Jack and I lie side by side. He knows something is not right. He grabs his guitar: “Hayley, tell me what’s wrong.” He strums an open A on the beater acoustic with stickers all over it. Everybody else is passed out Helter-Skelter style across seats. Earplugs are in to drown out our endless talking and playing and the horns and the wheels and the pedal and the breaks.
“I’m searching for something in between the lines of love…
but I don’t know what,” I sing say.
He hits a G, nods his head.
“Always needing here in this room called desolation, with a smile.”
Jack completes, then sings, fixing the melody a tad, then hits an A.
“The doctors of love are.” Me.
“Poking my ribs.” Jack.
“Telling me to spread.” Me.
“And I just can’t say no.” Jack.
He goes into a pre-chorus progression, playing harder and more angsty. I open and let it out all this pain of wandering everywhere.
“I just go, I just go, I just go…”
He goes back to the A. His hair falls in his face. He’s staring right at me as wheat or some kind of fields blur in the light of our bus and then get sucked in the black of the night without street lights, never to be seen again by us.
“I’ve turned myself into a postcard something I can sell.”
I close my eyes as I sing.
“…to the tourists.” Jack.
“People I don’t have to commit to.” Me.
“I am loved but thirsty.” Jack.
I feel the rhythm and let myself lose myself in the raw truths of my reality.
“With my panties half down, see the highways through the holes in my heart.”
Jack: “See the men reaching through, trying to souvenir a part.”
Me: “Just take what you want.”
We go into the pre-chorus together in perfect harmony:
“I just go, I just go, I just go…”
Jack stops. Licks his lips. “What now? What chord should we start the chorus on?” I tilt my head and feel and the words just come out: “Eleventh fret E-string and hold it there… It’ll add tension – then fourth fret, seventh fret, then eleventh fret for two rounds.”
He strums, tries it out; it feels perfect and strange. Always we complete each other’s thoughts. No one knows me more. He’s the body and I’m the wings. Together we really make something.
“Hayze… you should come in early with a little line so it starts on the E-flat and ends on the E-flat…” Ok. Well, huh – what’s true… what’s true right now for me? Hemmingway always said if you’re stuck just say one thing true…
“I’m losing myse-elf…” I sing.
We try out the timing until it fits in the pocket.
Then he sings that part with me:
“I’m losing myse-elf”
Donnie wakes up and starts to drum on the arm of his seat, his tats dancing fast up and down on his arms with the rhythm.
“Do you wanna me?” I sing.
“I’m losing myse-elf.” All of us.
“Objectify me…. I’m a woman machine.” Me.
We go for another hour and complete the song “Woman Machine” all with a wild solo and all. Diego yells from his perch, “When I add the base line, it’s gonna be a freaking hit.” We all agree: it’s going on our next album…
When the world has got you down and you can’t find the ground and everything is disappointing, sometimes I feel like the only thing that will understand me is a song with Jack.
All the pain can dissipate, even if only for a moment.
26 Feb. 1, 2007
Hello new city. Hello same party. Hello, goodbye, wake up, disappear. Where is Hayley in the whole drugs, sex, and rock-n-roll life dream thing? I miss Carter. It’s been only 6 weeks, and something is clearly wrong with me. I can’t fuck anybody else – and not because I haven’t tried. It’s just when I look at them, all I want to see are Carter’s eyes. The insane poetry of our bodies screaming to each other for more. I want to sleep. I want to be taken care of again, made to feel whole. We are more than halfway through the tour, and I can see that our lives are rabbit holes.
“I’m searching for something in between the lines of love…
but I don’t know what,” I sing say.
He hits a G, nods his head.
“Always needing here in this room called desolation, with a smile.”
Jack completes, then sings, fixing the melody a tad, then hits an A.
“The doctors of love are.” Me.
“Poking my ribs.” Jack.
“Telling me to spread.” Me.
“And I just can’t say no.” Jack.
He goes into a pre-chorus progression, playing harder and more angsty. I open and let it out all this pain of wandering everywhere.
“I just go, I just go, I just go…”
He goes back to the A. His hair falls in his face. He’s staring right at me as wheat or some kind of fields blur in the light of our bus and then get sucked in the black of the night without street lights, never to be seen again by us.
“I’ve turned myself into a postcard something I can sell.”
I close my eyes as I sing.
“…to the tourists.” Jack.
“People I don’t have to commit to.” Me.
“I am loved but thirsty.” Jack.
I feel the rhythm and let myself lose myself in the raw truths of my reality.
“With my panties half down, see the highways through the holes in my heart.”
Jack: “See the men reaching through, trying to souvenir a part.”
Me: “Just take what you want.”
We go into the pre-chorus together in perfect harmony:
“I just go, I just go, I just go…”
Jack stops. Licks his lips. “What now? What chord should we start the chorus on?” I tilt my head and feel and the words just come out: “Eleventh fret E-string and hold it there… It’ll add tension – then fourth fret, seventh fret, then eleventh fret for two rounds.”
He strums, tries it out; it feels perfect and strange. Always we complete each other’s thoughts. No one knows me more. He’s the body and I’m the wings. Together we really make something.
“Hayze… you should come in early with a little line so it starts on the E-flat and ends on the E-flat…” Ok. Well, huh – what’s true… what’s true right now for me? Hemmingway always said if you’re stuck just say one thing true…
“I’m losing myse-elf…” I sing.
We try out the timing until it fits in the pocket.
Then he sings that part with me:
“I’m losing myse-elf”
Donnie wakes up and starts to drum on the arm of his seat, his tats dancing fast up and down on his arms with the rhythm.
“Do you wanna me?” I sing.
“I’m losing myse-elf.” All of us.
“Objectify me…. I’m a woman machine.” Me.
We go for another hour and complete the song “Woman Machine” all with a wild solo and all. Diego yells from his perch, “When I add the base line, it’s gonna be a freaking hit.” We all agree: it’s going on our next album…
When the world has got you down and you can’t find the ground and everything is disappointing, sometimes I feel like the only thing that will understand me is a song with Jack.
All the pain can dissipate, even if only for a moment.
26 Feb. 1, 2007
Hello new city. Hello same party. Hello, goodbye, wake up, disappear. Where is Hayley in the whole drugs, sex, and rock-n-roll life dream thing? I miss Carter. It’s been only 6 weeks, and something is clearly wrong with me. I can’t fuck anybody else – and not because I haven’t tried. It’s just when I look at them, all I want to see are Carter’s eyes. The insane poetry of our bodies screaming to each other for more. I want to sleep. I want to be taken care of again, made to feel whole. We are more than halfway through the tour, and I can see that our lives are rabbit holes.
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