thurstonthomas

[thurstonthomas]

𝖇𝖊𝖆 𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖗𝖊𝖘

—Open Starter @exclusivestarters (0/4)  Location: The Phoenix Club (Bea’s music venue) 

Bea was used to people hanging around at the end of the night, hoping to snag a drumstick or sneak backstage — at this point, Bea had seen it all. She was weary to all the tricks, so while half her mind was on the tangle of cords at her feet, the other half was firmly on the person standing not too far away. “Before you ask, no, I won’t give the singer your number, I have no idea if any of them are dating, and bad luck for you, they already snuck out the back right after encore…” 

chastised at being so transparent in his interest,  thurston ducked his head,  then glanced back up and plastered on an easy,  broad grin.  “ i’m not like, looking to ask for their number for dating reasons i just — ” he trailed off.

“ see, i'm a muscian as well and i thought if i could meet them maybe… ”  thurston shook his head. “ it was a dumb idea. but hey, maybe you can help: do you know of anyone looking for a guitarist? i'm trying to find a band. ”

[thurstonthomas]

about · stats

Not everyone can say they’ve been to the Big Apple, but  [ THURSTON THOMAS ], a [ 23 ] year-old [ NONBINARY PERSON ] has lived in [ QUEENS ] for [ 1 YEAR ]. This is the city of dreams and [ HE ] knows it, because they came to NYC to be a [ MUSICIAN ]. Well, that and as the [ NEWCOMER ]. Living in the city means they meet all kinds of people, but everyone always seems to think they look like [ ADRIAN GREENSMITH ]. They even got away with free cab fare once because of it!

cw : mental illness, accidental overdose (non-lethal), death in the family.

music has been in his blood since day one. his dad had some success in the 1990s touring with his band, before his days on the road were cut short when his girlfriend slash bandmate got pregnant. his dad became a stay at home husband for a bit while his mom finally took the teaching job she’d been putting off since she decided to do music full-time. neither of them regretted this choice, as they were fond of telling thurston. that said, there were always going to be some drawbacks to being born to young, isolated, inexperienced parents. his dad was twenty when he was born, his mom twenty-six.

for one, there was the name: thurston, for thurston moore of sonic youth. years of being nicknamed thirsty by uncreative elementary school kids got him to the point of going by thurston or ‘nothing at all’. most of the kids preferred the latter, ignoring him altogether or just calling him ‘freak’. perhaps that was when he really started to feel the change coming on within.

his parents had cleaned up their image. his dad’s long hair was cropped short for his own new job, his mom had taken her piercings out, dyed her hair back to brown. the b-movie posters and tacky collectable mugs that had littered his house his whole childhood were superseded by nice wallpaper, matching glasses that came new from homesense. his parents had fully gone the yuppie route, and they’d stray back away later, but at the time that he was entering high school, he felt a need to rebel against this beige-washing, to return to what he felt had been the glory days.

out came sonic youth, pavement, the pixies, sebadoh, 12 rods, sloan, asrielle — out came the alternative. the cds, records, and cassettes that his parents had stacked away reemerged in his bedroom, blasted to deafening through his cheap headphones. he studied the music of his parents’ peers with an almost religious reverence, and with his dad’s old candy apple red telecaster in hand, he began to teach himself the music he’d grown up on.

after high school finally ended he was desperate to get away. university was the obvious answer, until he failed out a year in. he soon learned that he’d been accommodated by his teachers his entire school career up until that point, and without the forgiveness for habitually late or undone homework and assignments, without the support of the two friends he’d had, he essentially had a breakdown. the school doctor diagnosed him with adhd, and on the final day of class an accidental overdose of his prescribed medication left him feeling so wretched that he tossed the bottle the next day. he came home to skulk around his home like an overgrown bat, until his parents finally put their foot down: do something, or he’d have to go stay with his grandparents. at that time, it seemed like the answer was obvious.

his grandparents lived up north, in the muskoka region. cottage country, people called it. all it meant to him was that he went from relative business of guelph to near silence, 90% of the year. thurston couldn’t drive, and the only internet at the house was dial-up, so his world narrowed to music and his grandparents. he got really good at chess, and gardening, and swimming, and also, somewhere in there, music. he’d finally tipped over the point where he could cover a song and just, understand it. the music made sense.

at this point he decided to try post-secondary education again. maybe university wasn’t for him, but college could be fun. he went for film and television, based on some vague childhood notion of wanting to work in movies. all his old issues cropped back up, but one thing was different: he’d found a band. after spotting a ‘guitarist wanted’ ad on a corkboard, he’d auditioned, and got it. for the next year and a half he and the band were inseparable. and then, he failed out of school. again.

he came home and returned to his earlier routine, until his granddad died. suddenly, it was a whirlwind. his grandma was selling the house and moving into his old room with his parents, while he slept on the couch. his parents were doing their best for her and for thurston, but he knew he was in the way. so he found his dad’s address book and copied down his aunt’s new york city address. she’d always said he was welcome to come visit when she used to come down for christmas, so he figured it was worth a shot.

with a backpack of clothing and his guitar case, he got the first bus to new york, only telling his dad that he’d figured out a place to live. of course, when he got to his aunt’s address, it turned out she’d moved. great. thuston was at his wits end when he all but stumbled into the dive bar, but it turned out to be just the move. spilling his guts drunkenly somehow solved all his problems: a place to stay, and a job. nevermind that he didn’t technically have a visa — the whole thing was under the table, for cash and room and board, and he was more than happy to take what he could get.