sooner had I packed away all the super fan thoughts about Walking Disaster than I had to manufacture over-the-top enthusiasm for a totally different band. What I felt for Theater of the Absurd did qualify as serious fandom. I had all their albums. I’d covered them plenty on my blog since they were considered a “Related Artist.”
But until Monday, I hadn’t known the name of the drummer.
Meanwhile, I could hold a ten-minute conversation about whether or not Walking Disaster’s drummer, Hervé Diaz, had gotten liposuction after the most recent tour. I’d even unearthed video from when Adam drummed for the band, back before they’d changed the lineup and the name of the band from The Pickup Artists. I could discuss the stylistic differences between Adam and Hervé. My level of fandom for Walking Disaster bordered on obsession, and although I could tell you I wasn’t a crazy person, anyone who wasn’t a part of our community might say otherwise. I knew too much.
Did Lars expect that level of excitement for Theater of the Absurd? Or did he even know that level existed?
I could only do what I could. In addition to the new song I’d already added, I uploaded the two covers, since Micah had asked me to, plus a couple of their old songs and some of the less explosive bantering to my post. Then I set about bragging and gushing, like the biggest fanatic that ever fanned.
I hit save to draft and forwarded the link over to Lars for his approval. I didn’t think I could enthuse any more than that. On the plus side, maybe it would make Shane think I loved his band the most. On the minus side, it was going to make him wonder if I might be a little overinvested. Particularly in his bandmates. I knew what Lars wanted. I’d been doing this too long not to know what a fan experience sounded like.
With a free moment, I finally placed a call to Zion.
“Hey, it’s Layla!” My phone anxiety threatened to shut me down. “We met the other night? At Adam’s?”
“Oh, Layla. How are you?” His enthusiasm didn’t match my own.
“Um, so, Jo mentioned you might have an extra room to rent.” I chewed on my lower lip, fighting against the awkward hesitation. “I was wondering if you’re looking for a roommate.”
“Right. Jo said you might call.”
I waited a beat, tapping my fingernails on the desktop. “Of course, I can check craigslist if you’d rather not room with a total stranger.”
“No, don’t do that.” An exhale followed. “You met Andrew, right?”
“Yes. The other night.”
“It’s just that he’s got his stuff all over the apartment right now.”
“Oh. I understand.” My face flushed with the sting of rejection.
“He’ll be going out of town in a couple of days though, and he normally stays at his own place anyway, so if you can maybe tread water for a few days?”
“Of course!” My heart sank. I was sure Jo would let me stay a bit longer, but this was no way to live. I should have let my dad come help me find my own space. I was practically homeless.
“Can you swing by next week?”
“Yup.” What else could I say? “Thanks, Zion. I appreciate it.”
“Sorry I can’t be more hospitable. Timing.”
“No worries. I’ll be in touch.”
As I hung up, I got a response from Lars. Perfection. Let’s post it on Monday. My mood rebounded. I was on an emotional trampoline lately.
Publishing under my own name meant my online family wouldn’t recognize it as me, the persona they knew as Pumpkin. It was petty to want their praise and congratulations on top of everything else, so I swallowed those feelings. I was plenty lucky with what I’d been able to do.
Speaking of which, I made a quick perusal of the fan forum, made sure the drama on the blog comments had stopped at some point, and then checked my private messages. That Sandman guy was back.
So, I went to the comments section like you told me to. I see that I’m not alone in my disregard for your shallow opinions. Maybe you’ll figure out that reviews should be left to the professionals.
I should have left it alone. He wanted attention, but I could never resist sparring with the assholes. Not to mention, I’d been involved in a lot of shenanigans over the years, and my spidey senses were tingling.
One time, a competing forum started stealing our best concert photos and claiming them as their own. It became a