Beating The Clock, chapter 4
I'm not too sure I like the idea of someone sitting behind me while I'm in this interview. I never liked it when I had to sit up front and Tre would sit behind me - or even Mike. He's sneaky. While Tre is a total physical comedian, Mike has a talent for poking you in the back and looking completely innocent on camera. I've spent more than a few days trying to figure out how he does it, but I've never come up with his secret.
Logically, I should trust the radio station with my safety, but the idea of having fans standing behind me where I can't see them leaves me feeling like I need to turn around all the time. Wes sees this. I can see the recognition in his eyes of the issue, but the room is too small for him to stand behind me and I'd feel like an ass if I told someone to move away from me.
It sucks to not be able to voice your opinion on things because you're afraid of people's reactions. I think if I wasn't famous I'd be a lot less stressed out for the pure fact that normal people can say anything and get away with about 95% of it; I can only say a limited amount of things and 95% of what I say is analyzed by Rolling Stone Magazine, People Magazine and every other popular publication in the United States. Hell, let's throw in the world for good measure.
To calm myself I take deep breaths, put on my headphones and ask for a bottle of water. I don't know when I'll get to pee today, but I know that if I don't have something around me, some prop, if you might call it that, in my hands to keep me entertained I know I'll go nuts. Right now I feel like Tre hyped up on about fifteen Pixie Stix.
We lived on those things for so long when we first started out, but now I wouldn't touch one with a 10-foot pole, unless I didn't have Kool-Aid around and needed something to drink, then I'd pop open a few and add water and have the nectar of the Gods. Those ten cent packs of Kool-Aid from Albertson's really can save a guy a lot of time and trouble when looking for a non-alcoholic drink—or even an alcoholic one.
Vodka is the best invention on earth. The thought of it makes me smile and a girl standing behind the DJ catches my eye and smiles. If I wasn't working I might flirt a little more than I do, but it's not professional to make eyes at a fan that waves to you while you're being interviewed on a radio station. She waves while I keep my eyes on her. I wink back and then turn to look out the window suddenly wondering when Vivian will show up with my breakfast. Coffee on an empty stomach sucks ass.
I take a drink of water and that's when it happens. At first it feels like maybe just my jacket poking into my neck, but soon I find little fingers touching my neck. It makes me jump and I completely lose my concentration.
"What the fuck?" I say in a voice that clearly stuns everyone in the room. I don't know why, I'm not fucking Clay - ouch my back is - Aiken. I don't doubt he swears. Everyone swears. Fucking hypocrites just ignore our true personalities.
I turn around batting my hand at my neck. At this point I think that maybe someone has put something on me or a spider or ants or any number of disgusting things like that are crawling on me.
When I turn around I find the culprit of the intrusion. A smallish sixteen-year-old girl is standing behind me now with her hand clamped over her mouth and tears in her eyes. I don't know when Wes got over to stand behind me, but he's now looking down at her like she's a freaking cheeseburger and he hasn't eaten for days.
I lean over and pull at Wes's jacket. "Come on man."
Wes doesn't say anything and I know he's pissed. He's not upset with the girl at all. For him it's all internal. It's strange to have him be this way, but I know he's upset because he didn't catch the girl before she did what she did. He doesn't think of things as little. In his eyes nothing is little. Everything has morphed so much that it kind of all gets lost in the amazing amounts of time we've spent with our guards.
My adrenaline is high right now. I try to pull him away from the girl and he doesn't budge so I get up and stand between them. He's like a pit bull in that aspect. I feel the tension in Wes's glare and I know that before the day is through one of us is going to slam our fist into a wall. Dealing with fans on this kind of level is draining and everyone's patience is lost easily. My hands pull at his shoulder and I try to laugh this off, but it's not working.
I probably can't hold him back from doing whatever he's going to do. I know that and the girl seems to know that, but there is that gleam in her eyes that makes me her "knight in shining armor."
Wes starts towards her and I totally become a cartoon superhero. I over exagerate the amount of force I need to use to keep Wes back and finally turn my head to get some other fans to help me push. They join in and soon we're all laughing. He finally backs down and finds his seat again and I find mine.
"Are you ready?" The interviewer asks. I keep thinking of them as an interviewer because normally I'd be talking to Angie Martinez but since she's not here they have some other DJ, probably a new one, filing in.
I grab up my water and take a drink and listen to the DJ introduce the section. The girls behind me are still whispering, but soon the DJ makes a motion to get them to stop.
I, being the ass that I am and wanting to have a little fun this morning, turn around and mock the DJ by making a 'shhh' noise.
The DJ's voice fills my ears. "Ladies...that was Billie Joe Armstrong shhushing the fans we have here in the studio."
I close my eyes for a moment and remember that I have a microphone stuck onto my headset. "Sorry about that," I say in the lightest voice I can muster up.
"I know that they were the lucky ones that got a seat behind me here in the studio...but I don't want anyone else out there to miss out on the fun because blondie over here is laughing." I laugh and tug the girl over and take off my headset. Holding the microphone up to my mouth I keep talking. "Tell them what you did."
"I...Umm." Her eyes go wide and she looks at me. "I um...I tried to take some lint off your jacket and I almost got smushed by a bodyguard."
"HEY!" Wes yells from the other side of the tiny room. "I didn't smush her!"
"Yeah," I say and puff out my chest a little. "Because I saved her." The DJ laughs along with us for a moment then gets the interview back on track.
"It was hilarious ladies and gentleman. Imagine a smurf going up against The Rock for WWE."
"HEY!" I say totally playing along with him. "I'm not a smurf!!!"
"I like smurfs," the girl next to me says.
The DJ motions for her to say it into the microphone so I move mine over for her to use. "I like Smurfs," she repeats.
"That's just great," I laugh. "I'm a singing smurf."
The DJ laughs. "You're Godly smurf."
This is when I start to despise the fact that I'm on the radio and I can't just say anything to anyone again. I want to knock the hell out of the guy for making fun of me. "Yeah," I say, "Right." I let the girl go and kind of push her back towards her friends, then take a deep breath. "So how about those questions?"
"Okay." The DJ pulls something up on his computer and then looks at me with this huge smile on his face. "So, where have you boys been? Are you happy to be back?"
