New song!

HelloBryan! And the Dark Side of Love.

Actually, I wrote the song Hello Bryan when I was still in school. At that moment it was a completely imaginary story about that guy who was pushing my buttons and got me completely fed up. But frankly, there wasn’t really a guy... And nobody was there, pushing my buttons. But as soon as I sang about it – oh, it all went off!..

The song which originally wasn’t meant to be autobiographical has turned into a kind of prophecy, I suddenly became surrounded by all sorts of maniacs, psychotic stalkers and generally all sorts of weird people. Being still quite inexperienced and naturally curious I was extremely tolerant and friendly with all these weirdoes, but they would mistake my patience for actual sympathy and begin demanding my attention, sometimes even in kind of aggressive ways. They would to stalk me, send all sorts of bizarre and creepy gifts, call me up at night, make all sorts of hysterical declarations... Have you ever received a rabbit paw or powdered rose petals in a gift box?..

I kept trying to work out a solution, some way to deal with all that – and most of all figure out how to behave myself around all that. And also I was trying to remain polite, but come on, when you’re woken up in the middle of the night by someone scratching on your bedroom window with a branch – can’t help being pretty pissed off! No wonder at the end of my song the girl kills the annoying guy. In real life I used to have to sit through teary soul outpours, sometimes lasting even the entire night.

But I must say, guys were actually bothering me less. If they couldn’t be told, I used to send one of my larger mates to pretend to be my boyfriend. I don’t know what used to shock them more: the presence of a boyfriend as such, or my seemingly appalling taste in men... But the method was fool-proof. Having, in one way or another, expressed their deepest regret and disappointment the unlucky suitors would then usually disappear.

But the real problem were the girls. They were the ones sending me strange gifts and calling me up at night. They probably used to find it all horribly romantic. And what’s more, they would be way more cunning and inventive that the guys, and much more persistent. Sometimes I couldn’t at all understand what on earth they want from me – whether, so to say, they want to fuck me or fight me. People say that following and imitation is the highest kind of flattery, but I find it quite hard to describe what I felt when I looked at some girl who was totally copying my style and, imagine that, also trying to flirt with my boyfriend. Anyway, trying to get into someone’s good books by copying their hair – not the smartest idea. Who would wanna be friends with their own lame caricature? Well, at least I wouldn’t. Did I wanna shoot that idiot? Oh yea! But after drinking a bottle of wine on a rooftop, on a warm spring night – hell! we became best friends!..


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