Lillith Black's blog: "Monsters Down Below"

By Lillith Black (with Lexa Vonn)


Boston MA The House Of Blues 1-26-13


Thankfully, this Greyhound ride was relatively uneventful and short, but just long enough for me to catch a little bit of sleep. The cold however, was doing a number on my hands. Even with gloves and Hot Hands, they were starting to peel, ache, and my cuticles were splitting at the seams. Midway to Boston, I finally got my iPod charger to function long enough to be reminded that my couch surfing host wouldn't be home till after 5:30pm. Due to GH scheduling constraints, my bus wouldn't even be getting into Boston until 11:30/12:00pm, leaving me with almost no time to get ready. Thankfully, by now I am quite well versed in doing make-up on the fly with nothing but a compact and my make-up case. After investigating the loo situation at Southside Terminal, I concluded with the idea that it was going to be too busy to bother with. Having to think quickly, I raced past the ATM, down the escalators, and attempted to hurry the elevator to get me to the street level where I finally located a Dunkin Donuts about a block away. Buying a small coffee to earn myself some customer credibility, I took over the bathroom for the next 20 minutes. As I wrestled with my already overstuffed suitcase, I rushed to get dressed and performed a quick make-up job. I was contemplating plugging in my iron to straighten my hair, when I was interrupted by the staff and some guy looking for his wife.


As if I were Superman, I transformed my appearance from dirty biker to gothic stripper in minutes. Vinyl and corset clad, I kicked open the door and proclaimed, "I don't know where your wife is, buddy… but I sure ain't her!" With a few odd looks from the staff, I scurried across the street and raced back through the bus terminal to the fee ridden ATM where I proceeded to drain both of my accounts dry. I then hopped into the nearest taxi and was off to the venue! Once again, the cabbie didn't know where to go, and unlike my last tour which had extremely low cab rates, the going rates in these parts seemed to be in the $15-$20 range for a couple of miles. Thankfully, there were only 2-3 people waiting outside when I arrived. However, it was about 20 degrees outside and like most HOBs, no part of the venue was open until 1 hour before showtime. The added bonus of this wait was the sports arena across the street, which had an unending "test" announcement to keep me company while I waited for Lindsay, my groupie sidekick of the evening, to find me. Lindsay, who arrived after getting lost, agreed to let me put my stuff in her car. She also gave me a Revelations Bible page for my daily offering to Manson, as I had run out of gifts to give him. After a few hours, doors eventually opened and I followed Lindsay to the Meet & Greet area, where we ran into a few familiar faces from the MM community. Celebratory drinks were bought for all by Adam OD, a fan who has two last names- one that starts with 'O' and one that starts with 'D,' so Lexa has decided that his "Manson" name should be Adam OD.


(It is written and so it is. We're ALL stars in the Dope Show) - Lexa.







There was an authentic absinthe fountain in the Foundation Room at this HOB, but it was only used if you bought an entire bottle. Although I really wanted some, I didn't dare ask our gracious host to flip the bill for that. I was tempted to ask for a Screaming Nazi, but didn't want to push my luck since the drinks were being bought for me, so I politely ordered wine instead. Not long after we downed our drinks, Father emerged humbly smirking at the cheering and cat calling that his entrance provoked. Since I had long been out of things for him to sign, I asked him to draw a sketch for me in my sketch book when I approached him. He began scrawling something on the paper and gave me some brief advice on the issue I confided to him in my previous letter. When he returned my sketch book, I broke out giggling. He had sketched my boobs within a smiley face! "I liked seeing your boobs on the rail last night." I smiled and laughed and thanked him. To which he responded, "No, really I do." I answered bashfully, "Glad you liked it" as I enjoyed the moment of his kind flattery. I'm sure Manson has seen so many tits during his shows in all these years that he's immune to it by now, so I was really touched by his compliment. He's got a way of making everyone feel special. I love that about him.




