The Orion Star

The Interview

Buried in this endless apathy

Covered in this seamless agony

Why get up? Just give in

This surrender is sinking in

--From the song Kill The Silence

Lyrics By: Orion Bauwens

"First of all I want to thank you so much for taking the time out of your busy schedule to come talk with me."

I flash my smile, the smile that makes my female fans (and probably some male) go weak in the knees. I don't know why. I'm rather unremarkable, with my dyed black hair (naturally brown, just a couple shades lighter than what I dye it) and my dark brown eyes. I've read that I'm "dorkish", and it's not a bad thing apparently.

How someone who dresses in black with a black leather jacket and sings about pain and death could be "dorkish" I'll never understand. But it is what it is. So long as they like me, I don't really care what they label me.

I guess it probably has something to do with the fact I wear contacts. I scratched my eye once and was photographed on my way to get coffee. With my eye scratched I couldn't wear contacts, so they caught me with thick black frames. I guess that picture solidified my charming dork status.

"You're welcome."

"Let's jump right in, shall we?"

"Sure."

I'm in an all white room, sitting on a leather chair. Between myself and the interviewer is a dark brown, polished coffee table (I opted for a bottle of water which sits there, a few sips gone). Off to the side is an office with huge glass pane windows--I can see people working. Behind me about fifteen feet away is the door with a metal bar which leads back down to the lobby. Beyond the lobby lies the industrial district this office is located in.

Gloria is standing off to the side. Per usual, she's pouring over her tablet. There's also some magazine people standing by her, but I honestly have no fucking clue who they are.

"What made you decide to come to the South finally? You've been on the scene for eight years now, and have been touring for six. Why now?"

I shrug. "I know I have fans down here so I felt bad I haven't been here yet."

She grins. "And how do you like Texas?"

"It's fucking hot." I clamp a hand over my mouth and laugh. "Sorry--am I not supposed to swear?"

She laughs too. "It's okay, we can edit it out. So how is this tour going?"

"Well! The other night--not last night, last night was a bit of a train wreck--but the night before that was one of my best performances I've had in my life."

She looks impressed. "Wow. And why is that?"

"I d'no. Sometimes it just happens and everything aligns, and it's great."

"How often does that happen?"

"Honestly? Not very. I mean, I think part of it is just the psyche of an artist. Any artist. We're a bunch of self-deprecating dweebs. We just think everything we do is garbage regardless if it is or not."

She laughs at that. "And do you feel like that when you write music too?"

"Oh yeah. I'm very rarely happy with what I write. I'll write something, tear it up, write it again, tear it up...then I convince myself I'm a talentless hack that shouldn't even be in the business."