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  1. Lone
    Latest Entry

    By Lone,

    Hello folks, I'd like to introduce you to your new moderator: @Todd.

    You may recognize him most from the GD downloads section but in the background he has been active in our team discussions. Due to his consistent activities we decided we should give him full moderator powers. He has been a media mod since May of 2015.

    Congrats to being more orange buddy!

  2. If you've paid attention to me recently, you'll know I went to Oakland in February. I wrote a thing about it here: https://wander.media/from-scotland-to-oakland-with-rage-and-love

    Please go read! (or at least click on the link and leave it open for a while)

    I really enjoyed my time there, and I'm so grateful to have had this opportunity, although there's still so many places I'd love to visit. I missed out on a Cover Ups show by about a week, which is frustrating, but at least I got to see Mt. Eddy. I might write something else about the trip here when I have time. 

  3. Good Luck With That

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    Recent Entries

    Would love if you guys would take some time to check out my soon to be released to the public EP Good Luck with That and help me choose the song to lead off on promoting the album this Monday. Please help, I'm more indecisive than you could ever know.


  4. Smoldering Panda
    Latest Entry

    *The title of the sermon today is inspired by the song by the aptly titled Chumbawumba. 

    Chapter/Verse/Hymn 3 - Head above the water.

    Hello there. If you haven't read the last two entries in my randomly updated blog thing I suggest you do for context~.

    As always, disclaimer that if I offer any opinions that they are my opinions and if I ramble I ramble.


    I think I'm winning, y'know? 

    I'm being battered a lot by my brain but I'm very rarely staying down for 10 at the minute. Sure, I have lapses of fuck the world, and fuck myself but doesn't everyone? If anything it's good old procrastination that's holding me back a little.

    I'll start with the positives, most I've kept to myself to now. I've always been private really, always a help people out but never reveal my troubles if prompted.

    I was 20 stone 1lb at the start of the year, and am now nearly 18 stone. Through dieting and (kinda when not procrastinating) exercising I can see the physical progress I have made, as shown by the lack of double chin and I can kinda see my hips. :lol:

    I have not relapsed back into gambling at all this year, as someone who did this daily this is a massive step up for me. It does help that I blocked everything from myself to stop including through my bank and PayPal, using programs that are password locked that block the sites. I kinda realize that, whilst not working currently I'm sure I will get this when I do start a full time job again, I'm not running out of money as much, so I can afford to go to London and see fellow members. 

    I have amazing support thanks to fellow members on here, and hey if you're reading this and we don't talk, drop a message. I'm always up for talking to new people. I'm always happy to offer help and advice for problems.

    So yeah, let's keep fighting. Together if we can.



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    Okay, this is for my best friend, my absolutely genius partner in crime, and literally the best human ever. YOU TOLD ME YOU'D MAKE A GDC ACCOUNT BUT YOU HAVEN'T YET! well, when you do I'll edit and tag you in this. I was too impatient to wait. I'm emailing this as incentive, though! Well, 'Ralph', this is for you. Miss you!

    @Russian monarch is finally here!!!!!


  5. igp3227_3.jpg?w=1024&h=633&crop=1

    I’d flown over New York City once. My knowledge extended little further than a night shot from Top of the Rock I’d seen – a view I dreamed one day I would see with my own eyes, or better yet, photograph myself.

    On February 22nd, 2011, on a plane stuck in a gate at Heathrow Airport, I wasn’t sure I’d ever get there. After a failed take off, rows of anxious people waited several hours to learn the fate of our flight. The de-icing system was probably alright, the crew said, and we’d try taking off again. We were in the air after two more attempts. When I saw steam coming out of the wing, I was pretty sure we were going to die, or at least miss the evening performance of Green Day’s American Idiot.

    Despite my self-reassurance that I’d at least go down for Green Day, we got to New York alive. Signs directed us to the restroom, elevator, told us not to use our cell phones. Welcome to the United States, a recorded voice announced over and over. The queue stretched all around the room; my excitement died down a bit as it moved increasingly slowly, nudging forward every five minutes or so.

    Homeland Security were, as always, convinced my mum was a criminal and dragged us into a side room. Today’s excuse was ‘the system isn’t working.’ All we could think of was the show that would begin in a few hours. When they let us go, we ran out of baggage control, into the American air and in a panic, threw our luggage into a yellow cab. It rolled away from the airport, along highways, past dark, sprawling neighbourhoods. As the twilit skyline came into view, for some reason, this foreign place felt like home.

    Our panic was unfounded: we made it to the St. James Theatre with half an hour or so to spare. I looked up at the sign that read, in neon lights, St. James: American Idiot. With this trip being very challenging to fund, then all our travel troubles… finally being here was surreal. I was no photographer back then – I just had a crappy (borrowed) phone camera – but I was certainly eager to document it as best as I could.


    We wandered across the street, taking it in, and a black car pulled up beside us. Billie Joe Armstrong, arriving to play the character of St. Jimmy, climbed out. We could have tapped him on the shoulder, certainly approached him, but he looked exhausted. It was enough to be reminded that this was real, that we weren’t just going to see our favourite band’s musical, but starring him. We left him alone.

    As doors drew closer, the street outside the theatre became a meeting place, packed with excited fans and theatregoers from around the world. People who’d never met, but knew each other from the fan community online, were united for the first time with hugs. The energy there was an experience in itself.


    To be honest, I wasn’t sure what to expect of the musical. Part of me expected to hate it, to be disappointed by how it didn’t live up to its iconic inspiration. What were the chances someone could get such a huge venture right?

    I knew, as soon as the first song began, that I was wrong.

    Tré Cool once described it as closest he’d ever get to seeing Green Day live, and I think that’s pretty accurate. It took the emotion of American Idiot, the live energy of Green Day that no other (living) band can match, and channelled it through a talented and passionate cast. I was seeing, hearing the album that introduced me to Green Day in a way I’d never seen or heard it before. These people sang and danced this every night, twice a day sometimes, but you’d never know it wasn’t their first or final performance. I knew, by Holiday when I was on a visceral journey to a city of dreams with Johnny and Tunny, why people were seeing it countless times.

    Watching Boulevard of Broken Dreams and Are We the Waiting, the lights and effects that looked so like New York City itself; these words resonated with me in a way they never had before. A disillusioned teenager, I felt just like Johnny – running from a dirty town burning down in my dreams, to find salvation in these starry nights, city lights of a lost and found city bound in my dreams. I was an English kid with no experience of American culture, but in Favorite Son, watching the dancers in the colours of the stars and stripes, tempting Tunny to join the army – I was as immersed as anyone else.

    I couldn’t have imagined this stage any more alive, until the thudding drums that preceded St. Jimmy, when the whole theatre waited with wide eyes; for the roar of ‘one-two-three-FOOOOOUUUUUR!’ that was Billie Joe’s entrance. I couldn’t judge the chorus of screaming fans. His stage presence was overwhelming. I had never imagined St. Jimmy as a small man staggering around, wiping his nose and tossing glitter with a ‘RAWR!’ – but this was him from now on. He was sweet, in a bizarre way that was enticing like the addiction he embodied, but for the same reason, extremely menacing. When he looked out at the crowd, he caught my eye and grinned. It would be hard to forget my stupid hairdo after it showed up in Costa Rica.

