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Joined 04-22-09, id: 1910380, Profile Updated: 06-03-12
Author has written 2 stories for Wicked, and Harry Potter.

Avril Lavigne (at the Verizon Arena, NH) - 4/13/08

Meg & Dia (at The Station, ME) - 2/7/09

Wicked - Nicole Parker & Alli Mauzey

Gershwin Theatre, NY
4/18/09

The 207 - 5/8/09 (at Jester's Food & Spirits, ME), 5/15/09 (at the Cohen Arena, ME), 8/8/09 (at Jester's)

Owl City - 23/06/11 (at The Roseland Ballroom, NYC), August 11 (at the AX Hall, Seoul, South Korea)

18 August 2010

Foster The People 07/07/12 (at The Cosmopolitan)*

--
Whenever I am pumping gas I wonder if I am killing anyone. Like, really killing them. Every little thing we do changes everything. I am in a hurry. I am late. I am impatient. I don't want to wait the whole five minutes it takes to fill up a gas tank. I only need a quarter tank to get to point A anyhow. It'll even last me the way back home and then some. My thumb is hurting. They don't have the little stubs you can put the button in anymore so it'll stick and pump it for you. But wait. I see it then. I see it. Me being lazy...pumping the gas to 2/3 full. My friend asking to borrow my car...

Sure I say. ...

Why not I say...

She takes my car. She notices the gas tank light is on after a long drive. So instead of going straight to her boyfriend's house, she takes a right instead of a left, to go into the gas station. While she is taking a right, that "right," Thee Right, a person in another car texts her boyfriend, "Last night was amazing," and isn't paying attention. And then boom...

The car turning right, my friend, and the other car, with the very sexually satisfied girl collide into a big mess of red. Red like a big Picasso Painting. A blur of color, and then lack of color, and then bland color, like his "Paul in a Clown suit." The color in his shoes are missing. His lips are turned down. My friends lips are turned down. Screaming. Blood. Her hip is crushed. She needs help. Her arm is caught. Her earring is torn out. The earring with the pink flowers on them, the ceramic glass. There is blood. Everywhere. ...

I am pumping my gas. Whistling to Tom Petty. ...

"Half of me is ocean, Half of me is sky. You've got a heart so big. It could crush this town..."...

A car window rolls down. ...

"Hey, ya done yet? Could you pull up? I've been waiting here man."...

Yeah, yeah, man. I am almost done. Little do they know I've just killed someone. How in the world am I supposed to know how much gas to put into my car to not kill anyone?...

Damn it...

When I was writing for "Here, Here, and Here." That's kind of how I felt all the time. That uneasiness. Tension. C.S. Lewis said, ...

"No one is a coward at all points." ...

So why did I feel so helpless... I felt like I had a lot, but I shouldn't say it all, because it was too much of me. ...

I had become a chronic sleeper. ...

People were trying to push some sort of made up, freakish Renaissance on me. Wake me up. ...

But I hated it...

I hated all the people talking about my life in such a prosaic way...

You're sad. Fix it...

Well, I didn't know how one became crazy. Was it when they started seeing Ghosts? Or when the Ghosts actually gave them a number to call...

Because I had heard it all at that point...

I was going through a break up. I was still in love...

I was begging my manager in a very pathetic way to find me a boy immediately. Someone to get my mind away from him. Him. That boy. Beautiful blue eyes. I had started talking to him again. We knew it was a bad idea for both of us...

I felt like I had fallen into a rut. Like I saw myself making mistakes, right as I was making them but couldn't stop myself. I was opaque, asleep in a deep dream, never to wake up. The only thing that kept me busy was music. That is when I wrote "Inside my head." I wrote it in an hour. I vomited it out. Lyrics, the entire mess. After an hour, and 7 peanut butter energy bars later, I felt a release. I wrote down everything I wished I could say straight to him. But the worst part of it all, is in the lyrics in the song...I am a much braver person. I write about my life. But I make myself more courageous. When I would have run...in the song, I stay. When I would cry for sympathy, in the song I cry for relief. Everything I was too afraid to say to him, I would say in the song. With strength. Presence. I am a coward. In music, I am brave. I am Arthur. I am every hero in Victor Hugo's books. I am Marius. I am #24601. I am John Galt. ...