After some more drinking and a couple photos ensued, it was about time to head down to the venue. Spirits were running high for this performance and security was a bit disorganized with no one quite knowing which direction to go. The venue was already packed and there was a tiny little section at the front of the stage for VIP people, which was unusual. Still, I managed to get up front and prepare for my nightly rituals before the curtain dropped. Manson must've been in a good mood, as he was especially funny that night! One of the many lines used during the show was, "I hate bands named after cities, but I don't hate Boston." By the second song, "Disposable Teens," you could tell he was having a lot of fun prancing about the stage and rubbing his crotch against the microphone. At one point, he motioned to the stagehands for water, but they mistakingly kept giving him beer. He sang, "I won't take this beer" to the melody of the song. Quite a clever way to get what you need without interrupting the performance! As the song neared its end, he adds in "God Is Dead." He then disappears for a second, before bursting back onstage in his butchers uniform for "No Reflection," where he begins stabbing at random stage equipment with his knife microphone. As the fog swirls around the stage and he sips from his beer, he mock stabs himself and throws a few more crumpled newspapers our way. Before the song ends he says, "I realized a simple beautiful thing, all you need is a dick.."


(I wish I was there to reply, "That's what I'm talking about" in the tune of "Antichrist Superstar" ) - Lexa ;)


"The Dope Show" then begins and he does his Elvis impersonation and growls, "I need a fix because I am going down!" Half a birthday cake is thrown into the audience again and Manson then headed over towards Fred, pushes him, and exclaimed, "Are you sleeping, motherfucker?!" Fred doesn't react much to the taunting, but doesn't seem to miss a single bass note either. Manson then proceeds to sing about the discounts from the section of the newspaper he has just wiped his face with and playfully does a mock line of cocaine off of it. During "Slo-Mo-Tion," Manson toyed with a couple of bras that were thrown, slinging some of them from his laser guitar like trophies. One highly skilled girl managed to throw her bra directly onto the guitar to hang with the others, as if it were a carnival game. I had brought an extra bra with me that I was going to throw onstage, but it ended up getting forgotten in my suitcase due to the fact that my dressing room was a Dunkin Donuts bathroom.


(Note to girl with bra throwing skills: Next time you see Manson, demand a prize!) - Lexa


Cell phones were not borrowed from the crowd this time during "Personal Jesus." Instead, Manson prowled over to a nearby unsuspecting security guard, placed his hand on his shoulder and went into an Evangelical sermon. "Hallelujah! Let me put my hand onto your shoulder! Let me bless you, sir. You have been blessed by the healing power of our Lord and Savior… with the hand I masturbated with previously." When the snow that indicates the intro to "Coma White" began to fall, I felt my emotions welling up again. Manson is most definitely singing in my direction this time and makes an attempt to throw me his laser glove. Unfortunately, some assholes swoop in while it's still in the air, like some godforsaken birds of prey, swiping it right in front of my nose! I just about punch 'em to try and get it back with no luck.


(I remember getting thrown his wife beater tank top during "Tourniquet" on the Antichrist tour and the crowd ripping both me and the shirt to shreds. I still have a piece though, as the girl standing next to me was generous enough to split her half. We met 10 years later and she became one of the L.A. Plastics. RIP, Kristen M. :( We miss you. Okay, enough of this tearjerking… back to the review...) - Lexa





At last, we see the podium appear and it is clear that our Antichrist is almost here… and so is the end of the show, which is always a bittersweet moment cause you're so excited to hear the songs, but know it's ending soon. As "King Kill/Antichrist" begins, I resume my salute as Manson is screaming into his megaphone and climbing the podium. He's having a field day thrashing his multiple microphones about and begins planking the podium like some giant cat that is about to pounce. He even occasionally drapes himself across the top of the podium in yet more cat-like fashion. Mid-song he screams out, "Boston!" And as the song nears its end, he manically grins like the Cheshire Cat and blows kisses to the audience. There was no encore after the usual "Beautiful People" ending and from what we were told, he went straight back to the bus. HOB also turned into a night club almost directly after the show, so we were eager to bail. Lindsay and I quickly exited and discovered where the buses were, but didn't know which one was Manson's since he was using a different one this time.