    I wasn’t sure what to expect of the 21st Century Breakdown songs that were mixed in, either, but Last of the American Girls complimented She’s a Rebel in a way that was more invigorating than the original tracks. Especially when St. Jimmy reappeared, questioning Johnny about whether he’d choose Whatsername or drugs; before climbing the steps to serenade him over a scene of the pair shooting up in Last Night on Earth. The gut-wrenching ballad was followed by the cheery intro of Too Much Too Soon, that showed Heather finally leaving Will – who’d remained in Jingletown getting high, living ‘every waking moment as a means to an end’ – with their newborn child. In Before the Lobotomy, we learned of Tunny’s demise: he laid now in a hospital bed, lamenting days of laughter. Extraordinary Girl was a moving, visceral portrayal of his morphine-induced hallucinations, flying freely with the pretty nurse who treated him.

    The lights faded and Johnny was illuminated by a lone spotlight. In a rare moment of lucidity, he picked up his guitar and sang an emotional When It’s Time to a sleeping Whatsername. However, St. Jimmy was never far: Billie Joe’s green eyes seemed luminous as, unblinkingly, they watched the quiet serenade, before he leapt up to yell ‘do you know the enemy?’ at the top of his lungs. Johnny was terrified as Billie Joe ‘rallied up the demons of [his] soul,’ trying to talk him back to drugs; while Will, alone on a couch in Jingletown, asked himself the same question, before insisting ‘there is nothing wrong with me.’ As the song closed, St. Jimmy was in control, separating Johnny and a frightened Whatsername. She was left emotionally beginning 21 Guns, as he laid unconscious on the bed they shared.

    In the meantime, a now lucid Tunny was finally aware he lost a leg and his dreams, of fighting for his country, amounted to nothing; while Will lamented now that ‘the hangover doesn’t pass’ and he, too, was left with nothing at all. Johnny sat up, refusing to face Whatsername’s chorus of ‘did you try to live on your own? When you burnt down house and home? Did you stand to close to the fire, like a liar looking for forgiveness from a stone?’ At St. Jimmy’s command, he pinned a letter, telling her he never liked her anyway, on the bathroom door.

    As he stumbled away, a now-glamorous Heather reappeared, singing the iconic intro to Letterbomb. This song, now a girl power anthem, belonged to Whatsername. Screaming at Johnny that ‘the St. Jimmy is a figment of your father’s rage and your mother’s love, made me the idiot America,’ her words destroyed them: Billie Joe, wearing a ‘happy birthday’ tiara, was knocked away from Johnny onto a sofa. After Whatsername left him with a cry of ‘I’m leaving you tonight!’ Johnny, Will and Tunny were left with reflection in Wake Me Up When September Ends. As the song closed, screens showed the face of St. Jimmy fading back to Johnny.

    By Homecoming, St. Jimmy was left alone, asking ‘please call me only if you are coming home.’ Though it was entirely unrelated to the story, I watched him singing ‘you taught me how to live’ and thought wow, you really, really did. He remained a looming temptation to Johnny; but eventually ‘blew his brains out into the bay,’ with a gun that said ‘bang.’ He flopped from atop the steps into the arms of the mourning swing. Of course, because it was Billie Joe, he looked back and waved as they carried him away. Truly free, Johnny took a dull day job to get home.

    Will waited alone on a couch, lamenting that ‘everyone left you, nobody likes you’ until Heather appeared with her new ‘rock ’n roll boyfriend.’ Michael Epser (Will) interrupted ‘and another ex-wife’ with ‘somebody get me a knife’ which isn’t on the cast album, but it should be.

    Johnny headed home, reunited with Will and eventually, Tunny, who introduced them to his new girlfriend: his nurse, Extraordinary Girl. Will – having made peace with Heather – introduced them to his newborn. The entire cast, all reunited, finally gathered to sing a roaring chorus of ‘nobody likes you, everyone left you, they’re all out without you, having fun!’

    Years later, Johnny had moved on, but still could not forget Whatsername. He could recall nothing but his regrets as she peered out from a window above; only to disappear as he turned around. The shadow of St. Jimmy appeared, too, to disappear before Johnny caught his eye. As the curtain fell, we were left with him wishing desperately to turn back time.

    The show ended with a full cast rendition of Good Riddance (Time of Your Life). Looking up at the colourful stage, I was moved beyond anything I could have imagined. I was level with Billie Joe, and he grinned at me and winked. I smiled back, thinking yes, I truly did have the time of my life.


    We walked out to a glittering New York night. It was then that I experienced, for the first time, how New York City does not need the stars: it has its own, each one with a story as complex, beautiful and ugly as any up in the sky. Unsure where we were going, just buzzing from the show, we wandered up West 44th Street into Times Square, where the towering buildings dazzled in vibrant colours. I’d never seen so many ads in one place. Shops, hotels and restaurants blared their names out in neon signs, fighting for attention. The air buzzed with countless languages and accents. Scalpers bellowed from corners, still selling tickets for sold-out Broadway shows. Tourists took photos, spilled out from the sidewalks onto the road; cars honked at them to move.


    We realised we needed to eat and crashed into the McDonald’s there, where we avidly discussed how good the show was. My favourite part was in Last of the American Girls/She’s a Rebel, when St. Jimmy screamed at Johnny to talk him out of Whatsername. My mum’s was the glitter ‘RAWR!’

    The next day, we got very lost searching for the Pokémon Center (now sadly just Nintendo World), which we eventually found with the help of some very kind locals. I wasn’t coming all the way to New York to miss out on catching ’em all, after all.


    We acquired Lugia, Flareon and Raikou plushies, who joined us at Top of the Rock. Standing atop this city, looking out over the sea of skyscrapers, was that moment in Are We the Waiting: when that dirty town was burning down in my dreams, searching for the lost and found city bound in my dreams. It wasn’t the glowing nighttime vista I once saw a photo of and dreamed of seeing myself; but I knew, already, that I was in love with New York City, and the show we could not resist returning to later that day. Despite the money we spent on tickets being reserved for food, but who needs to eat when you have Green Day, right?


    At the theatre’s box office, the vendor asked if we’d really come from England just for this musical. When we told him yes, he laughed and wished us a great night.

    Outside the theatre we met, for the first time, our longtime friend Micheal from Georgia. My mum got to know him when she bought a green 39/Smooth vinyl from him on eBay, and now by pure coincidence, here we were. We also made a new friend, Dao from Venezuela who was studying photography in New York.

    A fan since the Insomniac era and Green Day collector, Micheal brought his #001 numbered copy of Dookie on vinyl for Billie Joe to sign. The streets were becoming increasingly packed as he arrived, though, and we couldn’t catch him as he went in.


