I wish some songs would write themselves. OH WAIT, THAT DID. #organ #lowrey #emajor #kiss #superTroopers #armBurns
#villageBlastingClub tackling the shit out of a #Samba. Now its time for a #serbianMarch. So siq. #brass #brassMusic #liveMusic #localBands #phoenix #tempe (at The Lost Leaf)
Tonight at #LostLeaf. #manHands #burningPalms #tkAndTheIrresistibles #chinaUSA Starts about 9! #phx #dtphx #5thSt #2xPntrtn #rubberbrother #rubberbrotherrecords #rainydayshow #tits #grassIsAlwaysGreenerInYourBong #yolo #thankYouBasedGod #hungerGames art by Emily. (at The Lost Leaf)
It took me a long ass time to try and find this post. It was pretty ridiculous.
This is now my ‘infamous’ rape blog. I remember the time-ish of it’s writing. I was drinking a lot. Shit sucked. Like, there was just nothing good going on.
With how much I have been hearing people talk about this, I was expecting this to be way worse. But, after re-reading this… really?
I hear that, based solely from reading this, that I forced myself upon this girl and did the unspeakable. I didn’t and I’m not quite sure how you even get that from this.
So, because one person has interpreted still story as such, I have slowly lost contact with many people. People I use to consider friends, family, as close as blood. People I’ve been friends with for almost ten years. People I’ve spent months being in bands with and gone on tour with. Neighbors. People who I’ve help move. People whose music I enjoyed watching when they would play around town. People I’ve worked with.
And honestly, I am pretty tired of it. I know I don’t deserve to be called a rapist. I shouldn’t have to worry about getting a text about how some band called my band “tk and the Rapists”. All these people, who I thought I was fairly close to, at any level, would rather listen to and believe gossip- not go and look for this supposed post, not come talk to me about it, because if you knew me, I feel like the idea of me being a rapist would be impossible. Cause I know too, that when some of my other friends, people I have not even known a year yet, are able to know me well enough to stick up for me, then it’s time to just let the people who would believe gossip out of my life, as they have to me with theirs. It’s not worth it. I have too many new people in my life that are really important to me to let myself get hung up on this anymore.
So ignore me at shows. Leave places when I get there. Don’t try to talk to me when I approach you. Write songs about how I “dont’ get it”. Build a wall of things that you don’t want me to be a part of it and I’ll just walk along. It’s nicer over here.
I wish I had time to make cute .gifs and post them… but whatever.
I took control of my house today, for the most part.
About ten weeks ago, a friend of mine was in a really desperate situation. Due to some of the people she was spending time with, and her own issues, whatever may they be, had been taking some really bad drugs. She was preparing to be homeless. And as she was explaining this situation to me, I told her that for as long as I’ve known her, I could not let her be homeless. We would figure things out, but she could stay with me until she got a job and got on her feet.
So time and texts passed by, and as it came to be time for her to move in, I had cleared up and cleaned up a good amount of my house. I was going to be prepared, I mean, how much stuff can a person about to be homeless have. I kind of get blown off for about ten days or so, before we meet up and figuring out how we’re going to move things in. We end up spending a night together, probably not one of my greatest ideas.
Her “best friend” this whole time is at the apartment we are retrieving things from, and for whatever reason, there is a whole extra week of her packing her things up and moving them in, while this guy sleeps due to either exhaustion… or the drugs I find out later they are still taking. Mind you, part of this deal I made with her was that she could not, by any means, bring any sort of drugs into my house. The whole idea was that by being here, she would try and sober up and when she would go through a rough patch, I would do what I could to help her.
First night she’s full out of the other place and in here, her best friend stays too, cause he needs to get a ride to brand practice the next day and this is the only place he could stay. I’ve been on-again, off-again good friends with this band, so it’s a big ‘whatever’ issue to me. But, the following night, after she had slept in for the majority of the day, I come home and jump into bed, where she was. And we cuddle and watch some stuff on Netflix, blah blah blah. During this, I may have attempted to initiate things because, stupid me, we had hooked up not too many nights prior, and maybe there was room to rekindle things. But no, she wasn’t really interested. There were times were it felt like I was forcing myself upon her, and I stopped… and it felt like an ugly situation. I’ll never forget the couple nights I spent staying up, struck between that feeling of monstrosity and worry. With her living with me, I now had another mouth to feed. Didn’t make much for sleep that week.
Eventually, she left to join her friend at band practice, and spend time with him there where she could hang out at the house. Didn’t think much of it. She had been there almost two weeks or so, and she hadn’t really unpacked much. Somehow, she had accumulated many things in her life, and it packed my house. (I tend to live rather minimalistically.) There wasn’t room to walk around at times and it made it a bit tough to have band practice of my own.
Well, she never really came back. I texted her and asked when she would be coming back, and I got a long story back about how she had started using again, and was going to spend some more time with her friend (later to be confirmed as her boyfriend), and how she was going to check into rehab. I told her about the burden that things had become, with not being able to really live or use my own house… and I didn’t get much response out of her. I told her I was going to have to start moving her things outside, towards the backyard.
About a month later, I’ve made a lot of process on that. There’s just a lot of it. It’s easier ot move things in when there are two people. I still feel really bad, that I have to put her things outside, in case they get stolen… but it doesn’t seem fair that I become her storage locker between rehab and time she is going to spend back, moving in with her parents.
I felt really accomplished when I started writing this, because I got a lot of it out, but I think I feel like a monster again. I’d liek to believe I wasn’t trying to take advantage of her or antyhing, but nothing about this situation feels right.