What A Song Could Do

June 2008

June 2008

June 18, 2008

Hey comrades, just checking in... (currently stealing wifi signal from the bus next door. Don't tell.)

Sunsets in California are amazing. hotness definitely sticking in. sound check's in a few. Just really stoked. Can't wait to perform and meet you all.

Is it possible to be hungry even after eating 2 boxes of pizza? i don't think will's gonna get pleased at me.

Ps; listen to 'Be yourself' by audioslave. Helps me fall asleep at night. Also makes you miss someone/something.

Dan x

*

It took me a while to realize that it doesn't take much to feel alive. You don't need to experience skydiving nor robbing a bank to feel the stomach-churning feel that you are alive. For example performing in front of a dozen, hundreds, thousands of people with your best friends are one of the most incredible feelings in the world.

I found myself being surrounded by people who I didn't think loved me for who I was. But they were just here. I couldn't still process the fact that these lovely people would come up to us and give us gifts and words of encouragement—that they love us and they have always been there for us ever since the beginning. I just wanted to hug them all.

At the end of the first day, I was proud of myself that I've met some of the bands we had been looking up to—some bands that we just met, some lads who know us. And then there was the strange feeling of I couldn't explain. I didn't realize I was unconsciously looking over the sea of people for something or someone.

And then there were my playful, deceiving eyes staring at people who were wearing a beanie—maybe someone who also have jet-black hair, and preferably wearing glasses. Then I realize what it was.

"Dude, stop." Will had slapped my cheek to get my attention.

"What?"

"He's been like that ever since this morning. Don't mind him," Joe replied, seeming unfazed while fixing his hair from his reflection on the bus' side mirror.

"I say love struck," Jacob commented.

I didn't try to say anything from their witty remarks.

I saw Hank a few times this afternoon, running back and forth from stages. He stayed with us backstage when we have performed. He seemed very excited. And I was glad he seemed to be enjoying this so far than me.

It was hot, summer, and California; everyone was sweating as hell. We tried as much being dehydrated as possible, but with Joe's constant bitching, we didn't have choice but to go to the Slip and Slide. So after having at least enough tries not to have a heat stroke, I was forced to walk around the festival grounds wet like a drowned puppy dog.

Everyone's eyes were at us—maybe thinking how much of a kid we were trapped inside an adult bodies. A few fans had approached us and made us autograph our album, a t-shirt or a paper; and it was hard doing it without getting them wet.

"Do you want a hug?" Joe asked this girl who was about seventeen, waiting for us with hopeful happy eyes.

"Dude, you're freaking her out. Stop." I punched his shoulder.

"Yeah, okay, okay, I'm sorry. Clearly you don't want water to get on your clothes, right?"

The girl nodded enthusiastically but remained fazed while gazing at Joe. "No. I don't mind."

"Ya sure?" he asked again.

But instead of answering, the girl immediately wrapped her arms it around Joe's wet chest, clinging on to him as if her life were depended on it even before he could say something. "Thank you, thank you!"