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The next night he returned with the smeared lipstick, but this time he was the psych nurse version of the iconic character. It was a talent to make a knee-length white belted dress sexy, but Aspen found a way. He paired it with knee highs and even put on giant gloves at one point during the show.
He went on to recreate some of the themes of our albums. From business attire, complete with a skirt, blazer, and heels, to a zombie, which also involved a skirt and maybe shouldn’t have been attractive, but somehow was, and didn’t stop the fan frenzy.
Halloween came, and we did three themed shows with Aspen appearing as Dracula the first night. I thought it couldn’t get any worse, but night two, he showed up as a Fight Club character, and not in a toxic masculine way most of the men who saw the movie wrongly interpreted it, but as Marla Singer. Full-on black halter and fur coat. I survived, but nothing could have prepared me for the final night when he recreated the cult classic The Rocky Horror Picture Show.
Gray skies, melancholy mind.
Rain splashed on pavement.
Breathe in together.
Dreams while awake.
I want you just as you are.
Every part of us written in this silent melody.
Fight the tide and the pull of our fates
But there’s no escape.
Crash together—pulled apart.
Alone to ride the roll of the sea.
Souls set adrift to drown in the deep.
This craving for connection.
Clash.
Disconnect.
Come together—pulled apart.
Was it only this from the start?
We find ourselves in the sweet symphony of sorrow.
Dreams cast on deaf ears.
Another sunrise on empty eyes.
Driftwood in the current of time.
Faced with oblivion we create.
A legacy or scars
Wanting anyone to know who we are.
Is this the symptom or the cure?
We ain’t leaving this spot.
We’ll wait until we rot.
Six feet under and I’ll be waiting here for you.