    Employee doors inside the St. James Theatre, painted for American Idiot

    Even with a partial view from the mezzanine, the show blew me away. It was as fresh and exciting as the previous night. Before Good Riddance, Billie Joe sang a snippet of Basket Case and dedicated it to ‘a kid that was waiting outside of a record shop in 1994.’ That kid was Lady Gaga, who watched the show from the front row and strutted out in heels that would probably break both of my legs. I texted one of my friends in England, a huge Gaga fan, and she was freaking out too. There was sadly no chance for Micheal’s Dookie now; fans were now leaving well in advance of the show’s close to secure their photos and autographs.


    My crappy phone pic of Times Square

    The three of us walked back to Times Square, then to the Hard Rock Café where Micheal kindly bought us dinner. We kept ending up back at the Church of Scientology. A sign? I hope not.


    West Side Highway: a Pinhead Gunpowder reference

    The next day, we were booked on a cruise we got talked into by some guy in Times Square. It’s a good thing the staff were nice, because we got lost and missed our boat. While we waited for the next one, we ate cream cheese bagels in P.D. O’Hurley’s. Maybe it was because we were frozen and it was warm in there, but those things were good. The pale imitations in Tesco do not compare.

    While the boat’s captain told stories of a plane that landed in the Hudson River, my mum fell asleep. I woke her up so she could charge out to photograph the Statue of Liberty. One of us had to man our nice window seats, because this thing was as rabid as a Green Day show, except full of tourists with cameras they were confused by.



    Later, of course, we went back to the theatre. We only meant to see this bloody thing once. Now we were destined for a diet of soda pop and Walgreen’s crisps (get it?). All that was left were balcony tickets, which were certainly easier on our wallets, though the view wasn’t that good. It was still exciting to see the show from another different angle, and the bad view didn’t change the energy. It didn’t change the raw talent. I found myself relating to the character of St. Jimmy in a way I never had before. Not its literal meaning, but what he represented could be interpreted in a hundred different ways. For me, it was perhaps the ‘demons of your soul’ that he sent to torment Johnny in Know Your Enemy. When I prepared myself for hating this show, I never thought I’d want to see it again and again; let alone that I would leave each night with a different, more personal and emotional interpretation of the album that introduced me to Green Day.

    After the show, I accidentally met Rebecca Naomi Jones (Whatsername) and got a brief chance to tell her how incredible she was; which she acknowledged with a smile and gracious thanks. She signed my playbill and so did Michael Esper (Will), who was perhaps my favourite non-Billie cast member, though only by a small fraction. I just loved his voice and his portrayal of Will. My mum’s was Stark Sands, who played Tunny.

    February 25th and this was a routine now: wander, theatre, repeat. That evening, I met Michael Esper properly. I was able to tell him he was my favourite, he replied ‘really? Thank you so much!’ and he was kind enough to take a photo with me.

    Before every show, the theatre held a ‘lottery’ for $25 front row tickets. We put our names in every time, of course, thinking we’d probably never win anyway; until the lady pulled out the first slip of paper and announced ‘Maria Gloria Harvey?’

    I couldn’t help but scream. There was a lady with her daughter who was so happy for us, saying we were huge fans and deserved it. I was shaking and I couldn’t stop laughing. Inside the box office, our friend on the desk served me with a grin. This trip was not getting tired. It was getting better.

    I remember in American Idiot, looking up at the stage, just inches away and my face stretched by an ear-to-ear grin; and one of the cast members seeing it as he slammed his fist onto the floor, and smiling back. This was an entirely different experience, where every pivotal moment truly shook me. When Billie Joe stood in front of us in St. Jimmy, he slobbered all down my face. Thanks for that, mate.

    It’s hard to describe exactly what this meant to me. To be sitting there in New York, so close to this energy and talent I had fallen totally, unconditionally in love with. Before the curtain fell for the last time, Stark Sands approached my mum and firmly placed his pick in her hand, saying ‘for you.’ Everyone involved treated us with such kindness that I will never forget.


    The next day, February 26th, offered both a matinee and evening performance. Our friend in the box office got us decent seats, in a box on the right, but the evening was sold out. That was OK. We would just enjoy the matinee even more.

    Looking down from above, I was struck again by Boulevard of Broken Dreams: the imagery of Johnny, alone with his guitar, before the vast city until he finds Whatsername. It was the first Green Day song I ever heard, and I’d overplayed it to the point I never listened to it anymore; yet it was one of my favourite moments of the musical. Van Hughes, who would later play Johnny, played Will this time. I was watching the heartbreaking renditions of 21 Guns and Whatsername with tears in my eyes now. I’m pretty sure I’d sob, a lot, if I ever saw this cast again.

    Outside, people were selling tickets for the evening performance, but we were almost out of money. Our haggling was unsuccessful. We were walking away when one of the guys approached us again. My mum asked if we could just buy one. When he heard that, he took pity and reduced them both. We were in.

    This was Christina Sajous (Extraordinary Girl)’s last performance, before she went across the street to Baby It’s You. Extraordinary Girl that night was the best so far, and though unrelated, so was Last of the American Girls/She’s a Rebel. That moment I loved so much, when the song is taken over by St. Jimmy – Billie Joe put more gusto into that than he ever had before.

    We were planning to go to the party organised by Green Day Community in a nearby bar, but I was sick at this point (the diet of soda pop and Walgreen’s crisps was not a sin I got away with), so we just went to rest. They’d invited Billie Joe and several cast members, though, and they actually showed up! Apparently Billie wanted to be ‘closer to the fans.’



    The view from our room: we could see the American Idiot sign

    February 27th was not only our last day, but John Gallagher Jr., Michael Esper and Billie Joe’s last, too. After begging the hotel for our deposit back, my mum and I got separate tickets. I was in the side orchestra; she was, according to the usher, in the ‘best seat on Broadway,’ which the guy who sold it to her for $50 clearly didn’t realise. The family next to me asked where I was from and of course, if I’d really come from Nottingham, England just for this. Then when my mum came running down to ask if I wanted to swap tickets, they were like ‘there are TWO of you?!’ We weren’t the only ones, though – people had come from all over the world ‘just for this.’ I stayed with my new friends, who kept asking to hear my accent, anyway.

    Last Night on Earth became more emotional every night, as Billie Joe screamed the words louder, from deeper within his heart. With just his raw voice, no glitter, no wiping his nose, St. Jimmy seemed frighteningly human. I not only saw American Idiot in a different light; but also 21st Century Breakdown, my favourite album of all time, that I never imagined could become more than it was.

    After the curtain fell, the family asked me if the show was worth it. I said yes, of course, and they agreed.

    We were high up in the mezzanine for the final performance. After St. Jimmy, Billie Joe accidentally let out a ‘HEEEY-OOOOOH!’ and despite this having no place on Broadway, the crowd obediently responded ‘HEEEEEEEEY-OOOOOOOOH!’

    The applause after St. Jimmy went on and on, until Billie Joe and John gave in and laughed. I’m not sure what the theatregoers who weren’t Green Day fans thought, but oh well. In Homecoming, when Billie drew the St. Jimmy heart on his chest, he stopped halfway and smudged it. It was the little things that made the shows individually special. The whole performance was packed with emotion; both John and Michael cried at points, knowing they were leaving for good. I was desperately trying to take it all in because I knew this was the last time I’d ever see this cast, and possibly any of Green Day for a very long time.

