#708start

[islaisms-blog]

“ i think the real tragedy of today is that i’ve run out of eyeliner and my favorite metallica vinyl is scatched to shit. i can hardly get through the unforgiven without it skipping right through the guitar solo. ”

[gcwans-blog]

gowan had THIRTY MINUTES off for his dinner break, but after being surrounded by the smell of pizza for hours now .. well food didn’t exactly sound appetizing at the moment. instead he found himself perched atop a picnic table, nursing a cigarette between his lips. when they passed however, he removed it from his mouth and quirked an eyebrow upward. ‘ hey .. didn’t expect to see you here. ’

[wincnvs-blog]

cling ! the bell attached to the front door chimed, but the bright haired girl didn’t look up from her thin volume ( a copy of the old farmer’s almanac ; 1991 ) instead, simply repeating her standard intro -- with a few personal modifications. ‘ welcome to jack’s records ! let me know if you need help finding anything. unless you’re nicky, in which case, as i told you on the phone, no -- we’re still sold out of death certificate, and maybe you should leave it alone. ’

[gcwans-blog]

it was pure adrenaline — well, pure adrenaline in addition to the coaktail of cheap booze, dope, and whatever else the boy could find. the music was loud and he could feel the bass in his chest, reverberating among his bones, making him one with the chaos. he moved at high velocity, flinging himself into others, all sense of self preservation having died away a few shots ago. he crashed into others, throwing wild elbows, and being pushed back by the wall of bodies that surrounded the mosh pit. a sense that hadn’t died yet, was that of needing another drink. a moment later he pushed himself out of the throng and towards a tent that promised booze, fumbling for the cash he knew he had tucked in his front pocket. however as the air him ( the density of the pit had been too high to make breathing completely comfortable, let alone allow gowan to feel fresh air on his face ) he felt a strange cool sensation, only  to lick his lips and taste the familiar metallic tinge of blood. he frowned, furrowing his eyebrows, before stumbling slightly towards a familiar face, slurring out a question. ‘ ‘s it my lip or my nose ? ’