I roll my eyes at the term boys and try not to reach out and hit the guy. I would hope that at this level of the game that they'd get a professional in here to talk, but it looks like that idea is out the window.
"A double question!" I try to laugh off the fact that people always do that to me. They want one question answered but they ask two instead. "We're glad to be back." I try not to think about this too much so I have a hard time getting the words out. "The business has definitely changed since we've gone. But no one seems to realize we've been here the entire time." I hate myself for saying that.
I feel like I'm kissing their asses now. "We recorded 'Warning' and 'International Superhits' as our greatest-hits album. Everything else we've had left over in the studio made up 'Shenanigans'." I don't mention that usually I'm the one in the studio longer than they are trying to make my moves my own versus the way that the others do theirs.
"That's good to hear," the DJ says. He moves a little and then introduces another song. Christina Aguilera. I could feel my head pressuring me to bang it on the desk. It really wants to be let out again.
I am beautiful no matter what they say
Words can't bring me down
I am beautiful in every single way
Yes, words can't bring me down
So don't you bring me down today
I screamed a single line and laughed. I've heard that song once, and of course it's one of those songs that you can recite word by word after you've heard it. Wrong move.
A girl across the room says loudly. "You know her song?"
"Why wouldn't I?" I ask. "I may be busy, but I don't live under a rock."
"I just thought that you wouldn't like her--" She stops for a moment. "Because of--"
I roll my eyes. "Music is music girl." Of course I don't like this music. I just love being an asshole.
The DJ comes back from the song and starts to ask more questions. "What did the guys think of your new-found thoughts put into lyrics?"
This is the biggest question of the day. I know this has been coming and I don't know if I should say the real thing or if I should say the PC answer. I shrug and decide to take the easy road. "They loved it. They were both very supportive." They would be supportive of anything musical that I wrote, even if it sounded like crap.
"Do you think they would tell you if they didn't like it and would you tell them?"
"Yeah." I look around at the girls in the studio and notice that there aren't really that many of them there. I could easily make eye contact with them all through the show and do a little schmoozing with them. It wouldn't hurt the album to flirt a little. "And I would tell them. I'd jump at the opportunity! They don't want to make shitty music."
"Would you consider doing a solo album? You know, to get your own thoughts out that you couldn't share with the band."
DAMN. I didn't want to deal with this today. I take a deep breath and look at the desktop in front of me for a moment so I can collect my thoughts.
"Why would I rather share my personal feelings with people I don't know?" I watched him completely tune out my question that backfired him. Of course; I made him look like an asshole.
"What's your favorite track on the new album, and will you be touring?"
Another tough one. "It's so hard to pick your favorite song. As a songwriter the tracks are like your children, you love them all the same. As for a tour, We'll be doing a world tour, so Green Day will definitely be all over the place."
"Okay. We have a question from one of our winners," the interviewer says.
A girl walks up to his side of the room. "If you were stranded on a desert island and could only take one member of Green Day with you, who would it be?"
"Probably Tre." I could tell a million stories of why exactly I'd pick him, but I know that he'd go to the end of the world to help him and he'd do the same to me. "I just think he would survive. Yeah, I'll stick with him, he's raw. And dirty."
The interviewer laughs. "What about Mike, there's more of him to eat if things get out of hand?"
I laugh and look away from the girl and close my eyes for a moment. "Yeah, but there's such a difference between protein and gristle!" Everyone in the room laughs their heads off and the girls seem to come towards me, but I think I'm just paranoid at this point.
The next girl in line steps up to the microphone. "Who were your influences when you were younger?
"His Mom and Dad!" someone behind me yells.
I blush a little. I can feel it and I can see someone across the room whispering about it. It's my classic tried and true answer. I can't deny it. They've been through all of my ups and downs and sideways and really have made my life possible to be the way it is.
"Oh man! The biggest influence in my life obviously were my parents, my dad particularly. I know he wasn't around when I started Green Day, but he was always there I think. He taught me how to grow up."
"What about music wise?" the interviewer asks.
I can't remember this guy's name for the life of me. It worries me that it's this early in the day and I can't remember, but it doesn't seem to matter as I answer. "As far as music is concerned; The Clash, Ramones, The Sex Pistols, the list goes on and on--"
"With all the comparisons people are debating between Green Day and The Sex Pistols, do you worry that people are going to expect you to live up to his standards?"
"I think any artist takes something from their influences and then makes it their own." Simple. I think I'm done with this interview. I'm bored. "You know you can't put a scale on something that's already been a phenomenon. I think as time goes by, people will see who we are."
"That seems to be a good way to end this section of our program." Yes.
"... I know that Billie has other things to get off to and we need to do some station business too. It's been a pleasure Billie Joe."
"Thanks," I say not knowing what else to do.
When I look up Vivian is in the hallway. She has a bag in her hand and a smile on her face. Wes seems to see this and sigh knowing that I'd be bitching about it if I didn't eat soon.
I say my goodbyes, pose for a few pictures then leave the station and head back to the car.
"Here's breakfast," Vivian says handing me a bag and a drink. I open the bag and look inside. "What is this?" I ask.
She smiles one of those almost wicked smiles and keeps her eyes on the bag. "Just open it in the car and you'll see."
In the car I get comfortable and then open the bag. What I find is a banana and then a small plastic container about the size of a cheeseburger. I open it up and find myself faced with something that definitely isn't a turn over. "What is this?" I ask as peach hits my nose.
"Take a bite," she says and dials her phone.
"Is this what I think it is?"
"Maybe," Vivian says. "Hello Maxine. I have Billie there in a few moments for you to talk to. He's just finishing up a bite of breakfast."
I take a bite of the desert looking thing in the container and know instantly that my day will get worse from here. It's peach cobbler. I don't know how she smuggled it to me, but I know that my day must be insane if she's bribing me with mom's cooking.
"I love you," I say instantly licking my lips and taking a swig of water. I reach into my pocket and see that I now have five messages then hold it in one hand as I finish eating my bite and get ready for my interview. "For the moment anyway." I look at the phone. "Who is this?"
"Like you care," she says and hands the phone to me, taking my bottle of water from me.