I kept writing. Meg would come in and show me songs on her computer she had written all to herself. Her "babies." She showed me "Agree to Disagree," which she had written late one night after a weird party in Silverlake. She said the coffee helped to wake her up. She first played it for me sitting under a lemon tree at our friend's house, decked out in the same clothes she had worn (and slept in) the previous day. Smeared make up. She was sad and happy at once. And I think...in that song you can hear it. ...

She wrote "Are there Giants too, in the Dance?" During her political inner struggle. All her sign holdings for Ron Paul 2008 at every local mall didn't really get her anywhere, but at least she stood up for her own beliefs. She is no coward. I didn't go with her to hold signs. I was too scared. I found excuses, places I "Had to be." But go ahead Meg...have fun, good luck...

Coward...

My gas tank is 1/4 full...

She wrote the lyrics for "Here, here, and here" about our lives...my life too. And she got it all right. She didn't add anything cool. She didn't make me seem brave. Nothing was erroneous. She got me down on paper and I couldn't even do it without embellishing. ...

That night, I went back to "Inside me Head," and I opened up the lyrics. ...

I pulled them out...

I crossed a lot out...

And I told the truth...

The gas tank was full...

The truth was always indelible anyway. And there it was...

Everyone who hears it, I suppose, can take all my words and hear them how they want. Everything was axiomatic to my band. But they know me better than I do anyway...

" Going away," I wrote at the very beginning of my break up. When I was most afraid, so in turn, I felt the strongest, the most sanguine. It lasted only a week, that strength, that hope, that spirit, but while it lasted it was real. It was the most courageous I had felt in a long while, and I wrote the most optimistic sad song I could, and that is what I got. I wrote it in a venue in California. The doors weren't open yet. But the first band started sound checking so it got really loud. It was too hot in the van, so I went back inside and found my way into a bathroom. The reverb was nice in my computer microphone. The lady who worked there started vacuuming outside. You can still hear it in certain parts. I wrote that song in a half hour. Everything. And then I went and showed Meg, Nick, Carlo, and Jonathan. They liked it. I wasn't sure about it. I am never really sure about my stuff. Meg is very honest with me though, so since she liked it , I figured it was ok. It stayed. And now it is a constant reminder that I can be strong, I can have faith that things will get better...I can hang in there, go all the way. I proved to be right. I am a much healthier, happier, more level-headed person now. ...

My gas tank was half full...and I didn't think about killing anyone...

I thought that if anyone died...

I would remember them...remember what they taught me...what they gave me, and to never forget it. The only shame in someone dying, is that we don't remember what they taught us, that we don't remember the love that was there...

"If all that you take from this is, courage than I've no regrets."...

That is when Meg and I finished the lyrics for "I wanted to kiss you goodnight."...

Love for people...

I remember my friend. Two men on both sides of her, lifting her up off the mattress, holding her weak body over a bucket so she could pee. She couldn't stand herself. She had brain cancer. She was languid. Always sweating. She would lie in bed, convalescent, but failing with each passing day. She still made sure I got the recipe for the best damn lemon meringue pie ever though. She told me we would finish the puzzle "later." The puzzle was lilypads...purple flowers. A dark lake. And I told her I would remember everything...that i would be fine. I wouldn't crawl into that "dark hole" my friends hated so much. I would remember the good times. Put her ashes in the soil of my fruit trees...I promised her that. But again, I made myself more brave than I was. So the day before I laid down vocals for "Kiss you goodnight," I changed the lyrics to the last chorus...

I sat at the cheap table. Bottle of water. And I was honest again. ...

"I wanted to tell you I lied. I said 'I'd make it through this world alright but I don't care to try.'"...

Then I drank more water, went pee about 5 times in an hour, and sat around and watched The Princess Bride until I could recite all of the lines during the fight scene on top of the cliffs of insanity. It seemed appropriate...

He still called me sometimes...

I still picked up all the time...

I still hung up crying all the time, however, just like my songs, when I was on the phone...I didn't care. "Whatever you say," I would say. "I don't care anymore," I would say...

I lie so much sometimes It becomes true. ...

Then there came the zombies. They are real, he said. They live in Montana, he said. I have a number you can call...they come visit me all the time. Real dead people I thought. Maybe my 1/2 tank of gas really did kill someone. In fact, I was sure of it at that point...

I called the number...

I still have the number in my phone, under the name of Daniel. That is the name he gave me. I was going to call this Daniel, and tell him to stop coming around with him. That he was hurting him. It needed to stop. No more creeping in at night. No more stealing his laundry. No more talking about me. I didn't like the idea of someone talking about me to him. I did not like the idea of Daniel talking to him. I did not like the idea that I thought that Daniel did not exist. I did not like the idea that he thought he did. That he talked to him all the time. I called. No one answered. It was indeed a Montana number. I looked up the area code...

