Hi, I love your music, can I blow you?

Yes, growing up I considered being a groupie my dream full time occupation.

Just to make my definition of a Groupie clear – a girl that gives away her body and heart to the  band in order to support the creative process.

The main inspiration was the character of Penny Lane in Cameron Crowe’s “Almost famous”. Of course Nancy Spungen and Pamela des Barres haunted me as well.

In that really boring town I grew up in, there was a metal band and I figured that if I stick with them from the beginning then once they are famous I’ll be as precious as their music equipment they first practiced on. I would turn up on their rehearsals and smoke cigarettes by basement window. Hopelessly in love with guitarists (not at the same time) and with drummer in love with me (which wasn’t an achievement of any kind since at that time he was in love with every girl he met).

I had the most perfect 16 birthday party a girl with rock and roll under her skin can only imagine. The band I claimed to be a groupie of had a concert in a kind of community center and no one seemed to know about it. Inviting everyone to the venue saying it’s my birthday concert turned out to be a fabulous idea. The band had an audience and I all the favorite tracks played live by people I felt truly connected with on some cosmic level. I danced wildly,  only partly aware what was actually going on thanks to vodka I drank straight from the bottle in the bathroom before the concert.

That bathroom witnessed the true cherry on the cake after the concert – a kiss from the guitarist. My tiara almost fell off my head from all the excitement. (Yes, I had tiara on.)

Nothing more happened and until this day he reminds the only guy I’ve ever really wanted and never had. And one of the most sane people I know.

When one says “Groupie” thinks 70’s USA, tours and hotels filled up  with rockstars and their fish. (I am willing to believe that Led Zeppelin actually used it to please that maid.) My memories are rather innocent and full of magic. The feeling in one’s lower stomach when the vibrations from drums and amplifier bounce from the walls in some teenage boy’s crowded bedroom right through your skin. Oh...

The first script I’ve ever wrote was a projection of my future and wasn’t really optimistic. (I hope to turn it into a graphic novel this year.)

I realized that there are thousands of girls in love with music and probably firmer tits and being pretty wasn’t enough. Instead of saying:

-Hi, I love your music, can I blow you?

I wanted to be able to say:

-Hi, I love your music. Would you like a music video? (And some some romance please?)