    After a tearful Good Riddance, Billie Joe asked Michael if they could play Walking Out On Love, which he’d played for Theo Stockman’s departure the previous month. Michael said yes, so Billie proceeded to sing it into their faces, then kneel down to serenade John. Then they waved goodbye, the curtain fell, and it was all over.


    Before our flight, we walked with our bags to the St. James Theatre to see it one last time. Of course, to say goodbye to our friend in the box office, too, who was the only reason we got into most of those shows. Other fans were there, heads bowed, as if paying tribute. It brought tears to my eyes because I knew it meant something different to all of us; but that we were the same in how much it meant to us.

    On our flight home, the pilot announced that his name was Captain Heritage. He was very proud of this, and kept repeating it. He also claimed we’d land in London an hour early, before the British Airways flight that just left. To do this, he strayed from the usual route into bad turbulence. The flight staff were thrown around until they had to sit down, quite frightened and yelling at us to keep our seatbelts on at all costs. Anyway, we landed in London late. British Airways had long been at the gate. I’m not quite sure what Captain Heritage was trying to achieve, but he probably shouldn’t try again.

    When I opened my bag, I found a note telling me that Homeland Security ‘deeply regretted’ this, but had to break in. Clearly, they thought I was a Pokémon smuggler.

    I’d heard rumours that Billie Joe would return to Broadway in April. A woman in the lift at our hotel insisted on it, and so did Annabelle. A few weeks later, it was confirmed. I still haven’t learned to listen to Annabelle. Anyway, this was perhaps the first time in my life I burst into tears of pure joy. We bought tickets for the closing night as soon as we could. Not only would we see Billie Joe as St. Jimmy again, but we would see this incredible show close. As we pieced the money together, we bought tickets for the matinee and the two shows the day before.

    Flights were not cheap, though and despite our best efforts, we could not get the remaining money together. After a lot of tears, we sold our tickets. Then, with about 24 hours to spare, we were able to borrow the money. We booked it, threw all we needed in a suitcase, I took a bath, the heating exploded, my mum went to my aunt’s house to dye her hair, we made a run for the bus to the airport… and that is how we went to New York with 24 hours notice.

    We arrived just in time for the evening performance, on April 23rd, 2011. As we approached the theatre, someone told us Green Day were rehearsing. Fans had their ears to the wall and soon it was identified as Jesus of Suburbia. None of us knew each other, but we sang along together, before we parted ways to find our seats. On one side of us was Tanya who runs Green Day Mind and on the other, a lady with some flowers for Billie Joe. I hadn’t slept for well over 48 hours at this point. I only realised I’d fallen asleep when I was jolted awake by Billie Joe’s ‘ONE-TWO-THREE-FOOOOOOUR!’

    Don’t judge me, I was jetlagged. When the lights illuminated the crowd, Billie spotted us, grinned and yelled ‘oh my GOD!’ which remains one of my favourite ‘what the fuck are you doing here?’ moments. Hi, just got on a plane from England less than 24 hours after booking it, glad u like.

    All three leads had now been replaced: Van Hughes now played Johnny, Justin Guarini played Will and David Larsen, on a break from Billy Elliot, played Tunny. I was, yet again, unsure what to expect and, yet again, blown away. Van’s portrayal of Johnny was completely different, yet equally funny and moving for that very reason. Rebecca Naomi Jones still played Whatsername, yet to miss a single performance, but her passion never wavered. I left, as always, with another different take on two of my favourite albums of all time; but perhaps more importantly, knowing that coming to New York for 36 hours, on a flight I booked not that long before, was the right choice.



    From left to right: Tony, Ross and Kate from England, Hege from Norway and me

    The next day – April 24th, the final two shows – the street outside the theatre was packed from early morning. We met people we’d met in San Francisco, in Paris, in Costa Rica and people we knew, or who recognised me from the online community (at least the hairdo served a purpose). An older man, with tickets to see the show for the first time, kindly offered to take a photo of us when someone said ‘hi.’ We turned to see it was Billie Joe’s wife Adrienne. Other fans screamed as she passed. I suppose our blurry photo has an interesting story behind it.

    Thanks to our friend in the box office, we got seats about six rows back. He insisted he could get us better tickets for the evening, too, but we didn’t want to be greedy when the guy we sold them to let us have them back. By pure coincidence, we sat to find the man who took our photo beside us. He was excited now and watched with wide eyes as the stage came alive. This cast wasn’t just a replacement, it was a whole new experience. I loved Van as much as John. Billie Joe was clearly tired, but on fire regardless. Last Night on Earth continued to become ever more emotional. This was the closest I’d ever get to seeing songs like Homecoming live, and it lived up to any expectations I would’ve had if this was Green Day.

    Before Good Riddance, Billie Joe knelt down and unfolded a piece of paper. Other cast members peered over his shoulder. No one but Van knew what he was doing. Then together, they began to sing The Beatles’ Two of Us, reading the lyrics from the crumpled page. By the time it sunk in, they were done, standing back up and playing Good Riddance. The man beside us asked if they always do that, and he was pleased when we told him no that his show was special.


    Cast members doing the ticket lottery

    We hurried off to discuss the show, inevitably ending up in the Times Square McDonald’s. Back at the theatre, cast members Libby Winters (Extraordinary Girl) and Alysha Umphress (swing) did the final ticket lottery. Rumours were flying that Green Day would perform after the show. I would have been content with this – to be there to see this show close.

    Rebecca, especially, put her all into her performance like never before. Letterbomb was something else that night. After Good Riddance, cast members and others involved gave speeches on how it all began, what it meant to them, and how it ended up. There was certainly a sadness in the air, since after a year on Broadway, it was finally over.

    Then, the stage was cleared. Instruments were set up. Green Day were on stage. Jason Freese sat at a piano, only to be sent back off when Billie Joe changed course. They opened with Only of You. This was surreal. It would not sink in. The lady beside us, obviously an innocent theatregoer, was very confused and slightly concerned as everyone around her leapt to their feet.

    Their second song was Murder City, then Holiday. The cast were on the stage. John was crowd surfing. Billie later told him to ‘go back to Jerusalem’ (the musical he left American Idiot for). He then made a speech which later appeared, slightly modified, in the deluxe version of ¡Uno!: ‘Keep your fucking heart young, goddammit. Keep it fucking all comfy all the time. Don’t fucking stop, there’s a reason why that hand is holding the heart. It just keeps squeezing that motherfucker ’til it still bleeds, every goddamn day.’

    After a random cover of the Spiderman theme, Billie Joe announced ‘we’re gonna play a cover song. Very significant right now. Every time someone’s left alone, we play this song.’ Because of course, they couldn’t end the show without Walking Out On Love (which they played several times in a row at a party later).

    They closed with Jesus of Suburbia. It was perhaps appropriate that this show ended how Johnny’s journey begins: you’re leaving, you’re leaving home. I’m not sure many Broadway shows can claim they sent an entire theatre into singing, dancing, crowd surfing hysteria.


