Tourist - (B.U.)

Devil Like Me

Is the devil so bad if he cries in his sleep, while the earth turns-

I hummed the tune to the song as the vinyl record spun tirelessly around and around the silver bullet in the middle of the turntable.

My favorite song off of the album. Although I think the new record they're releasing might be arguably even more raw. More poetic. Better riffs.

And while the statement that the new album could be considered better than their first EP is an opinion, it is absolute fact that the band sounds even better live than in a recording studio.

The same can't be said for many artists anymore.

And I've seen more bands perform live than Brendon has spoken a profanity. Which is quite impressive.

And his kids learned to say, fuck you they don't, love you

"When should we leave?"

I lifted my head off of the colorfully woven rug that lay in the center of Mark's hardwood floored living room- although since his apartment was a studio I suppose it could be considered his bedroom as well- and checked the time on my wrist.

"Now- preferably. The party starts in ten minutes," I snickered knowing how flustered he would become at this.

I heard Mark gasp from somewhere across the room, and the sound of skin sliding into fabric became audible as he shimmied his way into a Levi jacket, his keys jingling as he scurried around.

"You've got to be kidding me, Elizabeth," he mumbled, jumping around the studio as he slid on his shoes with one hand and combed his hair with another. He only used my full name when he was stressed or frustrated. Oops.

Mark loved to be punctual and found it incredibly rude to be otherwise.

I didn't like comparing him to Brendon- Mark didn't like it either- but they were complete opposites.

Not just in the sense of time management, although Brendon does take the term being fashionably late to a new extreme, but also in their looks and mannerisms and interests.

Their juxtaposition was what I first found so alluring.

The only thing similar between the two of them was their passion for music and performance. Mark was also the lead singer in his own band. He often invited me to studio sessions to offer advice and guidance on any sound improvements or alterations to lyrics.

I think he had a crush on me because although I never was much help, he kept inviting me back.

I jumped up from my position on the floor and skipped my way across the apartment, sliding in my crew socks until I bumped gently into Mark's back, making him chuckle.

I slid my arms around his stomach as he desperately gazed at his musty, honey- colored hair in the mirror, brushing strands in and out of his eyes.

"Van will be late getting there anyway, you know how he's like," I muttered into his shoulder, batting my eyelashes as I peered at my reflection.

I would be much more attractive if people could only see me from my eyes up. Just blue eyes and dark eyebrows.

I fluttered my eyes more at the thought of this.