I haven't a clue where we're going and my mind slips to wondering about that as I'm asked the same questions over and over again. Do they understand how annoying it is to answer the same stuff over and over? I wish I could just do one big press conference and have everyone there. They'd never go for it though. They all want their little exclusive even though even an exclusive anymore isn't that exclusive.
"Where did the title of your new CD, American Idiot, come from?" A woman asks this with a very polite tone as if she's bothering me to ask it.
Thank God. A new question! I smile out the window and people watch as I answer. New York at this point of the day looks the same wherever I am. People are all on their way to work. I imagine myself sometimes as a business man, but I never think I could be stuck in an office for more than a few days in a row.
Right now I'm never in one city more than a few days. Except for this summer when I had the flu and stayed in California for ten days because I couldn't travel, I've been in at least five cities every two weeks since I was twenty-three.
"Well, it seems as if there is one permanent individual who stands as a weight for others. So to me there is only one real idiot in America. And to another extent, we are all American Idiots." It seems like every time you do something, you always have a reason. It's not a complete truthful answer, but it leaves me being the total package when I'm done.
"Do you have a favorite song on your new CD?"
"Well, American Idiot is fun to play, but I guess I don't really have a favorite." That was a good day definitely. "When you write a bunch of songs they're like your babies. You don't pick favorites.
"Did you write most of your songs?"
I roll my eyes, clearly someone didn't do their research or the person on the end of this phone clearly isn't prepared to talk to me right now. "Yeah, I wrote all of them."
"Wow!"
"Yeah," I say. "I write all of our songs. Give or take a few, too."
My eyes go to the list of calls that are showing up on my phone and I see that three are from LA and two are from California which means Mom or Adie are trying to call me.
"So what was it like working on your first comeback album?"
"It was fun!" I put my phone away into my pocket again and move my watch around on my wrist before my hand slides over my eyes for a moment and strain to sound excited. I'm starting to hit the wall. I need more caffeine or something to get me going again. Food would be nice, but I can't talk and eat.
I rub my eyebrows back and forth then wipe a hand over my chin. I'm going to need to shave sometime this morning before I go on camera. "At first I was a little nervous about how the sound would come out, but once we did the first few songs, I was happy! We were moving in a good direction."
The interviewer pauses for a moment and I take a bite of my cobbler.
"Is there anything that no one knows about you?"
"Nope." I lick my lips and pray that this lie goes through.
What kind of fucking question is that? Of course tell everyone everything about me. Fuck, everyone knows the noises I make during sex even. Absolutely. Fucking idiot.
Everyone knows that there are a billion and one things I keep from the press. It's getting harder and harder to do that, but I know it's something I have to savor. Many stars have done Cribs and I haven't. I'm really not into people seeing where I sleep, where I eat and frankly where I take a shit. I mean that has nothing to do with the performer that I am and I really don't see the point of it. When we were making "Diary" back with Blink 182 I had to fight tooth and nail to only be followed during working hours. They could have followed me home that weekend, and they did.
"You all pretty much know everything about me."
"What was your biggest challenge in doing an album with this concept?"
Again people must not understand what it's really like to break away from something that has totally made you who you are.
"My biggest challenge was to make sure that it was an honest piece of work; that the songs I wrote were who I am. And to make sure Mike and Tre fully understood where I was coming from. It was important that it would be almost like I took the words right of their mouths."
"Were you aiming for a specific audience when recording your CD?"
I have to think about this one a little bit. No one has really asked me about this. I know that deep down I had a little bit of an idea about who I wanted to make this CD for and the label definitely wanted to market it towards my fans from Green Day, but also a more Urban crowd too. I can't say that though. I mean everyone already knows that, but I can never single out any one group or I'll totally alienate another group.
Alienate. What a perfect word for my life. I feel right now that the more this day and this career goes along, the more I'm moved away from normal society towards this realm of people that live in this parallel world. I mean, Mike is there. And Tre is there and Mom is around, but really the only one that lives this life is me. And David.
"Not really, I just wanted to be me." I shrug and look at Vivian who is waving for me to get off the phone. She somehow has produced another phone from thin air and says with a wave and frantic soundless speech that I need to take that call.
"Thanks for talking to me," the interviewer says.
I can't remember this one's name either so I cover it up. "Well it was fun talking to you. I hope your readers like what I have to say."
"I'm sure they will," she says. I hang up that phone and am handed another cell phone.
When I take the other phone from Vivian she smiles. "Getting tired yet?" she cocks her head to the side and gives me a slightly sympathetic look. I don't know if I like her smile like that or not. If she starts being nice to me I always know that something bad is coming up so I know that I should prepare myself for something now.
"No," I say, "But when we get to the next stop I've got to pee." It sucks to have to basically ask permission to do that, but even that can mess up my schedule. I point to the phone. "Who is this?"
"It's Sarah," Vivan says.
I glare at the phone as if it's slimy or whatever. You know that face I always use when something isn't up to my standards. "What?"
"J-14." Vivian doesn't look at me. She's clicking through her palm pilot to find phone numbers again. "Sarah wanted to be the one to interview you so I said that it would be okay."
"Shit," I say and make sure that the microphone is covered. Personally I have nothing against Sarah. When she and Mike broke things off early last year I had to side with him instead of her, but it wasn't that I hated her, it was just that loyalty dictated that I side with my friend instead of the girl's. It could have been anyone and I still would have sided with Mike on things.
It's unfair that way, but boys will be boys and girls will be girls and at the moment I know that Mike and Tre side with me on a lot of the issues that come up between me and Adie in the press. "Shoot me already. When Mike finds out about this--"
Vivian only glances at me and in a not so convincing voice says, "It's going to be okay."
I roll my eyes and throw my hood up around my head. "Hello?"
"Hey Billie."
I close my eyes. "Hi Sarah."
"I don't want to be too formal about this or anything, but I just wanted to ask you a few questions about the new album."
"How many?" I ask knowing that she's the only one I can get away with saying that to.
She seems suddenly nervous with me. "Like five or six?"
"Go ahead," I say moving around in my seat a little before I remember that I have food with me in the car. "But I'll warn you now I'm not going to say anything about my love-life."
"That's fine," she says. "I'm going to tape this conversation onto my answering machine so I can go back and write it all out later. Okay?"