After milling around a bit to see what the rest of our party was going to do and snapping a few group shots with Gina and Haz, we decided that it was time to head back. I was in dire need of sleep and too cold to be out in vinyl and a corset. It was a brisk walk back to her car where we finally warmed up before she dropped me off where all the taxis seemed to be lurking. I picked one at random that took me to my couch surfing location, which turned out to be a bit of a dump, but in a decent part of town. I forced myself to eat some trail mix and miso soup before getting a couple hours of sleep. In the morning, I awoke with quite a few dizzy spells. The next several hours were spent having hot and cold flashes on the back of a Greyhound bus. Turns out I got sick after all. I may have to upgrade my traveling style if I wanna live to make it to the next show.


-This message has been approved by Marilyn Manson

By Lillith Black (with Lexa Vonn)

Our bus out of Cleveland arrived late without any notifications and the vending machine stole the money I deposited for a bottle of water. The bottle just sat there in the machine, mocking me like a liquid filled middle finger. Gina changed buses in Buffalo, as her ticket was routed differently than mine. I'm pretty sure my bus hit just about every city and town in upstate NY. I suspect the blame may have been pinned on me on the last bus ride due to my fashion, since I seemed to be taking on the appearance of a Hell's Angel while I traveled. With my biker jacket, unkempt hair, skin tight pants and backpack, I guess I looked a bit threatening. On this ride, I was more likely taken for a homeless girl, as I had already been on the bus for a day and a half to two days, still in the same make-up. I at least had the good sense to change clothes before getting on the bus, which is more than I can say for most of the people on there.


The New Haven bus/train station had that certain old fashioned dirty charm. It was prettier than Port Authority but scarier, due to the fact that K-9 units were sniffing around outside and there were screaming crack addicts lingering everywhere. With the screaming crack addicts and all, I decided quickly that I didn't want to wait around and headed straight to the ATM to withdraw some cash for a cab. It cost a staggering $15.00 to go only 10-15 minutes away and the driver didn't quite know his way around. It turned out my AirBNB room was in the ghetto, or at least next door to it. I was feeling a bit apprehensive until I was greeted by my hosts, who were actually quite generous and personable. We stayed up a good part of the night talking. The housing situation ended up being surprisingly nice. I had an entire room to myself and it sure beat sleeping in bus stations like I did on the last Marilyn Manson tour. My hosts didn't even mind driving me the 20 minutes it took to get to the venue. I didn't quite arrive until 12:30/1:00pm, which freaked me out a little since most of the time I prefer to arrive at the venue 8am or sooner. I was already craving a drink, but opted to leave my flask of absinthe behind this time in case there were metal detectors. Luckily, I was greeted by a small crowd of acquaintances who cheered when I arrived and amply passed around Bourbon laced cupcakes, Jameson, and wine. The food and booze made the 20 degree weather a bit more tolerable and the wait was much more enjoyable amongst the small familiar crowd. I always feel like half of the fun is meeting up with and making new friends when I go to MM shows. It's like a second family.


When it was time for venue staff to let us in for the Meet & Greet, we were quickly ushered into a waiting area where I began to worry about Gina, who hadn't managed to get there yet. It turned out her bus was running behind schedule and she literally made it into the Meet & Greet only moments before Manson arrived. That, combined with my lack of sleep had me feeling less than myself, so I pretty much panicked and didn't say anything when I approached Manson this time. I just gave him another Bible page, along with a few other goodies as an offering, and got a photo that wasn't nearly as good as the one from the previous night. I'd later regret not having my head together in the moment, as I would've liked to talk to Manson more. I also wish I would've prepared myself for the photo this time. The photographers at these things are kinda quick, so make sure you are ready! Oh, well… there was always tomorrow! Besides, it's the show that really matters. As long as I could get my spot up front and be at one with the music, I'm a happy camper. Unfortunately, the setup at The Dome is not favorable in comparison to other venues I've been to. The barricade was farther from the stage than usual and the security was problematic with where we were allowed to put our bags and coats.




