I would also like to add that Mike Kennedy, TWY’s drummer, is one of the nicest dudes ever.
Yesterday, Julie and I drove two hours to mix with kids in tank tops and t-shirts, sweat, tears, saliva, and bruises on each of us. We laid in our small hotel room that night and talked about the band that had made us want to stop being so fucking pathetic all the time, despite how much our throats burned from a night of screaming. These are the summer nights I won’t ever forget; where my best friend grabs my arm and pulls me across venues so I don’t fall into mosh pits, making friends with a boy named Erick who accidentally fell on stage and talked bullshit with us about All Time Low. Music will always be bigger than my skin, and although some of us have things underneath our skin and many things above it, none of it defines us. If your heart is crowned and golden, you will make it in this world—seeing your heroes and shaking their hands.
5.23.12
(Source: Flickr / bleedcolorsofeveningstars)
❝ This was one of the first songs written for Put Your Ghost To Rest, somewhere in the winter of 2004/2005. I remember sitting on my soon-to-be-girlfriend’s bed at the time and starting to play it really quietly while she was getting ready for us to go out, and I remember her stopping and being really still and then asking me what it was. It was and is one of my favorite songs I’ve written; I see it as sort of a corner turned. It starts with a drug deal and ends with a beginning, a shot at love. It’s on one level a song about writing, about growing dissatisfied with the sort of faux-salvation the fucked up artist person looks for in his art, telling the truth in song while being reckless, unfair and irresponsible in real life. This was a pretty messy and intense period of my life, and this song helped me start to bridge the gap between being honest in my work and making a concerted effort to be more accountable and honest in my day to day.
— Kevin Devine on “Just Stay” (via tapdance)
(Source: yay-consciousness, via fuckyeahkdev)
I forgive you.
I always just like seeing how notes my photographs have because I still don’t get why people like them.
But I’m glad they do.
(Source: youjustyou, via daisiesandmoonlight)
The building I live in feels like a hospital, the hallways filled to the brim with memories that aren’t quite there anymore and the floors quiet as the road outside of it. I am forever stuck inside of these walls, clawing my way to get anything done—any sort of motivation, any sort of freedom of expression. This is not where I belong. I am not supposed to be in this body, in this place, outside of my home. This is not the city I fell in love with in six days. This is not the person I want to wake up to be anymore. The windows never open enough to actually get a substantial amount of air, and the rooms are not big enough for sound to bounce off of to create an echo. This is not my Bat Cave, and my spirit is so sick of clawing to get out of my skin.
5.5.12
I am starting to realize that the demons behind my eyes are also the ones that are beginning to make me feel whole. There was a time when I tried to replace my darkness with a small patch of light, one that I found outside on the path that leads to the fields behind my dorm, but I quickly learned that there were ghosts in those woods as well. I cannot change who I am. I can only learn how to cope with things different, learn how to train my wolf’s mouth to only show forward when I need protection, to hide my mane unless I’m feeling desperate. I am slowly trying to cope with the music that pours out of my fingers and seeps out of my mouth some nights when all I can think about is drowning, and that saves me from drifting, just like the man in the moon did the night you were taken away. But my demons are different—they are a drilled in part of me. They have made their nests in my heart, body, and brain, whispering little words to me when I am alone for long weekends and there are blisters lining my fingers. And a part of me thinks that I will learn to realize that this is okay, and that one day I’ll look back on this from someplace way up high to realize that they weren’t really demons at all, but rather music, once again pulling me back to you.
4.8.12
