Friends Only

[rubyredstained]

It just fucking hit me that I am in the process of helping to create an album. That people are going to buy. Touring was one thing, because I have my gigs in the city that people come to, so I'm used to playing my mus for peeps, even if doing a metal concert is very different from a lovely gig in Trafalgar Square. But I have never ever had imput on something that was recorded and existed for people to play in their homes. Well. Besides the DVD and the live stuff...

It's weird. It's a heady feeling, but kind of frightening as well. Like...if I write shitty shite Spectre and his drogies might kick me out for being derivative or un-Prog, or all-around lame... Not that I think Spectre and his drogies are like that...

It feels a bit like responsibility. Which I'm actually good at when it comes to me, and a staff of thirteen at Mariposa. But being responsible to people...and to thousands of people all over the world? (I even have to friends-lock this because people read this now. I have fans...)

Holy.Fucking.Shit.

Comments

[un-amour-fatal.livejournal.com]

Mothers can be crazy, I know mine always was. She was a lot like me in the obvious ways but less so in that she had an impressive capacity for violence. (Never towards me though! My mum loved me like mad.) So wingnut probably beats out crazy-woman-who-thinks-she's-a-god. (Seriously, I adore her but she's really old and sort of nutty.)

[rubyredstained.livejournal.com]

Wow! Yeah, wingnut only ever does things like setting my formal dress on fire with her ritual candles. I wore the dress anyway of course, because the burned bit only made it better!

I think I'm part wingnut too!