tokio hotel

brought to you by my 13-year old self, in conjunction with my present-day self who realizes that her 13-year old self was imminently cooler than she will ever be again:



I did use to love the pretty long-haired boys in eyeliner. where did they all go?

the lead singer, tom, reminds me of j, whom I used to have a crush on and would steal glances at all the time when I was dating i. I'd make excuses to catch him in his velvet-suited glory, leaning against the streetposts on telegraph or at popscene at the cat club, before it moved to 330 ritch. all hair and dark-rimmed eyes and thin, long fingers.

I'm sure he's probably the bagcheck dude at an amoeba somewhere or something.

o, back to tokio hotel. the obligatory ballad:


I told kisling that they were like an early crüe, circa too fast for love or shout. but I take that back now. more on the realm of theatre of pain. but cuter? and cleaner?