We’ve been on the road two weeks. It’s insane, messy, vulgar and trying, but isn’t that what makes touring so damn fun? Every day we get to stand in front of thousands of fans, screaming our names and singing our own lyrics back to us. When I was a little kid back in Jersey, I would spend hours lying in bed dreaming up this stuff before I went to sleep. This is the stuff my fucking dreams are made of. Literally. One would think that after 3 years of being together, we’d get sick of the same old routine. We get up, we drive, we practice, we eat, we play a show, we sleep. That’s pretty much it if I’m being honest. But these guys… I couldn’t do it with them. They’re such dickheads… every day it feels like a new experience because of them. We were in Tokyo yesterday, and holy shit that was the best show we’ve done so far. The energy was just bouncing off the walls. Gerard, Gerard of all people WOULD completely change up the setlist without even warning us. That was an experience and a half. But damn it I love the guy.
If any of our fans have misconceptions about us, thinking we’re these macho rock guys who drink beer for breakfast and smash cars for fun, it’d be quite the pleasant surprise for them to know the rhythm guitarist has a massive crush on the lead singer.
Frank, you sound like a school boy.
I’m living on the threshold between hell and the funny farm. Wish me luck, I’m out for now.
I tore my eyes off my writing and looked around the plane, half-searching for the rest of the guys. God knows where they went, could be in the bathroom pissing on each other for all I know.
We’re not THAT close.
I forget where we’re even headed. That’s the thing about being on a plane at 5am after having done a show last night. My head is completely up in the clouds, nowhere to be found.
No fucking really, Frank.
I got up out of my seat and walked over towards the back of the plane; a shiver shot down my spine as I stepped wrong on that muscle in my ankle I pulled last night. Funny how that works, I’m tough enough to break multiple toes and still bounce around the stage like nothing happened and shitloads of tattoos without as much as a cringe, yet that one muscle freaks the hell out of me. I played a show last year hooked up to oxygen for fucks sake.
I glanced around the corner and sure enough, there they were, fucking around as usual. Mikey sat on Ray and kicked his feet which barely even skimmed the ground. The two laughed together over something I couldn’t quite make out. Their sleep-deprived faces seemed to light up through the dull greyness surrounding their eyes, and something about it was incredibly heartwarming. This is the side of My Chemical Romance that nobody sees.
We’re hardly macho rock guys who drink beer for breakfast and smash cars for fun.
And then there’s Gerard, sitting the corner, half-smiling along with them, and half absorbed in his sketchbook. Funny thing about him, he always subconsciously imitates the expression of whatever he is drawing. So what is he drawing this time, some creature without a face?
“Fucking loner.” Mikey smirked, waking me from my daze of thought.
“Homosexual.” I responded, gesturing towards his ass, perched happily on top of Ray’s knees.
“Was it me that kissed Gerard back in Singapore?”
“Brotherfucker.” He said between coughs.
I sat down beside Gerard and peered over at his sketchbook. He didn’t acknowledge me or put it down, he just kept staring at it. Most people would take offense to this I suppose, but this is just Gerard. Always in another world, yet completely in the moment. I don’t know how, but he has the ability to act like nobody else exists, but he picks up on everything. He can hide a million feelings and emotions and thoughts with a face like piece of paper.
“Brotherfucker, eh?” he finally said, still intently focused on his drawing.
See, this is what I meant.
“Calm your boner, Gee.” I laughed, praying to the dear Lord I wasn’t blushing as I said it.
He smiled and shook his head, tapping his pencil on the cover of his book.
“Not sure yet.”
“It looks like an angel.”
“You can’t see angels.” He said calmly, yet with all the confidence in the world.
“What makes you so sure of that?”
“I just know. Gut feeling.”
Angels are all-too visible, Gee. They have long black hair and drift around with sketchbooks glued to the palms of their hands.
My mind drifted off into the great beyond, maybe to that same place Gerard always seems to be living in. Because I could still hear Mikey and Ray sing Thank You for the Venom in the midst of laughs. And I could still think to myself “This is why nobody picks the 5am flights”.