I wrote the lyrics to "What if"...

I wrote out a recipe for Pesto Pasta...

I wrote out a list of all the possible people I could potentially kill from not correctly filling up my gas tank...

I was a sarcastic bitch and asked if Daniel could tell me how much gas to put into my car...

When relationships go sour, and people say that the other person did "this, and this and this..." I am not one of those in completion. Sure, I do the complain and blame game, but most of the time, I turn my finger around and point it at me. I did, "this and this and this." I am the bad person, too. I am the crazy person, too. If we don't turn our fingers...we never learn...

I was still in love...

I was still begging my manager to find me any guy. Any guy at all Mike, any guy! He found me one. He picked me up in his car. I had never met him before. He worked at a record company. He drank a lot. He played guitar hero. He rode bikes...all the time. I am talking about 20 or more miles a day in one go. He told me we were going to go grab food at the 101. The highway? I said. No he said. He laughed. Cafe 101. I got a grilled cheese. I talked nervously. I didn't keep eye contact. I coughed up half of my salad. I thought everyone was staring at me. Why is she wearing those shoes I bet they thought. Why is her hair so thin? Why is HE with HER. Is that the girl that killed all those people with her 3/4 full gas tank?...We left. He didn't kiss me goodnight. I went home. I vomited. I went to bed nervous...so I didn't sleep well. "He" called me again that night. I didn't answer for the first time in forever. No zombies tonight. No, no no...

He called me back...the bike rider. He was funny. He made me laugh all the time. I started watching more movies like The Princess Bride. I started listening to The Beach Boys again. I started having problems writing what I had written so easily before because I was becoming happy. ...

Mike, our manager called me one night...

Dia, you've stopped writing, he said...

Yeah...I guess...

Why? He said. ...

Because I don't feel like I can write anything honest right now. There is nothing in me...

Ok. Well you should keep writing anyway. Even if it is crap. We can sift through the crap later...

Uhm...Ok. I said...

I wrote 7 songs in 7 days. They were all crap...

The boy who rode bikes gave me one of his favorite books. "Brave New world." I read half of it in one day. I really liked it. ...

Phone rang...

Mike...

Where are your songs? You've stopped writing again. The label is paying thousands of dollars for you to live out in L.A. and you aren't even working. This isn't a vacation Dia...

I can't write right now though, Mike. I am going to dinner with the boy who rides bikes...

You can't go...

I'm 20. Yes I can...

No, you have to write...

Ok. Fine. I will write a song and send it to you later...

By tonight. ...

I can't do that Mike. C'mon man...

By tonight. This isn't a vacation, and you have work to do. The more songs, the better. You have to push yourself to your limits and then some...I pulled the phone away. Rolled my eyes. You could still hear him going at it. ...

Ok. By tonight. Sure, sure. ...sheesh...see ya later...

I went out with the boy who rides bikes. He took me to a restaurant where you have to order something over 40. I ordered an appetizer, and I had to get something else. Minimum of 40 waiter told me. I looked at the boy who rode bikes. I felt awkward, bad, uncomfortable. He smiled. Why don't you order another appetizer he said. I did. The boy who rode bikes made me laugh, so soon I wasn't so awkward. I came home...

I didn't want to write a song...

I had nothing to say, except I was happy...and I am bad at writing happy songs that aren't cliche..most the time. ...

I thought about Mike...

Oh well I thought. Mike will get over it...

I started reading...

I didn't stop reading...and I finished the whole thing. It was 4 a.m. ...

I started crying. The book was my life. It was the way I was raised, it was my family, my environment, my school, boyfriends, friends. I felt like the Author knew me. I cried when the "savage" did what he did. I was the savage too. ...

And even though Meg and I had decided our new record was not going to be about books and literature like our first, it was going to be about "us," I started writing, "Hug me till you Drug me." I named it that, because that is the name of a song in the book, "Brave new World." It is a song the savage mom sings to her savage child, or so I remember...

I thought about that song in the book, and that line. I wonder what that song sounded like I thought. And then I wrote it. ...

I wrote it all. That is what it sounded like I bet, I thought. I was exhausted. I went to sleep. ...

