trouble in harajuku paradise

Disclaimer: Got less than three hours of sleep. Been HTML-ing all night and all early-today so forgive me if my weblog seems fictional. I can't really vouch for it's authenticity.

Yay! The first phase of curing my blog-addiction is over and I passed with semi-flying colors. I wanted to not visit my blog at all but I sorta chcked my chatterbox for cool people. Anyways, the challenge was not to blog so that being accomplished, I can tell you all about my day.

You can probably tell that my hands are aching from writing in my print journal all day. But here are a couple of highlights from yesterday.

I went to the dentist to get my tooth fixed. Blah blah blah boring boring boring.

I was in the stylist's shabby chic (shabisheek) boutique yesterday trying on some clothes for next week's album studio pictorial. I asked her what look she wanted for me and after a throng of "PoMo"s and "shabby chic" she said "I'm gonna make you the new Jewel."

"No way, that's not gonna happen."

"This is the look the record label approved of."

"No way, G. If the record labels always got their way, Norah Jones would be a friggin' disco diva by now." Yeah, it's a true story. Don't Know Why was slated for release as a dance hit.

She was all flustered and said "We're only going for the best look you can handle" She said, mapping stardom with her shabby chic hands. "And besides, didn't you say you like Jewel?"

"Yeah, duh. Pieces of You Jewel not Follow your heeaaaaaart Jewel!" And then I was all like "Plus, everyone says that so they can (whisper) look smart! Just look at Kitchie!"

She was nodding and stuff and then my phone started to ring.

It was David (Foster) and he called for the umpteenth time today to remind me of my "priorities". He says I should come up with the songs that I promised him I'd write for my major record label debut. Yeah, the first few demos I did and the independent first record of my ex-band Harajuku doesn't really count.

He's so chatty on the phone, making me feel guilty by saying stuff like "I never had this problem with Michael Bublé!"

I'm like "Duh, he's Canadian!".

He seemed to take offense so I said "Sorry D. (I call him D) It's just that I'm under a lot of stress right now with my work and all." I bored him to death about my layout gig and the dentist and how my blogging has to come first.

He's all like "Your career should be your top priority. We have to strike while the iron is hot! The music industry today is riddled with talent-less singer/songwriters so there's always room for one more!"

I'm like "I'm not sure I can trust you, D. What makes you think I think you have my career in your priorities"

He was silent, probably confused by my sentence construction. "I'm gonna do to you what I did to the _____ (my lawyer asked me to take that out). I'm gonna make the whole world believe you can write songs and carry a decent tune with it until you come out with your fifteenth album and they realize you can't write for shit."

I didn't know what to say. After all, the _____ are one of my favorite groups. Could he do to me what he did for them? The writing on their last album truly was crap.

I was all confused and stuff so I said "D, it's getting really late and I have to finish HTML-ing my website for cyber piracy."

He said "Okay, lemme know if you've got any new stuff. My iPod's getting kinda lonely."

All night, I was thinking of what David said and I wasn't sure how to react, basically. I knew my career should come first but then I've got so much stuff to do like look for the missing cat or locate my missing Smallville soundtrack and/or clean out my navel lint... After HTML-ing for a long time, I decided to sleep. It was about 4, I think.

I woke up on the floor again. I've got a meeting with the publicist and the stylist is going to dress me up in "better clothes". I could hear the floorboards creaking with people moving around outside my room. It was then that I got the idea for my first song. And to think I didn't need Lauren Christy, John Rzeznik, or the 4 Non Blondes to come up with it.

It used to be called "The Girl Was You" but my stylist G said it sounded too boyband-y and I agree so now it's called "Was You". The tune is a little bit iffy right now. D is so gonna kill me if he sees this post. Oh well, he knew what he was getting into when he signed up a blogger.

I lie steadily with my head on the floor
Listening to the house moan as you walk out the door
And all that I have of you is all that you've left of me
The sound of the floorboards have once again rocked me to sleep

So who cares if you're not coming back?
The avenues are lined up with heartaches of past
It's not like a girl leaving a boy is new
But this is the first time that the girl was you.

I lie steadily with my heart on the ground
Listening for he moment that you'll come around
The floorboards that creak and moan will sing me a new song
But until that day all I can do is lie on the floor

Okay, so the meter is iffy. The lyrics need editing, nay abject cutting!. The tune sounds like a Lifehouse rip-off (don't all songs sound like something else?) and I probably should add a couple more lines here and there but basically, this is my first single. I'm thinking of releasing it first in Japan, just to spite my ex-Harajuku band mates (Lust, Demon, Rap, Tiyanak). Gwen must be so proud.

Okay, enough. This post is getting to wordy and I'm tired of trying to sound like a teenage hooker (I'm like and he was like so we were like, duh!) so I'll leave you with this final note: Sol#

Ha ha ha… Misery loves company.


  1. lemme start these comments because no one seem to do them anymore :c

    who can guess the singer that i deleted?

    clues from the post:
    1. got a helping had from David Foster in the past
    2. can carry a decent tune
    3. THEY meaning not just one person, ergo a group or a band
    4. can't write for shit anymore. their new songs are fugly

    last clue: do the words "i'm gonna get stage fright, caught in the headlights" mean anything to you? maybe argee can help you out! :D

  2. i like the song. ang sentimental (sniff, sniff)

  3. i came along
    i wrote a song for you
    and all the things you do
    and it was called yellow

    this post in an obvious disguise of how sullen i feel.

    why hasn't she called me back?
    writing songs makes me sullen especially when they're that horrible.


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