I'm not looking for the sun to shine today

Describe a Chance Encounter

Tue, 23 May 2006 03:38:41 GMT

So. I’m sitting on a bench. It’s hard and uncomfortable and I’m scared shitless because my lawyer’s not here yet. I’ve stolen another car. This is my second offence. I’m 12 fucking years old.

It’s not something I do because I saw it on tv, or because I want to be cool, or any other stupid reason like that. It’s because I need the money, because I’m saving up to run away. I’ve tried running away before, without money, and it ended badly to put it lightly. Being on the streets, being 12, being broke – these are things that do not go together.

So I learned to steal cars. It’s really pretty easy. Cars back then weren’t like cars now. They don’t come with all these fancy alarms and automatic locks and who knows what the fuck else. You wanted to break into a car – you broke the fucking window and that was it. Sometimes the person would even leave the key in the car’s sunguard or in the glove department. Every once in a while you had to hotwire the thing, you reach under the dash and pull away the plastic or sometimes the wires are even exposed. Guts and fire right there under your fingers. You connect red wire to red wire and the ignition starts and you hold together with gum and you’re done. You’re a crook.

I learned how from my brother.

But yeah – my chance encounter. I’m sitting there on the bench in court, and I’m waiting for my lawyer to show up. He’s twenty-five minutes late and my trial starts in fifteen. I might get time, I might have to go to juvie. My parents are nowhere in sight but that’s nothing new. It’s while I’m sitting there, looking at my shoes (and my feet almost don’t touch the floor), when someone sits down beside me.

I look to my right, just outta habit, and it’s some kid – my age – with black hair and a fierce grin. He don’t look scared, but then later I find out it’s for vandalism. That’s a fine at most. And his parents are with him, both sitting to his right.

He only has eyes for me though. And I grin back because, well, if you saw that smile of his you’d know why. Just something about it.

If I gotta tell you who it is I met that day, you haven’t been paying attention.

Write about your father

Mon, 13 Mar 2006 05:02:04 GMT

So my old man, his name was Mark William Boisy. I don’t remember him too well, he fucked off when I was about five years old and I haven’t heard from him since. From the way ma used to talk, it seems a good bet he’s in jail or dead. I don’t know and I don’t give a shit. I can’t miss someone I hardly remember.

Although when I was a kid I spent a lot of time thinking about him … thinking about who he could be. The stupid kid stuff you tell yourself so you can forget the truth, that he just didn’t give a shit about you. That he left because he didn’t care.

But you tell yourself he’s an international spy, or that he’s an astronaut, or that the mob kidnapped him and he can’t get away.

You lie and you believe and you repeat.

What I do remember about him is the boring every day shit – like eating cereal together at breakfast, the top of his head showing over his newspaper, the grey t-shirts he wore. He had good hands, but his fingernails were always dirty and bitten down. Sometimes he’d chew ‘em at the table and ma would yell at him and he’d laugh and spit the bits onto her plate.

He was fucking disgusting. But he was my dad.

The fucker who my mom re-married later, he liked it when I called him that. But he wasn’t.

I hate Mark for leaving. I hate ma for re-marrying. I hate the bastard who came into my life when I was six and stayed there and is still there and I’ll never get rid of him ever.

Fathers? Fuck that. Fuck it.

Character: Billy Tallent
Fandom: Hard Core Logo
Word Count: 287

Write a letter to anyone about anything

Mon, 16 Jan 2006 19:10:13 GMT

To Joe Dick,

It's scary as fucking Hell in your head, Joe, you know that?

There's a lot of shit going on there and some of it I knew already and some of it I didn't, and some of it I only suspected. Some all three. Like, I didn't know you planned on killing me during the tour, although I kinda suspected because that's the kind of fucker you are. And hell, I went anyway because that’s the kind of fucker *I* am. But I knew after I saw the videotape, after I saw Bruce's fucking documentary, and I saw you pull that gun out from under your arm when my back was turned and we were talking in the hallway.

It made more sense - you killing yourself, after that. Desperation’s a hard thing to shake and I think we both know a lot about being desperate.

There's one thing I did always want to make clear to you, Joe, one thing I never knew if you understood or not.

I never would have left if I thought you'd fucking kill yourself. Not the first time, not the second time. I think a lot of people think I should have known, or that I *did* know and that I just didn't care. And I don't give a fuck what those people think, but I do care what *you* think - and Joe, I never would have fucking left if I thought for a moment you'd do that shit, I hope to God you believe me. If there’s anything I fucking want in this world, it’s for you to believe me when I say that.

