you_hear_what_you_want_to_hear raze it was one of those house shows where everyone was drunk or high or both. some guy i didn't know and would never see again offered me a swig of his forty when he didn't see a beer in my hand. "can't have you drinking gatorade over here," he said. i loved gatorade. especially the orange stuff. it never tasted better than when i was a kid and it was summer and they were still selling it in glass bottles. but i didn't tell him that. in the coach house, cliff was listening to mix tapes and trying to get his legs back after drinking all his equilibrium away. tyson taped a note to the front_door begging the neighbours not to call the cops. gord sat in on bass and aced the assignment without a single rehearsal. one song stood out in a sea of nameless noise. i heard mike scream, "i don't want to die," in the middle of a breakdown and it shook something loose inside of me. even_then, i was sure those weren't the lyrics he'd written. i was only hearing what i thought was a lie when i held it in my own heart, not knowing time would twist it into something true. 251110 what's it to you? who go blather from