    The St. James Theatre being redecorated, the day after American Idiot closed


    And that was that. Or so it seemed. Is this the end or the beginning? All I know is, she was right. I am an idiot. It’s even on my birth certificate, in so many words.

    This is my rage.

    This is my love.

    This is my town.

    This is my city.

    This is my life.

  6. Hello! My sister has started an online fundraiser to purchase supplies for her band students because her school doesn't have the money to pay for them.

    I wanted to share it with you all in case you'd like to donate to support the cause — anything helps! If you use the promo code "liftoff" during checkout today, your donation wll be matched by the fundraising website.


    I don't think many people realize how many teachers in the U.S. use their own money to purchase supplies, especially for elective classes like music and art that are seen as "non-essential" compared to the others. On average, they spend about $600/year on their own supplies, and it's worse in schools with lower-income students like the one where she teaches, according to the most recent survey from nonprofit adoptaclassroom.org.

  7. I Wrote This Song for You



    I wrote this for song you.


    I hope you didn’t have me confused

    with someone who throws moments like this away. 


    While I have your attention, 

    there’s oh-so-much I’d like to say.


    What if I told you that when you smile,

    I feel compelled to do the same?


    Or, what if I told you, that when it snows I’m happy 

    because I’ve seen your face glow while the white-crystals fall 

    softly above you on the trees.


    I don’t normally like the snow, but these days 

    you have me swearing that I do. 


    What if I told you that your almond eyes 

    have my heart jumping every time

    they catch mine?


    That your voice grooves

    through my ears

    like a snake charmer’s song.


    Or, that your touch on my arm 

    turns the air electric.


    What if I told you I love 

    the way clouds of smoke move 

    cursive from your lips?


    Smooth as the rhythm of your hips 

    dancing in the moonlight. 


    What if I told you that I’m feeling 

    especially honest tonight?

  8. undefined

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  9. Writings and shit

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    Recent Entries

    Lady Darkling
    Latest Entry

    It's such a shit feeling when an artist you admire dies. It's this weird state of mourning, where you didn't really know the person, but at the same time, you did. You knew their art, their music, you knew what they were like on the other side of a camera lens, you've fallen asleep to their voice.

    And now they're just... gone. It's hard to comprehend how real it is, because for me the change isn't discernible or immediate.

    But fuck does it hurt anyway. I haven't stopped listening to his music since I heard, and I keep crying at random times. It's unfair, so goddamn unfair that he could help me and so many others to pull through, but we couldn't do the same for him.


    My reflection is cast on the closing elevator door
    Looking worn out but, even like this
    The reason why I still blink my eyes and breathe
    Is it for me or am I chased?


    Tell me honestly, you're feeling so lonely
    Tell me honestly, you know you can't go on like this
    How long have you been alone?
    It's awkward to meet my own eyes in the mirror
    For me, for me, for me


    Rest in peace Jonghyun. Your music has and will continue to help and inspire me, you seemed like a wonderful person, and I'm so fucking sorry you had to go through so much pain. The world has lost a great musician; your memory will live on.

    Onwards, I suppose, for the rest of us.


    Moods: that weird state of mourning


    Stay Dirty


  10. Starving The Voice

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    I don't know if The Voice is something that we are all born with, which only flourishes under the right circumstances. However, I know it has been active since I was old enough to form an opinion of myself.  I  remember thinking I was ugly and unlikeable at the very beginning of primary school. Throughout my childhood and my teenage years, The Voice grew stronger and more powerful, fuelled by the harsh words of my fastidious, traditional parents and bullies. At first, I believed The Voice was my friend. It pushed me to excel academically and to be an obedient daughter. It apparently protected me, the socially awkward kid, from any harm by reminding me I was just no good at making real friends. Yet, The Voice never rewarded, but only punished. No amount of A* grades, first class degrees and graduate job offers could convince The Voice to tell me I was worthy. They were all just a fluke. And if they weren't a fluke, The Voice would take all the credit.

    The Voice became steadily more and more intelligent. It adapted to changes in my environment, and found ways to thrive. When I left home for university, I also left the bullies and my oppressive parents. Very quickly, I became more outgoing and sociable. By reminding me constantly of the shy, overweight teenager I once was, The Voice pushed me to make friends and to be a good friend, all under the guise of so called high self confidence, high self esteem and good social skills. It picked apart my appearance, alluding to the callous remarks of the year ten boys, who told me I was so ugly that I would never find love. I lost weight and started wearing make up. I got more attention and met my (now ex) boyfriend. The Voice congratulated itself.

    I fell absolutely, hopelessly and deeply in love. For a year or so, I was so happy. The Voice lay dormant for the majority of the time, making only very occasional, flimsy remarks. But it was far from dead. It was just weak from a lack of negative events to fuel its purpose. Then it had its greatest chance yet. My boyfriend was white and non-Muslim, two features I knew my parents would not tolerate in any partner of mine. Thus, I kept my relationship secret for a year, uncertain of how to convince them that he made me happy. I felt guilty for keeping him a secret and even worse for lying to the two people who brought me into this world, but I knew telling them wouldn’t be easy. The Voice awoke from its slumber, more aggressive than ever.

    “You selfish, undeserving bitch. You’re a fucking coward.”

    And so, after a year of dating, at the beginning of my third out of four years of university, I came clean to my parents. As expected, they were furious, and not because I’d kept it a secret. The exact chain of events is long and difficult to explain exactly, but in short, over the course of the next year, they did everything they could to punish me. They emotionally manipulated me, withdrew what financial support they could and kicked me out of the family home where I grew up and would have spent my summers and Christmases in between university terms. They stopped speaking to me entirely. The Voice turned on me.

    “This is what you fucking deserve, you cretin. This is all your fault.”

    It seemed as soon as I told my parents, my relationship with my boyfriend began to falter. At first, I thought it was due the newfound long distance between us, as I had started a yearlong degree related internship, and he a PhD in different cities. He grew callous and disinterested, rarely coming to visit or allowing me to visit him, and constantly making snide comments about my intelligence, appearance and family. Through my tears and heartbreak, The Voice matured drastically.

    “Oh stop crying, you weak bitch. It’s just a joke. You expect too much from the world, you spoilt fucking cow.”

    I finished my internship and returned to my university city for the final year of my course, to live with four of the best friends anyone could hope for. Throughout the last four years, these people have supported me emotionally and practically, and I would not be anywhere without them.

    “You don’t fucking deserve them. Why don’t they just let you rot on the fucking roadside?”

    Their love and support helped me to see how unhappy my relationship was. No matter how much I told him he was being unfair or hurtful, he would not change/ After two and half years together, just before Christmas last year, I left my boyfriend. It was an agonising decision. I had made the effort to tell my parents about my life choices, at least partially for him. Now it felt as I was throwing it all away.

    “You weak, flaky c***. You think you can do better? Bullshit. Don’t fucking cry. You broke your own fucking heart.”