And as for your fucking reasons for faking it – you can take your reasons and you can stick them up your fucking ass. It’s not that I don’t fucking believe you, you fucking cunt, it’s that THEY’RE NOT FUCKING GOOD ENOUGH.

Nothing is good enough for fucking making me think that you were dead and that it was my fault. You got any idea how close we came to some goddamn Shakespearean tragedy here, you fucking bastard? Ten years of guilt, of Hell, of thinking about you every damn day and hating myself so much because I wish I’d done it a bit different, I wish I’d gotten to you first, I wish this and that.

I wanted to stand over Bruce’s fucking corpse with a goddamn shovel.

That time, those first couple of years, the only thing that stopped me was Billie.

After the hurdle of those first couple of years a person can live with anything.

Which brings me to who you addressed your letter to, Joseph Mulgrew. You’re so right when you say Bill Boisy is dead although I think he might have died a lot sooner than you think. Around six or seven maybe, when his old man fucked off and his mom got the new boyfriend. It was before Joseph Mulgrew ever came into his fucked up life and saved it. That kid I once was a million and a half years ago, he was fucked up and his life wasn’t going anywhere. *He* wasn’t going anywhere. He’d never be happy, Joe, not with what he had going for him and against him.
It was fucking easy then for me. I had things very black and white. I don’t want to talk about it but I had my life mapped out already and none of it really involved longevity or … anything, really, much less music. Then I met you and you somehow changed that for me. It got better, and I could finally get out of that house and away from those people. Joseph Mulgrew saved my life and I don’t think he ever knew it.

We had good times, Joe. You’re wrong when you say that Bill Boisy never used Joe Mulgrew because he did, even if he didn’t mean to do it. He used him so he could have a fucking life. But I wanted that life with you, Joe.

I love you, too. You say it way more than me, but I do. Have. Will. Just consider it a given, Joe. I’m not as good with words as you, I never fucking will be, but there you go.

(Yeah, what you said),
Bill.

Write a letter to yourself as a child

Thu, 08 Dec 2005 07:50:44 GMT

Dear William,

I know things are hard now. It's a bitch to wake up in the mornings, isn't it? It's a bitch to get through the day. I know you can't breathe sometimes, you don't feel like there's anyway to get away from it, to escape. You stole that car 'cause you thought maybe you'd get somewhere, even though you didn't know how to drive. Too bad juvie wasn't much better than home or school.

I don't have any optimism for you, William Boisy, I don't got much for you at all. But in a couple of years you'll meet a guy, and you'll think he's a real freak at first, but he'll be the best thing that ever happens to you. He'll love you more than anyone, and you'll love him, too. I'm not joking.

But, because you're a fucktard, you'll screw it up. You'll screw it up and something awful will happen and you'll spend 10 fucking years miserable, depressed, and having bad thoughts.

But it'll get better.

Muse: Billy Tallent
Fandom: Hard Core Logo
Words: 170

It's all about the music, bay-bee

Thu, 08 Dec 2005 07:13:21 GMT

I usually hate these fucking things, but I'm all about educating the people with some good music:

Instructions: List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what the genre, whether they have words, or even if they're any good, but they must be songs you're really enjoying now. Post these instructions in your Livejournal along with your seven songs. Then tag seven other people to see what they're listening to.

In no particular order:

1. Mr. Brownstone (Guns n' Roses)

2. Miami (Against Me)

3. As I Watch the Sun fuck the Ocean (Boy Hits Car)

4. Crawling in the Dark (Hoobastank)

5. Bother (Stone Sour)

6. Dark Night (The Blasters)

7. Clash, Culture, and Violence (Rancid)

Honorable Mention:

8. Cut the Curtains (Billy Talent)

Talk about something you did that made you feel ashamed of yourself aftewards

Fri, 21 Oct 2005 12:52:15 GMT

Would it be cheating to say I have no fucking shame? Yeah, I suppose it would be, that's more Joe's thing anyway.

The truth is I'm not very apologetic about most things. It's not that I don't have my share of regrets, I sure as fuck do, but most of the time what's done is done, y'know? If you live through your mistakes then what more could you fucking want? 'Cause I'll tell you right now I've had some fucking close calls on that one.

Shame though... okay. I have one. The big one.

