OCTOBER 8 - 12, 2005
There's a buzzing amongst the road crew. They're like little worker bees before winter. Finally, October. Brandon could inhale the thought like the first stinging breath of a Utah autumn.
Trepidation is in the air, though. At least there is for him. The thought of being home for the foreseeable future is equally titillating and anxiety-inducing. There's a thought nagging at him in the back of his head—one that's telling him that he doesn't know how to be stationary like that anymore. That the last two years have done something irreparable to him. Maybe being on the road for as long as they have killed something inside of him or worse yet, he changed.
However, there's no reason to dwell on it now. Even though the tour has done this to him, Brandon loves it. And come a month from now, he knows he will miss it.
They're back in California for Download and this time, they are at the top of the five-band billing. There are some old friends here, such as Modest Mouse, and even older ones like British Sea Power. They're in good company tonight as their dressing room is taken over as the party hub for the night. Outside, Arcade Fire's set is coming to a close and the road crew has to evacuate for a quick change-over.
Their friends in British Sea Power have been hanging out with them for most of the day and Brandon is currently determined to out-drink Hamilton. The band of Brits cheer him on as he calls for another round of shots, and Brandon swears he hears Ronnie say something but it's drowned out by all the commotion.
"It's fuckin' embarrassing and the worst part is if he finds out, he'll be pissed at us for letting it happen. As if we had anything to do with it."
"No, I know."
"If anything he should be thanking me when he's up if he remembers it at all. I told him to get his ass off the floor. Rolling around like a damn alligator, it's a miracle he didn't get tangled up in the mic cable and unplug something."
"I'm gonna talk to him about it. I just don't want to ruin the end of the tour. You know how he can get."
"I think you're right about him having issues. I didn't see it before, but the kid has a problem."
"He's twenty-four now, but I agree."
"Well, he was a baby when I met him, so he's always gonna be a kid to me."
Brandon burrows his head deeper into his pillow. He's not sure how he got into his bunk, but the white noise of the bus sends him back to sleep before he can worry about it too much.
The days are going by too fast. In actuality, the time has been passing with the same bullet-train speed as it always does on tour. Despite his perpetual sense of exhaustion, the fear of post-tour stagnation continues to pluck his mind.
Brandon has been resorting back to a mental pros and cons list for the past week. The list has been recited, added and subtracted to, and toiled over during a majority of his free moments.
Pros: a normal sleep schedule, no (or, at the very least, fewer) interviews, his own bed, reliable laundry services, his favorite takeout spots, unrestricted time with Ronnie, lack of public attention. Cons: writing an album that holds up to Hot Fuss, boredom, and lack of public attention.
When he thinks about this list rationally, Brandon feels foolish to consider that those measly cons somehow outweigh the rest and comfort of the pros. He knows that whatever he's feeling is deeper than a fear of boredom or writer's block; that "whatever", though, just feels so hard to understand.
YOU ARE READING
Hopeless Haze - Volume I: Hot Fuss (Remastered)
Romantik"If Brandon cared, he would wonder if Ronnie was also deep in thought about something and has only just absentmindedly found something for his hands to play with. But as Ronnie runs his fingers through his hair, Brandon finds that he does not care a...