    But heart broken I was. Shortly after the break up, my housemates popped out for some groceries, leaving me alone for all of half an hour. I remembered I couldn’t even call my mother for support. The dreaded feeling of endless loneliness and a distinct lack of purpose started to arise. The walls felt like they were caving in. I started panting, then sobbing, as the feeling of abandonment began to overwhelm my senses. I collapsed on the floor, beating the ground with my fists and getting more and more frustrated when it didn’t give way. My housemate found me in this state. I still remember how immediately soothing her embrace and gentle instruction to “let it all out” felt.

    Barely a month later and now in 2017, I half-jokingly joined a popular dating app, and met a rather arrogant but attractive man who chased me relentlessly. He held utterly appalling views with regards to women and non-white people.

    “You’re never going to get any better, hun. Who the fuck do you think you are?”

    Unsurprisingly, he disappeared more or less as soon as he got to sleep with me. He told me I was too aggressive and not feminine enough for him to want to consider a relationship with me. The fact my parents didn’t speak to me also made him think I was crazy.”

    “Too fucking right. You need to know your place, you arrogant, entitled bitch.”

    The new year did bring some good news. I graduated with a first and got an elusive graduate job near London with one of the world’s biggest pharmaceutical companies.

    “You. Are. A. Fraud.”

    With some encouragement from my friends and also The Voice telling me I was a cold hearted c*** if I didn’t, I invited my parents to graduation, making it clear that, while I was single, I would happily date outside my race again. My dad turned up and a month later I went home for the first time in almost two years. I thought it meant peace.

    That summer, I moved down south in preparation for new job, which started in September. I also met a friend of a friend, a genuine and lovely man, at a festival in Scotland. We spent three days together. Although it would have meant very long distance, I was determined to see him again. He took a long time to answer my texts, and eventually stopped contacting me altogether.

    “Why the fuck would a true gent like that want YOU? Disgusting trollop.”

    As I started my first permanent graduate position, and started to experience the stresses of modern working life, The Voice employed a brand new tactic to keep me down: fantasy. It was like opium for my sense of reality. I was on the way to achieving my concept of perfection: an idyllic middle class family life, everlasting love, financial stability, and a fulfilling career. It was all I thought about – this journey to obtaining self worth through specific achievements. And my would be festival lover could be the leading man. We would not be apart if it were not for circumstance.

    I clung onto this ideal for dear life for months following my trip, using it occasionally to distract me from the constant fear of being found out as an incapable, useless fraud at my new job. Then I fell out with my parents again. They told me they still couldn’t accept me or my life choices, that my successes were mediocre and unimpressive and that I would end up alone and a failure. As I walked away from my childhood home once more, I was utterly heart broken. But I was also angry. The Voice took a softer approach this time.

    “You *could* prove them wrong. You just need to achieve perfection. I’ll let you off. But nothing less.”

    I lived and breathed this fantasy future. It was so much more attractive than the present, seemingly so much more in my control than the bleak past. I started to adjust at work. The Voice wasn’t going to reward my progress.

    “Everyone here can see how lazy you are. Stay late, you pig.”

    One day, I kept telling myself, we will meet again and fall in love. The Voice didn’t correct me at moments like these. I was allowed to lie to myself, so long as I was aware there was a gold standard I had to aspire to, that I had to desperately want in order to achieve my worth.

    This false sense of contentment, which led me to believe the counselling therapy I was now receiving was working all too quickly, inevitably shattered yesterday. Social media can be a poisonous thing. Our would be lover had found another. Upon investigation, it would appear he probably met her shortly after our weekend together.

    “Fucking knew it. You would fucking repulse a nice guy like him, and he was mad enough to give you a chance in the first place! Oh, don’t get upset, you pathetic, selfish bitch. Be happy for people that are better than you.”

    The ideal is over. I am faced with my reality. Single and alone in an expensive dreary commuter town, in a demanding graduate job, still many years away from the elusive senior positions and without the support of my family. I am forced to come to terms with the mediocrity and imperfections of my lonely, unimpressive and hateable existence. The Voice doesn’t care how far I have come. It only cares how far I have to go. It tells me everything will be just fine when I complete a list of actions, only to reprimand me when I complete the job, but don’t do any better.

    But today was the first time in a long time that I accepted the present as being the best dimension for me to focus my attention on. It is the only time I truly have control over and can only be as happy as I am willing to make it. It was the first time in a long time I have ever made the effort to forget the mistakes and pain and the regrets of the past. It was the first time I tried to succeed in the present and for the benefit of tomorrow, without living entirely in the future. That is how I want my life to be.

    To continue doing this, I need to kill The Voice. It won’t die with a single shot or a stab. It has to be starved slowly of the negative thoughts that arise from unfortunate situations. It will be a long, hard road. But I have spent somewhere between 15 and 20 years torturing myself by allowing it grow to the monster it is today. I can’t take it anymore. I know how bad it could get if I let it consume me.

    “I don’t want your sympathy

    I don’t want your honesty

    I just want to get some peace of mind”

    My friends and their families have supported and loved me through all of this, but their genuine kindness will not pull me through this alone, as grateful as I am. Silencing and killing these lifelong demons myself now is important.

    “I don’t want to hear it anymore”

    I’ve had enough, and I am ready to change.


  11. A few weekends ago I stumbled upon a really cool neighborhood in Hamburg that's basically the punk leftist heartland. There's cute little shops, cool restaurants and street art everywhere. I fell in love instantly. :wub: If I could choose anywhere to live, it would probably there. In the first two pictures there were a few people watching a footballame in front of a bar. The second picture honestly isn't that good but I had to take it secretly because I loved his vest. I was kicking myself for not telling him that and later after exploring the neighborhood I was sitting in the train and fantasizing about complimenting him, and just in this moment he walked past my window at the station, and yet I never saw his face. :( 

    I also randomly saw a feminist protest in the city which I immediately joined. I haven't been to any protest in so long (not because I don't want to go, but because I never know when there are protests in the city). It ended in front of the coolest building I've ever seen. It's called the Rote Flora (the red flora) and it's an old theater that's been occupied by leftists since the late 80s. 

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  12. New lyrics. Enjoy.


    Paper Alcohol


    I don't bow to hurricanes

    When the need strikes,

    you gotta take the reins

    Soak up the poison, choking me

    make me do things you wouldn't believe


    Impulse or reason,

    Moderation or greed

    Believe in the sickness

    Believe in me




    Unable to be cured

    Leave us to die

    At the whim of the absurd


    Rebounding coil

    Incentivize the pured

    Leave the young to cry

    From the pike of the torturer


    I can see it now

    We're the ones left behind

    A touch of the mortal

    Cut even shorter from those unkind


    I can feel it now

    An obsession man-made

    The caress of the bank

    makes the world afraid




    We are animals


    The chain has been linked


    We are animals


    Spinal tensions, we blinked

  13. Hey guys, I'm Nico and welcome to another episode of Nico Talks About Stuff!

    Today's topic is something that annoys many people: Censorship in video games.

    Well, I think it's okay if a few things are cut out of a game to have them allowed for ages 13 and up, but the part where I think "What the hell?" is the fact that even 17+ games are getting cut.

    I mean, here in Germany, it's clear that they think underage kids are stupid and have never seen blood before, but if they really think adults are as stupid, I'm thinking "Whoa... what world do you live in?"