Billy slips the fax into his pocket and rubs his palms against his jeans. So he's going to do this; he's already decided. He's going to fucking take the Jenifur gig and fuck what he told Joe. He doesn't fool himself into thinking Joe'll understand, but maybe they could work out some kind of compromise. Hard Core Logo can be a side gig, they usually only worked a couple of tours out of the year anyway, played a few clubs here and there in between, Billy's pretty sure he can pull that off.

And hey, if Jenifur has a few more pressing matters, Billy's pretty sure Joe'll get used to that, too. Or at least accept it. Billy's all about eating his Kate and Edith, too.

It'll be tough though, telling him. Billy knows Joe has a tendency to lose his shit in situations like this, even if he's not usually the temperamental half of the relationship. Billy needs to find just the right words and needs to find just the right way to say them. Maybe after a few drinks, a few fuck sessions in the back of the van after the gig. He'll let Joe down nice and easy; dismantle the bomb before it has a time to start ticking. Billy'll think on it, he's sure something will come to him.

In the meantime, he tells Bruce he has to take a leak and instead sneaks out the back of the radio station. He puts a cigarette in his mouth and let's it sit on his bottom lip as he takes the fax out of his pocket and reads it one more time.

Festus is a smug bastard even when he's talking on paper.

Billy lights the corner on fire, watches it burn for a moment, then leans in and lights his cigarette with the flame.

He doesn't let it go fast enough and it singes the tips of his fingers. Billy drops it and watches it dampen into extinguish into the gray slush.

Fandom: Hard Core Logo
Word Count: 430

OOC: Profile meme

Wed, 19 Oct 2005 03:53:54 GMT

I've seen this in a few other journals and thought it would be a good way to get a better feel for Billy. Somewhat rambling and unfocused thoughts behind the cut :)

Name: Born William Boisy, but would eventually take on the name "Billy Tallent" at age 16. For legal purposes he still goes by Boisy.
Nicknames: Billy Hollywood, Billiam, William, Bill. All used by Joe for the most part, if anyone else tries to call him 'Billiam' he tends to get pissy.
Age: Mid-forties.

Psychology

IQ: The day they distributed the IQ tests in high school, Joe and Billy skipped class together and got high by the creek behind the school. Billy's smart, but got bad marks in school, mostly because he never tried or showed up. He has a good business mind, and can be be pretty focused when he wants to be.
Phobias/Fears: Falling off the wagon (again), the gutter, something happening to his hands.
Religious Beliefs: Atheist.
Intolerances/Annoyances: Posers, wannabes, people who don't shut the fuck up, Mary, Mary's fucktard husband, liars, Ed Festus, strangers asking questions about his daughter, people who try to pick fights or get a rise out of him, people's he's never met before assuming to know shit about him, men who beat on women. The list, really, can go on and on.
Quirks/Habits: Smokes like a chimney, has a tendancy to repeat himself when he's worked up about something, used to be into booze and drugs but has quit twice and has been sober for ten years now. Has a tendancy to judge, use, and dismiss people how he sees fit. You only get one chance with Billy Tallent.

Family

Parents: His father left when he was still too young to really remember him, and his mother had a live-in boyfriend named Jimmy who fucked with Billy a lot; physically and sometimes even sexually, although Billy hasn't told anyone about it, not even Joe. Billy's mom is a little crazy and doesn't care too much about her son, and Billy was pretty much left to come and go as he pleased, although he had to take on a lot of the household chores like cleaning and grocery shopping.
Siblings: One older brother named Chris who Billy absolutely adored, loved like he'd never loved anyone until he met Joe. It was through Chris that Billy and Joe met Pipefitter, completing their quartet. When Billy was 17, Chris' car got hit by a drunk driver and he died before the ambulance could arrive.
Spouse/Serious Lover: None. Kinda. Joe comes close but Billy's not sure if he'd consider him a spouse or a lover. Joe's just Joe.
Children: One, a daughter named Billie that he had with a groupie. Billy didn't find out he had a daughter until the reunion tour, when she was already about 4/5 years old.

Present Background

Occupation: Guitar player with Jenifur.
Education: At the most high school, at the least, a drop-out. Most likely a drop-out.
Activities: Music, music, smoking, music.
Home: Los Angeles, California. At first he loved it, but now he misses Canada, but LA is where he's needed.
Friends: None really. Billy doesn't really have tolerance for many people, if he's honest with himself he sees them as a waste of time, not worth knowing, or beneath him. He has Joe, he likes Joe. He sticks to what he knows.
Finances: Went from dirt poor to filthy rich, thanks to Jenifur.