This is probably something my lawyer should be answering, but I figure that it's Sarah and I can always hang up on her if I want to. "Fine."
She shuffles papers in the background. "What was the last book you read?"
My eyes scan the scene outside. I'll never get tired of looking at NYC buildings. No matter how often I visit there are always new things that are up or taken down or just turned a different way. The same street can look completely different too if you're heading on it uptown versus downtown. Every little part of it is different.
"I just finished reading something called The Prophet. It's by an early-twentieth century poet and philosopher Kahlil Gibran. It's kind of poetic. I like self-help books. I like books that I feel I got something from that I can apply to my life."
Sarah clears her throat and takes a drink of water. "A five year old kid named his hamster Billie Joe in your honor. What's the weirdest thing like that that a fan's ever done?
"The weirdest thing--" I have to think about this for a while. "The weirdest thing, I've ever seen was a tattoo this girl had of me on her whole arm." Vivian looks up from her work and shakes her head at me. "It was from her shoulder bone all the way down to her forearm, she had a portrait of me. Initially, I was a bit stunned. I saw it when I was onstage, and it broke up my whole freakin' routine. I didn't know what to do. And then I look over and she's got Mike all over her other arm."
"Really?" Sarah says. "Mike never told me about that?"
I don't say anything. I don't want to talk about him or anything that should have or shouldn't have been said to her. I'm not going to step into that fight if I don't have to.
She seems to understand that I don't want to move the conversation in that direction. "What CDs are you playing on your stereo right now?"
"I'm enthused by so many different things. But right now I can't get From First to Last out of my stereo. I think they're the greatest band of this generation -- it's between them and Chiodos."
"That's so not what I thought you'd say," she comments.
"Yeah well I change up my sounds a lot so I don't get caught in one style."
"Cool." She moves on. "You're obsessed with shoes, aren't you? How many pairs of them do you own?"
"An incredible amount." My eyes scan the street and I know we're coming up on the street where NYLA is. I haven't been on this street in about eight months and I don't know if I should be on the phone when it happens. "A lot." I know I sound vague with my answer so I try to concentrate. "I gave half of them away to the Salvation Army, and I problem still have around 800 pairs. Shoe companies have found out that I collect them, so they send me all these free shoes. That's obviously the best thing about doing what I do -- all the free stuff, all the swag."
Vivian's hand comes to rest on my arm and her eyes stare straight out the window. I don't know what she's doing, but she seems to have turned into a deer caught in headlights.
"What's wrong Vivian?"
"Don't look," she says not blinking her eyes.
"Don't look at what?"
I turn my head and see Katie coming out of NYLA with her security guard Spanky, her friend Amy, and her boyfriend Timber. There are photographers all over the place taking pictures. My breath catches in my throat as we stop at a stoplight.
"Billie?"
"Hold on Sarah." I pull the phone away from my face and place it in my lap. My hand goes to the handle of the door.
"Don't do it Billie," Vivian says. "D lock the doors on him."
My ears can only hear my heart beating and my eyes are like Vivian's. I don't blink. I don't even breathe I think until she disappears into the car on the curb that was there for her.
"Billie don't do it." Vivan repeats her plea and her hand digs into my arm. If she had longer nails I'm sure that I'd be bleeding right now. For the moment I feel only pressure and not the pain of the grip she has on my arm. "D lock the doors and get us out of here."
"What's wrong?" Wes says from the front seat.
"Katie," Vivan says in a hushed voice as if she'll be heard through the glass windows of the car.
D looks again in the back and just as my hand starts to open the door I hear the click of the door locking me in.
"Lock the door on him."
"It's locked."
Vivian takes the phone from my lap. "Sarah. Billie's brother just called and he has to take this call. I'll make sure that he calls you back in a few minutes."
My hand moves from the door and I put my hand on my knee. My palm is sweating so I rub it on my jeans and then I turn to Vivian. My mouth is slightly open and I finally close it.
"Are you sure?" Vivian says and puts her hand on my leg. She's still on the phone, but if she was asking me that question at the moment I'd have to tell her that I wasn't sure. I wasn't at all sure that I should have left the woman I've been in love with since I was eighteen behind. I shouldn't have been gone so much.
If I hadn't been there then she wouldn't have had any reason to do what she did.
Vivian hangs up the phone. "Sarah says thanks for the interview and if you have time later on call her so she can get you in again."
I lick my lips and look out the window again already feeling the tears at the corners of my eyes. "Yeah," I say, "I'll call her back later and thank her."
"Billie?"
"Hmm?" I say.
"Are you going to be okay?"
I swallow and turn back to her and force a smile. "Uh--yeah. Fine."
Her grip on me loosens and she puts a hand up to my face. "Really?"
My eyes catch Wes looking at me. I don't like the expression on his face. "Yeah," I say and push her hand away. "I'm fine."
"I'm going to tell MTV that we're on the way and that you need to have the green room to yourself for a while."
I reach out to grab the phone away. "Vivian you don't need to--"
She gets suddenly busy. "I'll just tell them that you need a minute to rest before you start your tapings."
"You don't have to," I say. "I'm fine. I mean I knew this would--" My voice catches in my throat.
"Maybe I should tell them that you shouldn't tape today."
Suddenly I see that there are tears in her eyes and I don't understand why. I know that she would side with me, like how I would side with Mike, but I wouldn't cry over anything. "Vivian?"
She continues to look for the MTV number. "I know it's here somewhere. I need to call Dave Sira--sira whatever his name is. You know that producer guy?"
"Vivian."
"What?" She looks up and there are tears in her eyes now for sure.
I want to ask her about the tears but this isn't the time or place for that. I may not have a clue why she's crying, but I know it's not something simple and would need a big explanation. I sigh. "Just tell them that I need about a half hour to chill out and finish my breakfast. Don't cancel. I'll be fine."
"Are you sure?"
I'm definitely not sure about this. I knew that I'd have to see her sooner or later. I got through seeing her before. "I'm sure."
"Fine," she says. "I'll call them and tell them."
"Thanks," I say and I look out the window again. We're like six streets away now turning towards Viacom studios where MTV is at. The fans are lined up around the building and our stage for this afternoon's performance is already set up and ready. I wasn't able to do sound check, but I'm sure everything is going to be fine.