The next day, I woke up around 1 in the afternoon. I went to my computer to listen to the song with fresh ears. Meg was sitting at it...

Yo. Can you check your e-mail on your computer...? I need mine. I was annoyed...

This song is really good! She said. She said it really loud because she had headphones on...

Really. I said. ...

Here. Listen. She handed me her huge headphones...

She had already added bass to it. Guitar. Lead guitar. An instrumental break. Harmonies. Drums. Strings. ...

It did sound good...

This was going to be a good day...

We went out to our favorite french/italian restaurant and got Spaghetti with spinach meatballs. I came home and watched South Park on my computer for 3 hours. I thought about how many things they had to make fun of me for...they would have a ball I thought...

Finished they lyrics for one sail. Meg helped me with the melody in the bridge and verse. It used to be about my favorite Victor Hugo book, "Toilers of the Sea." But that was back when I first wrote it in 2007. I changed all the lyrics, after one guy, at a bar in Kansas came up to me, and instead of saying, "I like your hair," or, "are you here alone?" He said, "Hey, are you a navy brat?" And I was taken aback. Then I said No. But my father was. And then we talked. And then I went home and rewrote all the lyrics about my father, and his influence on me, and his parents. ... My grandma and grandpa, with one of the greatest, true love stories of all time...

They're both dead now...

And they died before I could drive. It wasn't my fault...

But while they were alive...they were in love. ...

And it was real...

And that is what I want someday...

My life was finally coming together more though. I changed out of my sweat pants more often. Put on make up more often. Washed my hair more often. I started going to the gym everyday. Boy who rode bikes took me to a Bruce Springsteen concert. Tom from Rage against the machine came out and played a guitar solo. I cried. I kept making sure boy who rode bikes didn't spill his beer on the guy sitting in front of us. Boy who rode bikes kissed me and recommended books to me and took me out for ice cream. Boy who rode bikes kept making me laugh all the time. I really liked the boy who rode bikes. "He" still called me. He stopped seeing Zombies. I thought we could become us again. I was naive. So was he. I was still in love. ...

I was reading a lot into theology. All of my friends from high school kept asking for my new address in L.A. so they could send me wedding invitations. They were all 19 or 20... I read Buddhist books. I loved them. I read many C.S. Lewis Christian books. I loved them. My best friend was Catholic. I asked her questions. All my friends who were getting married were Mormon. I asked them questions. Meg is Atheist. I asked her questions. Carlo is Christian. He has read the Bible many a time. I asked him Questions. I asked Nick. How the hell should I know he would say. That was the best answer I had heard all month. I was confused. I prayed a lot. I read a lot. I asked questions a lot. I started writing Black Wedding. Most people think it is a "cute little dance rock song." It is the song about everything I believe. It is about my Apostasy. It is about my search for ascertainable fact. It is about people who feign their own religion...who bend their rules. -Honesty is good. But I can lie to Jack...because Jack lied to Jill- It is about parents who raise their kids on a certain religion without allowing them to explore their own ideas. Their family get togethers, educations, talks, which they would claim are not compulsory, but they are nothing short of coercive. It is about this idea: A girl raised in a Catholic family most likely will be Catholic. A girl raised in a Lutheran family will most likely be Lutheran. It is about people praying that their son's baseball team will win, while human hunger is still present all across the nations. It is about over 75 of marriages today, sadly, ending in divorce because of quick engagements, and a lack of patience. It is about my feelings of loss, not 'belonging" to any one religion, and trying to find my own god...trying to give love, like I think he would. It is a song about endless searching, and about being blind to everything around you. It is , to this day, also, the song where the sarcastic side of my personality is let loose with no restraint. (Anyone who knows me will know I am a very sarcastic person. Anyone who does not will think I am a brat). ...

Every day passed on. I was still confused. I was sad. But I got my balance of happy with Boy who rides bikes. I spent time with my best friend Hannah. We would get frozen yogurt together. Look at clothes online. Go swimming. She would laugh at me and say, "Geez Dia. When is the last time you shaved your legs?! Put some pants on next time you swim!" The writing process was coming to a close. Meg was hardly ever away from her guitar, almost to the point where I felt it was unhealthy. This is when I wrote "Fighting for Nothing." The most important song to me, lyrically, on the entire record. It is my life. It is calling me out. Dia you are a coward. But it is also saying, Dia, I know you can be brave. I have seen it before. I wrote it in an hour. Everything. There was no loss for words. Everything came out. I wrote it on a guitar...I usually write on the piano. Meg was using my piano in the other room to write out string parts for "Here, here and here." ...

