Post by Logan on Jun 24, 2011 5:30:09 GMT -5
Seth Lerch: Two-three-four!!!
Lerch pounds his chopsticks into the snare, kicking in The Connector’s cover of The Struggle Within. Two other close friends power the base and guitar and Logan holds the microphone close to his mouth – almost ready to eat it. The small audience of a couple dozen or so at the bar in Oley jump up and down in beat to the drums rhythm.
Logan: Looking out for something you’ve got to feel..
His thumb pops open a Pabst Blue Ribbon and steadily pours into the mouth of the first row.
Logan: While clutching to what you had thought was real.
Along with the excitement in attendance – Logan also shows enthusiasm – pouring the liquid down his throat before spitting out more PBR fueled lyrics.
Logan: Kicking at a dead horse pleases ME..
All instruments come to an abrupt stop.
Logan: No way..
Pushing the microphone into a drunkards face.
Crowd Drunkard: - of showing your gratitude!
The music kicks back in like a sudden unexpected thunder storm.
Logan: So many things you don’t want to dooo.. WHAT IS IT?
With one hundred percent focus the microphone is pushed over the crowds head.
Crowd: WHAT HAVE YOU GOT TO LOSE?!!!
The microphone retracts back into Logan’s mouth.
Logan: What the hell? What is it you think you’re goin’ find?
Crowd: Hypocrite!
Logan: Boredom sets into the –
The crowd is once again forced to anticipate.
Crowd: Boooooring mind!
The Connectors bang hands into instruments as if a life depended on it.
Logan: The struggle within! It suits you fine! The struggle within – your ruin. Struggle within, you seal your own coffin – struggle within – the struggling withinnnnnn!
All instruments die. Logan slightly bends into the front row, hand on his knee, acknowledging the silence. Logan soon silently ballads into the microphone without the use of sound other than his own voice.
Logan: Home is not a home it becomes a hell.. turned into your prison cell..
The audience faces display rest assured sympathy.
Logan: Booooudle.
A microphone gets stuffed into their faces.
Crowd: Bouuudle!
Logan: Bouuudle.
Crowd: Bouuuudle!
Stopping suddenly, Logan looks around, before soon signaling Seth Lerch back in with the drums along with everyone else.
Logan: Advantages are taken – not handed out! While you struggle inside your hell.
Like a firecracker, Logan explodes into the front row landing back first, letting stranger hands support him.
Logan: Reaching out! Grabbing for something you’ve got to feel – oh babygurrls!
They push Logan back onto the small stage.
Logan: Closing in –
Sticking an index finger out at the crowd in a pointing fashion.
Logan: The pressure upon you is so unreal!
The rest of the band kicks into another high gear that wasn’t thought possible.
Logan: The struggle within, it suits you fine! The struggle within your ruin – struggle within you seal your coffin – the struggle within..
And as if the crowd had been coached, they strike on que.
Crowd: THE STRUGGLING WITHIN!
The music takes another momentarily pause. Logan holds the microphone to his lips eyeing the audience with wide eyes before finally lighting the bombs fuse.
Logan: STRUGGLE.
The guitar play begins a perfect identical solo – only adding a small bit of his twist to it.
Logan: Go!
The gold continues to shine.
Logan: Reaching out for something you’ve got to feel!
His hands interlocked with hands of the crowd.
Logan: While clutching to what you had was real – what the hell?!
Microphone stuffed into a person’s nose.
Crowd Member: Hypocrite!
Back into Logan’s mouth like a cheeseburger for a guy that hasn’t eaten in days.
Logan: Boredom sets into the boring miiiind!
He holds the microphone out into the air.
Crowd: The struggle within!
Pumping the microphone into the air and further encouraging them to continue.
Crowd: It suits you fine! Struggle within, your ruin! Struggle within – you seal your own coffin – struggle within, the struggling within!!
Logan: Struggle!
The climax happens – that JUST happened.
Logan: We are The Connectors..
Big pop from the bars audience.
Logan: And we’re from Oley, Pennsylvania.
Bigger pop erupts – especially considering that they are performing in Oley.
Logan: WHO WANTS A FUCKIN’ TICKET TONIGHT?
More cheering.
Logan: I said who wants a fuckin’ ticket!!
The applauding becomes even more enormous.
Logan: Babygurls.. babygurls..
Implanting his face into a crowd member – Logan kisses a guy on the mouth.
Logan: Who really wants a fuckin’ ticket?
Idly nodding to the other members of the band, Logan begins slowly jumping into place and “Fuckin’ The Ass” by The Connectors jumps into play.
Logan: One…
Standing over the audience like a God – secretly demanding cooperation.
Logan: Twoooo…
Familiar with the song, the crowd pleasantly goes along.
Crowd: THREE! FOUR!
Along with the band, Logan jumps into action without missing a beat, singing the lyrics fast enough that could easily be interpreted for mumbling.
Logan: What am I doing here – I think this might be home! Without taking out the trash! This thing you call a feeling deep inside - is grabbin’ the heart like a horny doggg!!
The band continues, naturally jumping and strumming along like they’ve done it a million times before. Logan lifts a PBR from the floor and takes a quick sip before going on…
Logan: There is no pleasure! Thinking about the ‘future’ will get you nowhere! There is no pleasure – Torture killed it all and I’ve found myself aligned with nowhere– nooowhere – NOOOOOHHHHOOWHERE!
Throwing his arms out with a statement.
Logan: NOWHERE!
The music stops like it was shot dead in the head. Logan kicks in another song by The Connectors.
Logan: Should I be looking back now at where I have gone wrong – and did I go wrong? The past is my future – and it’s the past that controls my future gain.