Everything is going to be fine. Maybe if I keep saying that I'll actually believe it one of these days.
Logically, I should trust the radio station with my safety, but the idea of having fans standing behind me where I can't see them leaves me feeling like I need to turn around all the time. Wes sees this. I can see the recognition in his eyes of the issue, but the room is too small for him to stand behind me and I'd feel like an ass if I told someone to move away from me.
It sucks to not be able to voice your opinion on things because you're afraid of people's reactions. I think if I wasn't famous I'd be a lot less stressed out for the pure fact that normal people can say anything and get away with about 95% of it; I can only say a limited amount of things and 95% of what I say is analyzed by Rolling Stone Magazine, People Magazine and every other popular publication in the United States. Hell, let's throw in the world for good measure.
To calm myself I take deep breaths, put on my headphones and ask for a bottle of water. I don't know when I'll get to pee today, but I know that if I don't have something around me, some prop, if you might call it that, in my hands to keep me entertained I know I'll go nuts. Right now I feel like Tre hyped up on about fifteen Pixie Stix.
We lived on those things for so long when we first started out, but now I wouldn't touch one with a 10-foot pole, unless I didn't have Kool-Aid around and needed something to drink, then I'd pop open a few and add water and have the nectar of the Gods. Those ten cent packs of Kool-Aid from Albertson's really can save a guy a lot of time and trouble when looking for a non-alcoholic drink—or even an alcoholic one.
Vodka is the best invention on earth. The thought of it makes me smile and a girl standing behind the DJ catches my eye and smiles. If I wasn't working I might flirt a little more than I do, but it's not professional to make eyes at a fan that waves to you while you're being interviewed on a radio station. She waves while I keep my eyes on her. I wink back and then turn to look out the window suddenly wondering when Vivian will show up with my breakfast. Coffee on an empty stomach sucks ass.
I take a drink of water and that's when it happens. At first it feels like maybe just my jacket poking into my neck, but soon I find little fingers touching my neck. It makes me jump and I completely lose my concentration.
"What the fuck?" I say in a voice that clearly stuns everyone in the room. I don't know why, I'm not fucking Clay - ouch my back is - Aiken. I don't doubt he swears. Everyone swears. Fucking hypocrites just ignore our true personalities.
I turn around batting my hand at my neck. At this point I think that maybe someone has put something on me or a spider or ants or any number of disgusting things like that are crawling on me.
When I turn around I find the culprit of the intrusion. A smallish sixteen-year-old girl is standing behind me now with her hand clamped over her mouth and tears in her eyes. I don't know when Wes got over to stand behind me, but he's now looking down at her like she's a freaking cheeseburger and he hasn't eaten for days.
I lean over and pull at Wes's jacket. "Come on man."
Wes doesn't say anything and I know he's pissed. He's not upset with the girl at all. For him it's all internal. It's strange to have him be this way, but I know he's upset because he didn't catch the girl before she did what she did. He doesn't think of things as little. In his eyes nothing is little. Everything has morphed so much that it kind of all gets lost in the amazing amounts of time we've spent with our guards.
My adrenaline is high right now. I try to pull him away from the girl and he doesn't budge so I get up and stand between them. He's like a pit bull in that aspect. I feel the tension in Wes's glare and I know that before the day is through one of us is going to slam our fist into a wall. Dealing with fans on this kind of level is draining and everyone's patience is lost easily. My hands pull at his shoulder and I try to laugh this off, but it's not working.
I probably can't hold him back from doing whatever he's going to do. I know that and the girl seems to know that, but there is that gleam in her eyes that makes me her "knight in shining armor."
Wes starts towards her and I totally become a cartoon superhero. I over exagerate the amount of force I need to use to keep Wes back and finally turn my head to get some other fans to help me push. They join in and soon we're all laughing. He finally backs down and finds his seat again and I find mine.
"Are you ready?" The interviewer asks. I keep thinking of them as an interviewer because normally I'd be talking to Angie Martinez but since she's not here they have some other DJ, probably a new one, filing in.
I grab up my water and take a drink and listen to the DJ introduce the section. The girls behind me are still whispering, but soon the DJ makes a motion to get them to stop.
I, being the ass that I am and wanting to have a little fun this morning, turn around and mock the DJ by making a 'shhh' noise.
The DJ's voice fills my ears. "Ladies...that was Billie Joe Armstrong shhushing the fans we have here in the studio."
I close my eyes for a moment and remember that I have a microphone stuck onto my headset. "Sorry about that," I say in the lightest voice I can muster up.
"I know that they were the lucky ones that got a seat behind me here in the studio...but I don't want anyone else out there to miss out on the fun because blondie over here is laughing." I laugh and tug the girl over and take off my headset. Holding the microphone up to my mouth I keep talking. "Tell them what you did."
"I...Umm." Her eyes go wide and she looks at me. "I um...I tried to take some lint off your jacket and I almost got smushed by a bodyguard."
"HEY!" Wes yells from the other side of the tiny room. "I didn't smush her!"
"Yeah," I say and puff out my chest a little. "Because I saved her." The DJ laughs along with us for a moment then gets the interview back on track.
"It was hilarious ladies and gentleman. Imagine a smurf going up against The Rock for WWE."
"HEY!" I say totally playing along with him. "I'm not a smurf!!!"
"I like smurfs," the girl next to me says.
The DJ motions for her to say it into the microphone so I move mine over for her to use. "I like Smurfs," she repeats.
"That's just great," I laugh. "I'm a singing smurf."
The DJ laughs. "You're Godly smurf."
This is when I start to despise the fact that I'm on the radio and I can't just say anything to anyone again. I want to knock the hell out of the guy for making fun of me. "Yeah," I say, "Right." I let the girl go and kind of push her back towards her friends, then take a deep breath. "So how about those questions?"
"Okay." The DJ pulls something up on his computer and then looks at me with this huge smile on his face. "So, where have you boys been? Are you happy to be back?"
I roll my eyes at the term boys and try not to reach out and hit the guy. I would hope that at this level of the game that they'd get a professional in here to talk, but it looks like that idea is out the window.
