Status: Finished
Killing Loneliness
Sleepwalking past hope
Ville’s PoV
I throw another piece of paper into the trashcan before lightning a cigarette. In 2 months I’m going to the studio to record a new album with the guys but I’ve got a huge case of writers block now. Great. I look at the few lyrics I’ve written a while ago.
They had been rejected because they needed some work but I’m considering bringing them along when I go to the studio. I can’t show up empty handed and unless this writers block magically disappears, I don’t have much of a choice. I grab another old lyric and start to read.
“My angel, my darling etc.,” I mumble to myself before groaning. I obviously wrote that for my ex-muse Jonna but she’s gone now, along with my believe in love. Why did I ever start writing such romantic songs? Now all the fans love them and expect me to continue to write them, even though I changed from hopelessly romantic to hopelessly cynical.
My thoughts are disturbed by my cell phone.
“Hei?”
“Hei Ville, it’s Linde.”
“What’s up?”
“Nothing much. How’s the song writing going?”
“Honestly? Shit.”
“ You know that Seppo is going to kill you if you haven’t got any new material by the time we start recording, right?
“Yeah, thanks for reminding me."
"Come on, it can’t be that bad.”
“ Nope, it’s worse.”
“ Here’s my advice Ville: stop forcing yourself to write for a while because it’ll be crap. Go outside, stop locking yourself away from the world.”
“ How do you know I’ve locked myself up in my room?”
“ It’s me you’re talking to Ville. I bet you’re sitting on your oldest couch right now, surrounded by pieces of paper, cigarette stubs, boxes and wrappers of take away food and empty glasses.”
I sigh.
“You’re right Linde.”
“Of course I am. Come on, it’s time to enjoy your life again mr. melancholic .”
Georgia’s PoV
After doing some paperwork, I put on a James Brown cd and grab the latest copy of the Rolling Stone Magazine. When I read an article about the Finnish band HIM and yes, before you ask, I have a large taste in music, the phone rings.
“Georgia speaking.”
“Hi, it’s Misha. Tomorrow I’m going to Helsinki, Finland for a job. You know I hate the cold so you’re going to suffer with me.”
"Wait, what?! Couldn’t you have asked me sooner?”
“Sorry, no. I got the 2 spare tickets from my boss today. Come on , you need a break from work, you’re pretty much addicted to it.”
“I have a busy job Misha.”
“It’s august, everyone is taking their holidays now. It’s cucumber time so even you can’t be that busy. You earn enough cash to pay for the food and that’s all I’m asking from you, I’ve already got the tickets and the hotel rooms and Janey is coming too.”
“ I can’t say no, can’t I?
“Nope.”
“ Alright, let’s go to Finland!”
“That’s the spirit. Janey is picking us up at noon tomorrow. Go start packing!"
I throw another piece of paper into the trashcan before lightning a cigarette. In 2 months I’m going to the studio to record a new album with the guys but I’ve got a huge case of writers block now. Great. I look at the few lyrics I’ve written a while ago.
They had been rejected because they needed some work but I’m considering bringing them along when I go to the studio. I can’t show up empty handed and unless this writers block magically disappears, I don’t have much of a choice. I grab another old lyric and start to read.
“My angel, my darling etc.,” I mumble to myself before groaning. I obviously wrote that for my ex-muse Jonna but she’s gone now, along with my believe in love. Why did I ever start writing such romantic songs? Now all the fans love them and expect me to continue to write them, even though I changed from hopelessly romantic to hopelessly cynical.
My thoughts are disturbed by my cell phone.
“Hei?”
“Hei Ville, it’s Linde.”
“What’s up?”
“Nothing much. How’s the song writing going?”
“Honestly? Shit.”
“ You know that Seppo is going to kill you if you haven’t got any new material by the time we start recording, right?
“Yeah, thanks for reminding me."
"Come on, it can’t be that bad.”
“ Nope, it’s worse.”
“ Here’s my advice Ville: stop forcing yourself to write for a while because it’ll be crap. Go outside, stop locking yourself away from the world.”
“ How do you know I’ve locked myself up in my room?”
“ It’s me you’re talking to Ville. I bet you’re sitting on your oldest couch right now, surrounded by pieces of paper, cigarette stubs, boxes and wrappers of take away food and empty glasses.”
I sigh.
“You’re right Linde.”
“Of course I am. Come on, it’s time to enjoy your life again mr. melancholic .”
Georgia’s PoV
After doing some paperwork, I put on a James Brown cd and grab the latest copy of the Rolling Stone Magazine. When I read an article about the Finnish band HIM and yes, before you ask, I have a large taste in music, the phone rings.
“Georgia speaking.”
“Hi, it’s Misha. Tomorrow I’m going to Helsinki, Finland for a job. You know I hate the cold so you’re going to suffer with me.”
"Wait, what?! Couldn’t you have asked me sooner?”
“Sorry, no. I got the 2 spare tickets from my boss today. Come on , you need a break from work, you’re pretty much addicted to it.”
“I have a busy job Misha.”
“It’s august, everyone is taking their holidays now. It’s cucumber time so even you can’t be that busy. You earn enough cash to pay for the food and that’s all I’m asking from you, I’ve already got the tickets and the hotel rooms and Janey is coming too.”
“ I can’t say no, can’t I?
“Nope.”
“ Alright, let’s go to Finland!”
“That’s the spirit. Janey is picking us up at noon tomorrow. Go start packing!"