The camera dies as they continue rocking.
Lerch pounds his chopsticks into the snare, kicking in The Connector’s cover of The Struggle Within. Two other close friends power the base and guitar and Logan holds the microphone close to his mouth – almost ready to eat it. The small audience of a couple dozen or so at the bar in Oley jump up and down in beat to the drums rhythm.
Logan: Looking out for something you’ve got to feel..
His thumb pops open a Pabst Blue Ribbon and steadily pours into the mouth of the first row.
Logan: While clutching to what you had thought was real.
Along with the excitement in attendance – Logan also shows enthusiasm – pouring the liquid down his throat before spitting out more PBR fueled lyrics.
Logan: Kicking at a dead horse pleases ME..
All instruments come to an abrupt stop.
Logan: No way..
Pushing the microphone into a drunkards face.
Crowd Drunkard: - of showing your gratitude!
The music kicks back in like a sudden unexpected thunder storm.
Logan: So many things you don’t want to dooo.. WHAT IS IT?
With one hundred percent focus the microphone is pushed over the crowds head.
Crowd: WHAT HAVE YOU GOT TO LOSE?!!!
The microphone retracts back into Logan’s mouth.
Logan: What the hell? What is it you think you’re goin’ find?
Crowd: Hypocrite!
Logan: Boredom sets into the –
The crowd is once again forced to anticipate.
Crowd: Boooooring mind!
The Connectors bang hands into instruments as if a life depended on it.
Logan: The struggle within! It suits you fine! The struggle within – your ruin. Struggle within, you seal your own coffin – struggle within – the struggling withinnnnnn!
All instruments die. Logan slightly bends into the front row, hand on his knee, acknowledging the silence. Logan soon silently ballads into the microphone without the use of sound other than his own voice.
Logan: Home is not a home it becomes a hell.. turned into your prison cell..
The audience faces display rest assured sympathy.
Logan: Booooudle.
A microphone gets stuffed into their faces.
Crowd: Bouuudle!
Logan: Bouuudle.
Crowd: Bouuuudle!
Stopping suddenly, Logan looks around, before soon signaling Seth Lerch back in with the drums along with everyone else.
Logan: Advantages are taken – not handed out! While you struggle inside your hell.
Like a firecracker, Logan explodes into the front row landing back first, letting stranger hands support him.
Logan: Reaching out! Grabbing for something you’ve got to feel – oh babygurrls!
They push Logan back onto the small stage.
Logan: Closing in –
Sticking an index finger out at the crowd in a pointing fashion.
Logan: The pressure upon you is so unreal!
The rest of the band kicks into another high gear that wasn’t thought possible.
Logan: The struggle within, it suits you fine! The struggle within your ruin – struggle within you seal your coffin – the struggle within..
And as if the crowd had been coached, they strike on que.
Crowd: THE STRUGGLING WITHIN!
The music takes another momentarily pause. Logan holds the microphone to his lips eyeing the audience with wide eyes before finally lighting the bombs fuse.
Logan: STRUGGLE.
The guitar play begins a perfect identical solo – only adding a small bit of his twist to it.
Logan: Go!
The gold continues to shine.
Logan: Reaching out for something you’ve got to feel!
His hands interlocked with hands of the crowd.
Logan: While clutching to what you had was real – what the hell?!
Microphone stuffed into a person’s nose.
Crowd Member: Hypocrite!
Back into Logan’s mouth like a cheeseburger for a guy that hasn’t eaten in days.
Logan: Boredom sets into the boring miiiind!
He holds the microphone out into the air.
Crowd: The struggle within!
Pumping the microphone into the air and further encouraging them to continue.
Crowd: It suits you fine! Struggle within, your ruin! Struggle within – you seal your own coffin – struggle within, the struggling within!!
Logan: Struggle!
The climax happens – that JUST happened.
Logan: We are The Connectors..
Big pop from the bars audience.
Logan: And we’re from Oley, Pennsylvania.
Bigger pop erupts – especially considering that they are performing in Oley.
Logan: WHO WANTS A FUCKIN’ TICKET TONIGHT?
More cheering.
Logan: I said who wants a fuckin’ ticket!!
The applauding becomes even more enormous.
Logan: Babygurls.. babygurls..
Implanting his face into a crowd member – Logan kisses a guy on the mouth.
Logan: Who really wants a fuckin’ ticket?
Idly nodding to the other members of the band, Logan begins slowly jumping into place and “Fuckin’ The Ass” by The Connectors jumps into play.
Logan: One…
Standing over the audience like a God – secretly demanding cooperation.
Logan: Twoooo…
Familiar with the song, the crowd pleasantly goes along.
Crowd: THREE! FOUR!
Along with the band, Logan jumps into action without missing a beat, singing the lyrics fast enough that could easily be interpreted for mumbling.
Logan: What am I doing here – I think this might be home! Without taking out the trash! This thing you call a feeling deep inside - is grabbin’ the heart like a horny doggg!!
The band continues, naturally jumping and strumming along like they’ve done it a million times before. Logan lifts a PBR from the floor and takes a quick sip before going on…
Logan: There is no pleasure! Thinking about the ‘future’ will get you nowhere! There is no pleasure – Torture killed it all and I’ve found myself aligned with nowhere– nooowhere – NOOOOOHHHHOOWHERE!
Throwing his arms out with a statement.
Logan: NOWHERE!
The music stops like it was shot dead in the head. Logan kicks in another song by The Connectors.
Logan: Should I be looking back now at where I have gone wrong – and did I go wrong? The past is my future – and it’s the past that controls my future gain.
The camera dies as they continue rocking.