"A double question!" I try to laugh off the fact that people always do that to me. They want one question answered but they ask two instead. "We're glad to be back." I try not to think about this too much so I have a hard time getting the words out. "The business has definitely changed since we've gone. But no one seems to realize we've been here the entire time." I hate myself for saying that.
I feel like I'm kissing their asses now. "We recorded 'Warning' and 'International Superhits' as our greatest-hits album. Everything else we've had left over in the studio made up 'Shenanigans'." I don't mention that usually I'm the one in the studio longer than they are trying to make my moves my own versus the way that the others do theirs.
"That's good to hear," the DJ says. He moves a little and then introduces another song. Christina Aguilera. I could feel my head pressuring me to bang it on the desk. It really wants to be let out again.
I am beautiful no matter what they say
Words can't bring me down
I am beautiful in every single way
Yes, words can't bring me down
So don't you bring me down today
I screamed a single line and laughed. I've heard that song once, and of course it's one of those songs that you can recite word by word after you've heard it. Wrong move.
A girl across the room says loudly. "You know her song?"
"Why wouldn't I?" I ask. "I may be busy, but I don't live under a rock."
"I just thought that you wouldn't like her--" She stops for a moment. "Because of--"
I roll my eyes. "Music is music girl." Of course I don't like this music. I just love being an asshole.
The DJ comes back from the song and starts to ask more questions. "What did the guys think of your new-found thoughts put into lyrics?"
This is the biggest question of the day. I know this has been coming and I don't know if I should say the real thing or if I should say the PC answer. I shrug and decide to take the easy road. "They loved it. They were both very supportive." They would be supportive of anything musical that I wrote, even if it sounded like crap.
"Do you think they would tell you if they didn't like it and would you tell them?"
"Yeah." I look around at the girls in the studio and notice that there aren't really that many of them there. I could easily make eye contact with them all through the show and do a little schmoozing with them. It wouldn't hurt the album to flirt a little. "And I would tell them. I'd jump at the opportunity! They don't want to make shitty music."
"Would you consider doing a solo album? You know, to get your own thoughts out that you couldn't share with the band."
DAMN. I didn't want to deal with this today. I take a deep breath and look at the desktop in front of me for a moment so I can collect my thoughts.
"Why would I rather share my personal feelings with people I don't know?" I watched him completely tune out my question that backfired him. Of course; I made him look like an asshole.
"What's your favorite track on the new album, and will you be touring?"
Another tough one. "It's so hard to pick your favorite song. As a songwriter the tracks are like your children, you love them all the same. As for a tour, We'll be doing a world tour, so Green Day will definitely be all over the place."
"Okay. We have a question from one of our winners," the interviewer says.
A girl walks up to his side of the room. "If you were stranded on a desert island and could only take one member of Green Day with you, who would it be?"
"Probably Tre." I could tell a million stories of why exactly I'd pick him, but I know that he'd go to the end of the world to help him and he'd do the same to me. "I just think he would survive. Yeah, I'll stick with him, he's raw. And dirty."
The interviewer laughs. "What about Mike, there's more of him to eat if things get out of hand?"
I laugh and look away from the girl and close my eyes for a moment. "Yeah, but there's such a difference between protein and gristle!" Everyone in the room laughs their heads off and the girls seem to come towards me, but I think I'm just paranoid at this point.
The next girl in line steps up to the microphone. "Who were your influences when you were younger?
"His Mom and Dad!" someone behind me yells.
I blush a little. I can feel it and I can see someone across the room whispering about it. It's my classic tried and true answer. I can't deny it. They've been through all of my ups and downs and sideways and really have made my life possible to be the way it is.
"Oh man! The biggest influence in my life obviously were my parents, my dad particularly. I know he wasn't around when I started Green Day, but he was always there I think. He taught me how to grow up."
"What about music wise?" the interviewer asks.
I can't remember this guy's name for the life of me. It worries me that it's this early in the day and I can't remember, but it doesn't seem to matter as I answer. "As far as music is concerned; The Clash, Ramones, The Sex Pistols, the list goes on and on--"
"With all the comparisons people are debating between Green Day and The Sex Pistols, do you worry that people are going to expect you to live up to his standards?"
"I think any artist takes something from their influences and then makes it their own." Simple. I think I'm done with this interview. I'm bored. "You know you can't put a scale on something that's already been a phenomenon. I think as time goes by, people will see who we are."
"That seems to be a good way to end this section of our program." Yes.
"... I know that Billie has other things to get off to and we need to do some station business too. It's been a pleasure Billie Joe."
"Thanks," I say not knowing what else to do.
When I look up Vivian is in the hallway. She has a bag in her hand and a smile on her face. Wes seems to see this and sigh knowing that I'd be bitching about it if I didn't eat soon.
I say my goodbyes, pose for a few pictures then leave the station and head back to the car.
"Here's breakfast," Vivian says handing me a bag and a drink. I open the bag and look inside. "What is this?" I ask.
She smiles one of those almost wicked smiles and keeps her eyes on the bag. "Just open it in the car and you'll see."
In the car I get comfortable and then open the bag. What I find is a banana and then a small plastic container about the size of a cheeseburger. I open it up and find myself faced with something that definitely isn't a turn over. "What is this?" I ask as peach hits my nose.
"Take a bite," she says and dials her phone.
"Is this what I think it is?"
"Maybe," Vivian says. "Hello Maxine. I have Billie there in a few moments for you to talk to. He's just finishing up a bite of breakfast."
I take a bite of the desert looking thing in the container and know instantly that my day will get worse from here. It's peach cobbler. I don't know how she smuggled it to me, but I know that my day must be insane if she's bribing me with mom's cooking.
"I love you," I say instantly licking my lips and taking a swig of water. I reach into my pocket and see that I now have five messages then hold it in one hand as I finish eating my bite and get ready for my interview. "For the moment anyway." I look at the phone. "Who is this?"
"Like you care," she says and hands the phone to me, taking my bottle of water from me.
I haven't a clue where we're going and my mind slips to wondering about that as I'm asked the same questions over and over again. Do they understand how annoying it is to answer the same stuff over and over? I wish I could just do one big press conference and have everyone there. They'd never go for it though. They all want their little exclusive even though even an exclusive anymore isn't that exclusive.
