Gossip [&] the Devil

remnants of ages past.

[Parts one and two, in case you missed them. There won't be snarky links in this one. I'd rather you actually read. xxoo]

They were here. I felt like I’d died waiting in line, fiery heart rolling to a frozen beat. My life had ended. My life began again. In that moment I was brand new, my first phoenix-kiss.

The shivering kingdom rose to greet the king we’d just spent hours discussing, measuring out the severity of self-inflicted scars, swapping stories of loss and abuse, alienation, chain-smoked cigarettes even at that young age; it all culminated to this point, this one moment where we knew it was real. We rejoiced, our numb fingers raised in appreciation, Styrofoam cups thrown to the side in favor of clutching chests, heads, faces and vinyls.

We lined up and began the countdown all over again, rows of people wrapped around shelves of CD’s, plastic and paper walls keeping us from a little table set up at the far end of the store. Even inside the tiny building you couldn’t see them for the sea of people, posters and space, but I knew they were there. I rounded a rack of t-shirts and was promptly greeted with the sight of Billy’s bald head and immediately started to cry. Up until that point, I’d never known what it felt like to cry from sheer happiness.  I hated crying. I still do. I grabbed my boyfriend and tried to breathe. Looking back I sort of blush, but at the time it was quite possibly the only plausible reaction my over-stimulated 14-year-old brain could have produced. The whole thing was insanely beautiful.

I approached the table, the order burned into memory: Melissa Auf Der Maur, James Iha, Jimmy Chamberlain and, finally, Billy Corgan. Melissa signed my “Adore” booklet, though it irritated me she wasn’t on the album. James scribbled his name on an obnoxiously huge picture of him, writing the word “sexy” next to his face. Jimmy signed a plastic insert saying “Smashing Pumpkins” that I’d stolen from a record store back home.

This isn't mine, I wasn't able to snap a picture thanks to security. I stumbled across this on smashingpumpkins.com, a user there had attended the same signing. I can't remember their name, but if you're reading, email me and I'll gladly credit you.

Billy, however, was a different beast. It’s always hard when you put so much emotion, so much stock into a single character, and, make no mistake, he was a character to me at the time. He was SUPERHERO BILLY CORGAN LEAD SINGER EXTRAORDINAIRE–SAVER OF LIVES AND SANITY. I’d put so much on him that when I finally came face to face with just “Billy Corgan,” tall, gangly and appreciative, I was taken aback,  mouth moving but forming nothing. I was dressed in ugly red cheeks, a runny nose and flat hair. Finally I managed out:

“I’ve been waiting seven hours and I’m freezing and starving and have no money and just thank you so much for who you are.”

Those were my great words of wisdom to my first and most moving muse. I had no fucking clue what else to say.

He sort of blinked at me, shockingly blue eyes registering a firecracker hint of confusion before standing to give me a hug and kiss my cheek. He stood back and began to dig through his pockets, producing a few used Trident gum wrappers, his cell phone and three dollars. He slid the money across the table to me.

“Well, here.”  I just stared, bewildered and sniffling.

“Excuse me?”

“Here. Its all the cash I’ve got on me. Go buy some eggs and ham, or…something.” He shrugged and smiled. I carefully took  his money and sniffled again.

Did Billy Corgan just give me money to eat? What the hell? I stared at his hands for a long time until the Storm Trooper security guard grunted in irritation.

Again, this isn't mine, I stole this from the same user over at smashingpumpkins.com. Again, if you have issues, email me and I'll credit you.

Don’t fuck with me right now, I thought. I’m having a moment. And that moment has lasted for over 10 years.

I thought my journey was over. But we hadn’t made it home–yet.