    Of course, there's the blood censoring:
    Character: *gets shot* Oh my God! I'm bleeding to death! I'M BLEEDING TO DEATH!
    Player: Dude, there's no blood anywhere...

    But that's not all. Some shooters go as far as to make the corpses just... disappear.

    They... disappear. Where to? And more importantly... why?!

    But video games are not the only victims. Movies and TV series have a hard time here too.

    Let's take Naruto as an example. Here is a picture of a scene from the original version, and here is a picture of that same scene from the European version. Wow.

    Something else in Naruto: Censored dialogue. Instead of...

    I... will kill you!
    Haha, we'll see about that!

    ...we get this:

    I... will degrade you!
    What? Dude, you can't do that! I'm the highest officer! Do you even know how long it took for me to work my way up?!

    But sometimes, in the US, things don't get better. For example, let's look at One Piece. This is the original version, and this is the 4Kids version. The gun was replaced by a fucking toy hammer...?

    What is that? That's so stupid! That's like if I would replace a rifle with an umbrella or something...

    Then, there are some changes that I just can't understand. Just look at this. What the fuck? Definitely not racist. At all. I don't even wanna know what was going on in their heads.

    Here's my personal opinion: Of course you don't need to show kids a head bursting open or something. But I think blood should be shown. Why? Come on. There's some guy that gets cut open by someone, and he doesn't lose any blood? The kids might think: "Hey, that doesn't look too dangerous!" and they might do it themselves.

    "Hehe, does this hurt? *stabs own foot* Oh... my G-- wait, what's that red liquid? I was fooled!"

    Yeah, I think it's more risky to cut it out, because you should know the consequences and learn out of them!

    What do you think about our German censorship? Write a comment down below! See you next Sunday!

  14. Spoiler

    If you told me I'd be loved one day
    I'd laugh, turn around, and walk away
    This feels nothing like reality
    But still not my fantasy
    How did I deserve to get here
    With you my problems
    Seem to disappear
    I was at my worst, now at my best
    My mind won't give you a rest

    Everything feels so right
    We can rule the world tonight
    You're everything that
    I could ever need
    I'll never leave

    I know you more than anyone else
    I care more about you than about myself
    When I was lost in my own despair
    You were the one who cared
    They all said the same thing every time
    But still I couldn't make up my mind
    Now I’ve made my choice and now I know
    I’m never letting go

    Everything feels so right
    We can rule the world tonight
    You're everything that
    I could ever need
    I'll never leave

    I have had no regrets
    Not one since I said yes
    I found my answer at last
    This is one wild ride
    The best of my life
    Can this go on until the end of time

    Everything feels so right
    We can rule the world tonight
    You're everything that
    I could ever need
    I'll never leave [x2]


  15. Trotsky
    Latest Entry

    Here I stand
    More or less intact
    Sunshine on my back
    In fact, I'm fine
    I'm getting by
    One reassurance at a time

    I would write myself
    A battle hymn
    And sing the words
    Day in, day out
    But self-talk
    Has a self-defeating way
    Of burning out
    And seeding doubt

    I stare down my demons
    But they don't tend to flinch

    The guilt, the insecurity
    And all this fucking baggage
    If there's one thing that I've learned
    It's that this shit is made of plastic:
    Throw it all away
    But it will stay right where it lays
    It takes so much longer
    Than a lifetime to decay
    It's in the way

    In the ocean of the mind
    It flows into a garbage reef
    Soda cans and grocery bags
    A monument to grief

    An image of the struggle
    To move on; it would resemble
    The visage of an old dog's foggy eyes

  16. Hi all. I just wanted to come on here because I haven't posted in a while! :)


    I have been inactive online due to multiple things...here are some:

    • I have been incredibly ill since September 17th. I was admitted to hospital for sixteen days and am still ill. I was told everything in the book; that I'm allergic to mushrooms, that I'm pregnant, that it's more kidney issues, kidney stones (which I had before, it wasn't that pain), etc. I have a fischer on my colon which is over 2" in length and am suspected to have chronic appendicitis. I was supposed to have surgery but was sewn back up because they said the surgery would split my colon. I am still in immense pain and going to multiple appointments weekly.
    • I am trying to lose weight. During the past year and a half I was on a very serious steroid to help with my kidney issues. Little did we even know my appendix was causing the infections in my other organs. Now that I am off of the steroids and switched to Cipro, I have been able to lose a lot of weight :D Not at my old size yet but so close and I am so proud of myself! My vegan lifestyle helps a lot with that to be honest. My face feels a lot less puffy when I sleep and my pants don't feel tight anymore. :D <3 
    • I have been in placement. I am in placement for a mental health agency in my city and it truly has been the best experience of my life, apart from any Green Day concert and meeting Tom. It is a lot of work but I am learning so much and really expanding on my social work skills! :) I hope I get hired here, it is my dream job.
    • Placement is 24 hours minimum a week. Classes are 10 hours a week. I work 10-20 hours at PetSmart a week, 4 hours a week with a client, and 4-8 hours a week with another client. All of my free time is used to do homework and talk to Tom and see my pets...also work out and build on my resume. :P
    • I have been applying for Master's programs. :) 
    • I have been applying for graduation awards.
    • This week I started going out with friends again and trying to make memories. :D 

    And yeh! That's what's up with me. Mainly the two first things but I just wanted to let people know I'm not dead. :P I have some of you on Facebook and I love hearing from you all. I still am in love with Green Day (listening to 86 right now), and still stay updated. I am trying to improve on my mental health and physical health a lot and just want to cross that finish line to graduation! :D I miss you all and can't wait to be more active when I'm graduated. :wub: 

  17. Fike speaks

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    now the summer of 2015 was only a small spark.   after returning home and listening to green day i began to find other good punk music  i found a love for nirvana as well

    a few bands include : the dead kennedys, the Ramones, Greenday, rancid, sum41, some blink-182, the offspring, and a few other random punk songs 

  18. NickTheToaster blogs about stuff

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    Latest Entry

    So this is a blog! Pretty cool, I guess.

    I'm not sure what I'll put on here, probably just whatever comes to mind. If there's anything you'd like to see, then you can message me and I'll see.

    New here, so anyone who wants to reach out and chat, go ahead please!

  19. Green Day – Nimrod: Feature.


    In 1997, Californian band Green Dayreleased their most underrated but diverse record in the form of Nimrod, an album bubbling with hooks and dark edged lyricism. The band had to prove they were still relevant after the disappointing Insomniac, a record which did have its hits, but never hit those meteoric heights. Dookie did so in 1994. That opus brought Green Day into the limelight, a light so vibrant and crucial.


    Dookie was a statement of intent, a colossal compendium breaking boundaries, a piece of punk layered with snotty nosed mellow drama. It truly rooted Green Day into the big time, overthrowing their past records. But, as they grew, tensions did too, and the band was banished from Gilman Street, a punk club where many acts nurtured their souls and tweaked their sounds.


    As Green Day prospered, many people became distant, fans who loved the band walked away. This is when Green Day became a goliath act, securing places at biggest festivals. But, as they put their pen to paper, their punk laurels were fading. Not to say that the band was forgetting their roots, they just had to grow, they had to burst and breakaway.