"Where did the title of your new CD, American Idiot, come from?" A woman asks this with a very polite tone as if she's bothering me to ask it.
Thank God. A new question! I smile out the window and people watch as I answer. New York at this point of the day looks the same wherever I am. People are all on their way to work. I imagine myself sometimes as a business man, but I never think I could be stuck in an office for more than a few days in a row.
Right now I'm never in one city more than a few days. Except for this summer when I had the flu and stayed in California for ten days because I couldn't travel, I've been in at least five cities every two weeks since I was twenty-three.
"Well, it seems as if there is one permanent individual who stands as a weight for others. So to me there is only one real idiot in America. And to another extent, we are all American Idiots." It seems like every time you do something, you always have a reason. It's not a complete truthful answer, but it leaves me being the total package when I'm done.
"Do you have a favorite song on your new CD?"
"Well, American Idiot is fun to play, but I guess I don't really have a favorite." That was a good day definitely. "When you write a bunch of songs they're like your babies. You don't pick favorites.
"Did you write most of your songs?"
I roll my eyes, clearly someone didn't do their research or the person on the end of this phone clearly isn't prepared to talk to me right now. "Yeah, I wrote all of them."
"Wow!"
"Yeah," I say. "I write all of our songs. Give or take a few, too."
My eyes go to the list of calls that are showing up on my phone and I see that three are from LA and two are from California which means Mom or Adie are trying to call me.
"So what was it like working on your first comeback album?"
"It was fun!" I put my phone away into my pocket again and move my watch around on my wrist before my hand slides over my eyes for a moment and strain to sound excited. I'm starting to hit the wall. I need more caffeine or something to get me going again. Food would be nice, but I can't talk and eat.
I rub my eyebrows back and forth then wipe a hand over my chin. I'm going to need to shave sometime this morning before I go on camera. "At first I was a little nervous about how the sound would come out, but once we did the first few songs, I was happy! We were moving in a good direction."
The interviewer pauses for a moment and I take a bite of my cobbler.
"Is there anything that no one knows about you?"
"Nope." I lick my lips and pray that this lie goes through.
What kind of fucking question is that? Of course tell everyone everything about me. Fuck, everyone knows the noises I make during sex even. Absolutely. Fucking idiot.
Everyone knows that there are a billion and one things I keep from the press. It's getting harder and harder to do that, but I know it's something I have to savor. Many stars have done Cribs and I haven't. I'm really not into people seeing where I sleep, where I eat and frankly where I take a shit. I mean that has nothing to do with the performer that I am and I really don't see the point of it. When we were making "Diary" back with Blink 182 I had to fight tooth and nail to only be followed during working hours. They could have followed me home that weekend, and they did.
"You all pretty much know everything about me."
"What was your biggest challenge in doing an album with this concept?"
Again people must not understand what it's really like to break away from something that has totally made you who you are.
"My biggest challenge was to make sure that it was an honest piece of work; that the songs I wrote were who I am. And to make sure Mike and Tre fully understood where I was coming from. It was important that it would be almost like I took the words right of their mouths."
"Were you aiming for a specific audience when recording your CD?"
I have to think about this one a little bit. No one has really asked me about this. I know that deep down I had a little bit of an idea about who I wanted to make this CD for and the label definitely wanted to market it towards my fans from Green Day, but also a more Urban crowd too. I can't say that though. I mean everyone already knows that, but I can never single out any one group or I'll totally alienate another group.
Alienate. What a perfect word for my life. I feel right now that the more this day and this career goes along, the more I'm moved away from normal society towards this realm of people that live in this parallel world. I mean, Mike is there. And Tre is there and Mom is around, but really the only one that lives this life is me. And David.
"Not really, I just wanted to be me." I shrug and look at Vivian who is waving for me to get off the phone. She somehow has produced another phone from thin air and says with a wave and frantic soundless speech that I need to take that call.
"Thanks for talking to me," the interviewer says.
I can't remember this one's name either so I cover it up. "Well it was fun talking to you. I hope your readers like what I have to say."
"I'm sure they will," she says. I hang up that phone and am handed another cell phone.
When I take the other phone from Vivian she smiles. "Getting tired yet?" she cocks her head to the side and gives me a slightly sympathetic look. I don't know if I like her smile like that or not. If she starts being nice to me I always know that something bad is coming up so I know that I should prepare myself for something now.
"No," I say, "But when we get to the next stop I've got to pee." It sucks to have to basically ask permission to do that, but even that can mess up my schedule. I point to the phone. "Who is this?"
"It's Sarah," Vivan says.
I glare at the phone as if it's slimy or whatever. You know that face I always use when something isn't up to my standards. "What?"
"J-14." Vivian doesn't look at me. She's clicking through her palm pilot to find phone numbers again. "Sarah wanted to be the one to interview you so I said that it would be okay."
"Shit," I say and make sure that the microphone is covered. Personally I have nothing against Sarah. When she and Mike broke things off early last year I had to side with him instead of her, but it wasn't that I hated her, it was just that loyalty dictated that I side with my friend instead of the girl's. It could have been anyone and I still would have sided with Mike on things.
It's unfair that way, but boys will be boys and girls will be girls and at the moment I know that Mike and Tre side with me on a lot of the issues that come up between me and Adie in the press. "Shoot me already. When Mike finds out about this--"
Vivian only glances at me and in a not so convincing voice says, "It's going to be okay."
I roll my eyes and throw my hood up around my head. "Hello?"
"Hey Billie."
I close my eyes. "Hi Sarah."
"I don't want to be too formal about this or anything, but I just wanted to ask you a few questions about the new album."
"How many?" I ask knowing that she's the only one I can get away with saying that to.
She seems suddenly nervous with me. "Like five or six?"
"Go ahead," I say moving around in my seat a little before I remember that I have food with me in the car. "But I'll warn you now I'm not going to say anything about my love-life."
"That's fine," she says. "I'm going to tape this conversation onto my answering machine so I can go back and write it all out later. Okay?"
This is probably something my lawyer should be answering, but I figure that it's Sarah and I can always hang up on her if I want to. "Fine."
She shuffles papers in the background. "What was the last book you read?"