Appearance

Height: 6
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Dark blond
Face & Complexion: Pretty. He's very, very pretty. Although he has outgrown it somewhat now, it was something he got a lot of slack for.
Build: "Heroin chic".
Defining Marks: A "champion" tattoo on his shoulder.
Dress Style: He thinks carefully about what he wears, although what he wears is never trendy or expensive. He knows what looks good on him and he keeps it simple: t-shirts, jeans, sweatshirts, sweaters, jackets. Billy likes layers because he's almost always cold. He likes browns, greys, black, and greens. Neutral colours.
Manner of Speech: Swears a lot, is sarcastic, likes to mock people when he gets really pissed off. Occasionally, his Canadian accent becomes very pronounced, particularly when he's upset, and he has a tendancy to repeat himself.
Manner of Movement: Aggressive and jerky on stage, thrashing his arms and occasionally even head-banging. Off-stage he's more relaxed, laid back. He likes to splay himself over furninture. Under it all he's smooth and kinetic; zen.

Romantic

Marital Status: Single.
Sexual Preference: He likes women, for the most part, although he's been with Joe too long and too many times to really be strictly straight.
Past Relationships: Joe. And that's pretty much it. He wouldn't call Mary a relationship.
Present Relationships: Joe. Maybe.

Introductions

Sun, 16 Oct 2005 04:42:01 GMT

Billy Tallent, guitar player. I used to play for Hard Core Logo, but then the lead singer faked his death and things sort of fell apart. Go figure. Now I play for Jenifur, and they're better than some people will tell you. They're definitely better since I joined. Our last album went triple platinum, and last year we went on our first overseas tour. Things are good for what they are. I'm fucking the drummer.

I have a kid who I see a few weeks out of the summer, and I have a secret college fund for her that I won't let her mom touch. She calls me dad, but she calls Mary's husband 'dad', too, so I guess I'm bitter about that. I have dreams where I kidnap her, and we live somewhere in a house with a dog, and a backyard. Then I wake up screaming. I want to do right by her, but I have no idea what 'right' is. Which is something a lot of people would agree with me on.

I only feel good when I'm playing a guitar.

Who do you need to forgive?

Sun, 16 Oct 2005 04:19:43 GMT

I bet you think you know the answer to this question, but you don't. I forgave him a long time ago, even though I may be a little more angry than I sometimes let on. Or even more angry than I do let on.

Joe Dick did me wrong, yeah, and it's all a sad, sad song, but I did him wrong, too. And I've come to grips with both sides of it. That's the thing about friendship, you learn to forgive all the little things and all the big things, and you keep going from there. At least, that's how it is with me and Joe. Or that's how it was. I don't know. Do I use past tense here?

Maybe I'm fucking crazy. Maybe we are a tanked-up, white trash married couple, and we take turns at playing the abused wife. But there you go.

So yeah, I don't need to forgive Joe Dick, and I don't need to forgive myself either. I'm accountable for my own mistakes enough as it is, and I don't need to complicate it by playing like they're okay.

But there is one person I do need to forgive:

Mary.

You're a fucking bitch, you're a cunt, and I fucking hate you more than I've ever hated anyone. And I'm an angry guy, I've hated a lot of fucking people. No one's ever done to me what you've done, though. No one's ever ripped me apart like you've done. And you sure as fuck had a lot of nerve, too, bringing her to the show, letting me see her, letting me touch her, letting me know her for those few minutes before taking her away again.

And you knew, you bitch, you knew that I'd know. You fucking named her after me. I don't know why you did that to me, why you chose then. I don't know why you didn't just stay far the fuck away. Maybe you thought I wouldn't care, maybe you thought I'd just brush it off. Or maybe you figured something else out, 'cause you sure ran out of there pretty fast, without so much as a goodbye.

Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever find someone who doesn't like fucking with my head.

Mary. One fucking night a million years ago, and it ended with a daughter.

But as much as I hate you, I can't blame you. I sure as Hell wouldn't want me for a father, especially the me that you knew, the one that knocked you up. And looking at Billie, I know I couldn't have given her anything better. I think I probably would have ruined her.

I need to forgive you, Mary, because you don't deserve my anger.

I just don't know if I can.

Muse: Billy Tallent
Fandom: Hard Core Logo
Count: 461