    Green Day was a major label band when they signed to Reprise in 1994. Some people think the band shot to fame with their seminal record American Idiot all those years later. So the act was making millions well before Jesus Of Suburbia was constructed, they were flying the punk flag through the flurry of scepticism.


    And Nimrod pushed Green Day into the light even more so with a ballad that shook the world. That melodic heart-puller is Good Riddance (Time Of Your Life). It’s a song many play at their wedding day, it’s a song which resonates and showcases lead singer/guitarist Billie Joe Armstrong’s impressive writing talent. 


    Good Riddance sent Green Day onto the airwaves, although it angered the punks and estranged. They were blasting the band for their decision to put a ballad on one of their albums. They thought the act was selling out, nipping at the arms of greed, shooting for the pot of gold. But, Green Day didn’t surrender and moved on up regardless. 


    Nimrod may contain one of Green Day’s most poignant scores, but the record as a whole is punk infused. Nice Guys Finish Last is a blistering, guitar driven masterclass. Redundant mops up the fragments of punk’s inner core, and cools it down as Armstrong sings with ease and great tone. Reject is a fast-paced pile-driver, it’s in your face. So many of these songs return to the punk days. And that shows us Green Day aren’t leaving their signature sound to rot, they never have cascaded into bubble-gum pop territory, they have tweaked it, adding more complexity. This complexity is heard on American Idiot. A record which saved the pioneers from truly derailing. It’s an album many hate, but many people love the diversity it showcases.


    American Idiot may be Green Day’s most popular and audacious LP. But there’s flashes of this magic on Nimrod. The true intensity it creates, the darkness it exudes is believable. It may not be Green Day’s magnum opus, but what it is, is something which strikes punk into veins of those seeking a thrill.






  20. 9876gwen
    Latest Entry

    Man its been a long while since I posted one of these on here but not time better than the present, right? So ever since I started college, ive been having more people coming up and saying they thought I was still in high school or that I look like I still belong in middle school(im 19 btw). What's worse is that most of the people who say that begin treating me like a kid who's still in 8th grade or something. Like, they treat my thoughts or opinions on a matter like they're invalid because I look like im a child and apparently a childs opinion doesnt matter. It's really demeaning and confidence crushing ya'know? Like for example, the last date I went on with my boyfriend was horseback riding, we had to sign this waiver saying we wont sue if we get hurt or whatever, the lady who gave us the waiver almost made my boyfriend sign the parent/guardian part until we gave her a strange look and she asked for my age, she acted surprised and apologized =/  Or sometimes older people will shoot us dirty looks because we are holding hands. Not to mention the NON STOP carding I get. Just about anything that could require ID I get asked for and extensively questioned, some times accused that im using a fake. Sometimes I just wanna scream "Im an adult, stop treating me like a little kid!" I already know im going to be looked down upon in the workplace when I get a job because im young/ look young, that im going to get the barrage of child jokes. Anyone else struggle with something like this? Like why do most people my age look like models in their mid 20s?

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    For those who don't know, Blue is a Japanese 1981 daphne blue Fernandes RST50 "Revival" Stratocaster with a maple neck. It has a 7 screw hole pickguard (as opposed to a 11 hole).

    Unfortunately finding this model in daphne blue is next to impossible, I've only ever seen 1 or 2 other ones and they weren't for sale. Because of this I decided to settle on getting one in any colour and just having it repainted. It took me about a week to find the exact model for a decent price. Most places wanted $700+ for the guitar even though that model isn't worth that much. After searching through ebay, Reverb, and other trading posts I eventually found one on an online store in Japan. Unfortunately they wouldn't ship to Australia but luckily for me, I had a friend in Japan will to help me out!

    The guitar arrived a few weeks later and looks fantastic! I forgot to take pictures of it before it went off to get painted (it's currently being done now) but here's some ones from the online store :)




    Up next - Part Two: Painting & Relicing

  21. Hello, fellow GDCers. Thanks for all of the well wishes through all of this craziness with my dad.

    The latest on my dad is that he will have to go through chemo and radiation starting on September 11th. Surgery was unable to remove all of the cancer, so the doctors now want to do radiation to remove the last of it which they believe they can do. They had to remove one of his jugular veins during the surgery as well as a muscle from his neck to his shoulder that has now limited the ability of him to raise his arm above his head.

    Swallowing is an issue for him at the moment and he's on a liquid diet until he can get his swallowing under control.

    So, today...my mom called to tell me that she has a tumor on her throat and that she will need a biopsy to see if it's cancerous.

    I honestly don't even know how to process all of this. Between my dad's cancer, his confession of an affair 15 years ago and now my mom maybe having cancer? In a dark way, it's almost become comical. Nothing fazes me anymore and I just laugh at awful news now because it's become so ridiculous.

    Anyhey. Life is swell and I can't wait to see Green Day in 12 more days.

  22. What I Lost

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    Recent Entries

    I have a new blog post up on my new website: www.whatilost.net

    Again, it's about losing 93 pounds over the past year. Enjoy!


  23. Comrade
    Latest Entry

    Somehow I've suddenly not posted any writing here for coming up to a year.

    EDIT: I liked this when I saw it again and did a little rewrite, changed up the middle stanza and made it a little more reflective. I like it. I've not been writing much - I've not had vast amounts of inspiration - but the more my year in Sheffield fades in the rear view mirror the more I'm drawing from it, the more I see it did for me. 



    Northern Soul 


    Said she was down from Glasgow  

    And out looking for a bit of a rascal  

    Who’s up for dancing all night on the tables; 

    Someone who ain’t all hung up on social labels,  

    She’s dressed up to the nineteen nineties; 

    Cargo pants and an orange velvet crop top 

    She got for cheap in a Dev Street second hand shop, 

    Matches her hair, could make the night stop 

    She thought “I - I can see it in his eyes, 

    He’s only in it for the prize” 

    But Oh darling I –  

    I see it in your eyes 

    ‘Cross all the spilled beers you look alive. 

    Can I take you home? 


    And I can't promise if you come 'round tonight  

    That you're gunna have the night of your life.   

    And you know this isn't more than it seems;  

    I never said it, but you know where I've been,  

    You've been there too, so try me tonight. 

    Your mates are jealous and they're off picking fights.  

    When I see you there's one thing that I know; 

    You've got some spirit, you've got a northern soul... 


    All linked arms singing Come On Eileen 

    During the verses I catch her eyeing me  

    While her friend’s friend makes his move and  

    Leans in for the kiss and only gets his girls’ hand… 

    In mine, she turns around 

    The whole crowd cheers us on,  

    We forget about the song… 

    And Darling I –  

    I see a little green in your eyes 

    On this night, in this light you look alive  

    Oh let’s go home? 


    “I like that you seem suave… 

    Tell me all your stories 

    And we’ll stay up ‘till the morning” 

    Oh Darling I –  

    I kissed her body and I told her  

    All the things that make me older  

    And she laughed 

    And rolled a little closer; 

    “This’ll just be another story!” 

    Darling I 

    Feel so alive.