junk on the floor, no piles of belongings that have been there so long I can no longer remember what lies at the bottom. Even my guitar picks are off the carpet. Amazing.
Admittedly, we only cleared up because Pugsley’s coming over tomorrow and there would be no room for her to sit; Fred had trouble fitting on my bed when he came in earlier, no doubt investigating the source of an unholy stench (which turned out to be my feet, as several people from today’s PE lesson can testify).
My latest idea for the blog has been purple, but I doubt it’ll happen. Have a look-see here and comment with any colour ideas. I’m planning something interesting for Advent and – if GCSE modules and mocks don’t kill me – possibly another video. That’s if I can get my hands on a WMA version of that Americano song.
Since today’s date reads 10/10/10, I thought I had better blog and make the most of it. After 2012, we’re going to have to find something else to get superstitious about, after all.
I don’t really have anything interesting or significant to say, other than I can now officially afford WordPress domains. Patience, children, and you shall see what wonderful things I have dreamed up for you all to enjoy.
Because it will be AWESOME. The wait will be even more worthwhile than the wait for Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys. Which will also be AWESOME. But because of some men in their thirties shredding guitars, not a girl in her teens typing politically incorrect rubbish.
The print’s a bit small to be seen from a stage, but I’m not likely to be on one any time soon, having a slight lack of band at the moment – so I think Frederina will be totally fine for now.
Changeover date, quite honestly, for most things about this blog is definitely Halloween, but I have no idea of the time… I’m coming back from Greece that day. But as far as I know the subscribed people will stay subscribed so will get an email.
In the mean time, if you arrive on here and the colours, themes and header have changed beyond recognition – don’t cry. It’s all part of the experimenting.
Bit like experimenting with your sexuality, but you have to leave the house for that.
Happy weekend, and please pleaseplease comment with ideas for II (as Isobel has affectionately named this site) and what I could write on here. I have plans, but you’re the ones I force to read this.
My minions and I (Isobel, Ellen, Elizabeth) have been in deep discussions over this, and between us we have worked out a game plan. Different colours, font, new writing, an actual reason to write on here instead of my previous idea of ‘I only say what everyone else thinks’.
I think the changeover should be Halloween. Do you think Halloween? Isobel does. So do I.
But it’s really all about the dudes reading this. SO COMMENT. AND SUBSCRIBE. NOW.