My eyes scan the scene outside. I'll never get tired of looking at NYC buildings. No matter how often I visit there are always new things that are up or taken down or just turned a different way. The same street can look completely different too if you're heading on it uptown versus downtown. Every little part of it is different.
"I just finished reading something called The Prophet. It's by an early-twentieth century poet and philosopher Kahlil Gibran. It's kind of poetic. I like self-help books. I like books that I feel I got something from that I can apply to my life."
Sarah clears her throat and takes a drink of water. "A five year old kid named his hamster Billie Joe in your honor. What's the weirdest thing like that that a fan's ever done?
"The weirdest thing--" I have to think about this for a while. "The weirdest thing, I've ever seen was a tattoo this girl had of me on her whole arm." Vivian looks up from her work and shakes her head at me. "It was from her shoulder bone all the way down to her forearm, she had a portrait of me. Initially, I was a bit stunned. I saw it when I was onstage, and it broke up my whole freakin' routine. I didn't know what to do. And then I look over and she's got Mike all over her other arm."
"Really?" Sarah says. "Mike never told me about that?"
I don't say anything. I don't want to talk about him or anything that should have or shouldn't have been said to her. I'm not going to step into that fight if I don't have to.
She seems to understand that I don't want to move the conversation in that direction. "What CDs are you playing on your stereo right now?"
"I'm enthused by so many different things. But right now I can't get From First to Last out of my stereo. I think they're the greatest band of this generation -- it's between them and Chiodos."
"That's so not what I thought you'd say," she comments.
"Yeah well I change up my sounds a lot so I don't get caught in one style."
"Cool." She moves on. "You're obsessed with shoes, aren't you? How many pairs of them do you own?"
"An incredible amount." My eyes scan the street and I know we're coming up on the street where NYLA is. I haven't been on this street in about eight months and I don't know if I should be on the phone when it happens. "A lot." I know I sound vague with my answer so I try to concentrate. "I gave half of them away to the Salvation Army, and I problem still have around 800 pairs. Shoe companies have found out that I collect them, so they send me all these free shoes. That's obviously the best thing about doing what I do -- all the free stuff, all the swag."
Vivian's hand comes to rest on my arm and her eyes stare straight out the window. I don't know what she's doing, but she seems to have turned into a deer caught in headlights.
"What's wrong Vivian?"
"Don't look," she says not blinking her eyes.
"Don't look at what?"
I turn my head and see Katie coming out of NYLA with her security guard Spanky, her friend Amy, and her boyfriend Timber. There are photographers all over the place taking pictures. My breath catches in my throat as we stop at a stoplight.
"Billie?"
"Hold on Sarah." I pull the phone away from my face and place it in my lap. My hand goes to the handle of the door.
"Don't do it Billie," Vivian says. "D lock the doors on him."
My ears can only hear my heart beating and my eyes are like Vivian's. I don't blink. I don't even breathe I think until she disappears into the car on the curb that was there for her.
"Billie don't do it." Vivan repeats her plea and her hand digs into my arm. If she had longer nails I'm sure that I'd be bleeding right now. For the moment I feel only pressure and not the pain of the grip she has on my arm. "D lock the doors and get us out of here."
"What's wrong?" Wes says from the front seat.
"Katie," Vivan says in a hushed voice as if she'll be heard through the glass windows of the car.
D looks again in the back and just as my hand starts to open the door I hear the click of the door locking me in.
"Lock the door on him."
"It's locked."
Vivian takes the phone from my lap. "Sarah. Billie's brother just called and he has to take this call. I'll make sure that he calls you back in a few minutes."
My hand moves from the door and I put my hand on my knee. My palm is sweating so I rub it on my jeans and then I turn to Vivian. My mouth is slightly open and I finally close it.
"Are you sure?" Vivian says and puts her hand on my leg. She's still on the phone, but if she was asking me that question at the moment I'd have to tell her that I wasn't sure. I wasn't at all sure that I should have left the woman I've been in love with since I was eighteen behind. I shouldn't have been gone so much.
If I hadn't been there then she wouldn't have had any reason to do what she did.
Vivian hangs up the phone. "Sarah says thanks for the interview and if you have time later on call her so she can get you in again."
I lick my lips and look out the window again already feeling the tears at the corners of my eyes. "Yeah," I say, "I'll call her back later and thank her."
"Billie?"
"Hmm?" I say.
"Are you going to be okay?"
I swallow and turn back to her and force a smile. "Uh--yeah. Fine."
Her grip on me loosens and she puts a hand up to my face. "Really?"
My eyes catch Wes looking at me. I don't like the expression on his face. "Yeah," I say and push her hand away. "I'm fine."
"I'm going to tell MTV that we're on the way and that you need to have the green room to yourself for a while."
I reach out to grab the phone away. "Vivian you don't need to--"
She gets suddenly busy. "I'll just tell them that you need a minute to rest before you start your tapings."
"You don't have to," I say. "I'm fine. I mean I knew this would--" My voice catches in my throat.
"Maybe I should tell them that you shouldn't tape today."
Suddenly I see that there are tears in her eyes and I don't understand why. I know that she would side with me, like how I would side with Mike, but I wouldn't cry over anything. "Vivian?"
She continues to look for the MTV number. "I know it's here somewhere. I need to call Dave Sira--sira whatever his name is. You know that producer guy?"
"Vivian."
"What?" She looks up and there are tears in her eyes now for sure.
I want to ask her about the tears but this isn't the time or place for that. I may not have a clue why she's crying, but I know it's not something simple and would need a big explanation. I sigh. "Just tell them that I need about a half hour to chill out and finish my breakfast. Don't cancel. I'll be fine."
"Are you sure?"
I'm definitely not sure about this. I knew that I'd have to see her sooner or later. I got through seeing her before. "I'm sure."
"Fine," she says. "I'll call them and tell them."
"Thanks," I say and I look out the window again. We're like six streets away now turning towards Viacom studios where MTV is at. The fans are lined up around the building and our stage for this afternoon's performance is already set up and ready. I wasn't able to do sound check, but I'm sure everything is going to be fine.
Everything is going to be fine. Maybe if I keep saying that I'll actually believe it one of these days.