"Fighting for Nothing," is the one song, that if I died, (probably from someone filling up the gas tank the wrong level) I would want people to have...people to hold onto. A friend once told me that he was born to fight vikings. He was born to do something great...to stand up and bare his teeth. And that is what he taught me...and that is what I am sharing. It is all of me. It, I realized a couple weeks after I wrote it, is just about trying to give other people the courage I lacked. The courage to fight their own battles. To speak of what they want...

"I've got my mouth. It's a weapon. It's a bombshell. It's a cannon. I've got my words, and I won't give them mercy."...

That is what I hope everyone always does. This album is very personal to me. But if it means anything to anyone, I did not hold back. No mercy. No shadowing it, "to make it more appropriate for a mass audience." I told you what I think about things you aren't supposed to talk about. Religion. Marriage. War. Politics. Love. Music. Vanity. Rape. Death. It's all there. And that is all I have. My mouth. My weapon. ...

"I've got my words...I hope they hurt you. I hope they heal you."...

I hope this song gives people strength to think on there own. I hope our record gives you hope. I hope it offends you. My dad always said, "If 1000 people disagree with me...that doesn't mean they are right."...

I hope this record, (here's where it gets super cheesy if it hasn't already), hits you here, ...

here,...

and, here...

: Your heart, your mind, and your ears...

So much love...

Dia Frampton

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Will this Nightmare Never End? by Wicked'elphaba-fiyero reviews
This takes place just as Fiyero runs off with Elphaba. They go to forest like in the play, but are interupted by the Gale Force...
Wicked - Rated: T - English - Chapters: 14 - Words: 21,176 - Reviews: 87 - Favs: 43 - Follows: 36 - Updated: 2/5/2011 - Published: 9/21/2008 - Elphaba T., Fiyero T.
A Prankster Pranked by black4minister reviews
A story I started in the very beginings of my fanfic writing, but have only just finished. The Marauders find themselves getting a taste of their own medicine, but who's to blame? Now finished and complete, yey!
Harry Potter - Rated: K+ - English - Humor/Mystery - Chapters: 5 - Words: 8,177 - Reviews: 16 - Favs: 8 - Follows: 3 - Updated: 11/20/2009 - Published: 10/25/2009 - James P., Sirius B. - Complete
There Are Nights by Kaylle reviews
There are nights, when the moon is full and the skies clear, that he simply lies beside her and watches her sleep. Elphaba/Fiyero, musicalverse, spoilers. Language and sexual content warning.
Wicked - Rated: M - English - Romance - Chapters: 1 - Words: 972 - Reviews: 23 - Favs: 45 - Follows: 8 - Published: 4/6/2008 - Complete
Heat by Tiggy the Hopeless Romantic reviews
Water can cool down a hot day... or heat it up. Musicalverse Fiyeraba
Wicked - Rated: T - English - Romance - Chapters: 1 - Words: 276 - Reviews: 11 - Favs: 15 - Follows: 1 - Published: 11/30/2007 - Elphaba T., Fiyero T. - Complete
Always Forever Never To Be Parted by The Last Duchess reviews
What happened after Elphaba left the Emerald City the night she disappeared? An ElphabaFiyero story based mainly on the Musical but borrowing some details from the book.
Wicked - Rated: M - English - Romance/Angst - Chapters: 1 - Words: 6,055 - Reviews: 13 - Favs: 25 - Follows: 2 - Published: 5/7/2007 - Complete
Sort: Category . Published . Updated . Title . Words . Chapters . Reviews . Status .

The Story of How it All Began reviews
History - the whole series of past events connected with someone or something. Friendship - a state of mutual trust and support between two or more things. When these two words are combined, how does it play out in one's mind?
Harry Potter - Rated: K+ - English - Friendship - Chapters: 1 - Words: 770 - Reviews: 3 - Published: 6/12/2010 - Remus L. - Complete
Don't Trust Me reviews
Where would we all be if we could only know? After finding Elphaba in the Palace after missing her for so long, Fiyero decides to go with her, only to be held back by Glinda. Wandering can only take him so far. No one is to be trusted...not even yourself.
Wicked - Rated: M - English - Romance/Angst - Chapters: 2 - Words: 1,351 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 1 - Follows: 3 - Updated: 7/15/2009 - Published: 7/11/2009 - Elphaba T., Fiyero T.