The locals in the crowd were a bit odd, as well. They were mostly really young and just didn't seem to grasp the concert experience. I'd guess many of them were seeing Manson for the first time, which is great in the way that his fan base is still growing, but awkward for those of us who understood the concept of audience participation and communion. They didn't understand that you are supposed to start cheering as soon as the lights go out so the band can feel the excitement of the crowd building before they actually hit the stage. After a few failed attempts by the veterans to get the crowd chanting, the curtain finally went down. I'm not positive, but I think Suspiria may have been played this time as well, along with the usual reciting of Macbeth. As soon as the curtain went down, I regretted wearing two lace shirts and a bra since I had to go through the complicated procedure of taking off all three in a rowdy pit before the curtain was completely out of sight. I made it to my usual spot against the barricade, but got stuck with two obnoxious teenage boys behind me. Apparently, their parents worked there as venue security. It was quite obvious that they had never been in a real pit before and were using it as an excuse to knock people around unnecessarily. During the show, they kept hitting and pushing me beyond what is standard for being in the front row. Usually, you get pushed and crushed from people trying to get closer to the stage, but the actual moshing happens more in the center of the pit. So eventually, I got fed up with it and gave the more obnoxious one a steel toe kick of the boot, to which he responded in typical teenage male fashion, "do that again and I'm gonna hit you in the head like a guy!" I responded back with my usual catchphrase reserved for concert assholes, "if you can't take the pit, get out!" In retaliation, he kept screeching into my eardrum for an encore halfway through the show. Does this idiot even know what the word "encore" means?


The set began with "Hey Cruel World/ Disposable Teens," and although the crowd didn't grasp the concept of screaming before they saw the band appear, they sure went crazy once they heard the music! I spent a good part of the show trying to keep from losing my spot against the barricade, while also attempting to signal Manson, who eventually rewarded me with another crumpled up newspaper to add to my ever expanding collection from previous tours. During "Love Song," the audience was assaulted with the fog gun. I was kinda off to the side, so it didn't hit me as much as I wished. There's nothing like receiving the cool ejaculation of mist in your face when you are sweating in a pit! The usual "teenage rape candidates" lyrics were directed our way during "Slo-mo-tion." Somewhere mid-sentence, Manson did a slight Elvis impersonation and asked the crowd to point out the whore in the room. The newbies were confused by Manson's sense of humor until he delivered the punchline, "you were supposed to point at me!" I guess people don't expect the Antichrist to be funny, but his in-between song banter is actually quite hilarious if you're paying attention. I also think it provides a nice contrast to some of the more emotional moments such as the performance of "Coma White," which hits me like a bullet through the heart every time. Manson has been using a glove that projects red lasers out of the fingers during "Coma White" on this tour. He sometimes uses the lasers to single people out, which he did to me that night, right as he sang the lyric, "to save her from herself." With Manson's hat cocked halfway over his face and snow falling, the scene just screams tragedy and never fails to make me teary eyed.





He spent a good part of the show kneeling at the front of the stage, reaching out to the fans that managed to get up front. I was met briefly by another asshole, who shoved my friend Tater's mom in an attempt to knock her out of the way and got my elbow in his face instead. I had to fish the poor woman back to the rail where she could hold on and steady herself. "Sweet Dreams" was also especially intense that night, as we were greeted with Manson wearing a veil and swinging a shop light, not dissimilar to the one in the "Sweet Dreams" video. Midway through the song, he starts to crawl around on the floor, wipes himself with a sweat rag, and throws it into the audience. Luckily, another friend of mine deservingly caught it. Then, Manson proceeds to start humping one of the front speakers as the song slows to a dramatic end. I started saluting again during "King Kill/Antichrist," just as Father (we always called him "Daddy" back in the day, now I call him "Boss" hehe- Lexa) reappeared with his megaphone and proceeded to climb the shock symbol podium. An American flag was tossed into the audience and caught by an extremely dedicated and well-deserving Bible throwing fan. It's always nice to see the fans you can tell are really emotional catch a gift, even if it's not always me. Manson and the crowd were feeding off each other's energy in a vicious cycle during this song. It's as if the mere site of that podium induces everyone into a trance. I wondered if it was the same podium he used on the actual Antichrist Superstar tour back in the day? If so, I bet that thing has absorbed many mystical energies!


After that, it was time for the usual finale, "Beautiful People." True to form, Manson stormed the stage again for the last song and gave it his all. The audience was frenzied and continued to push as hard as possible to reach out to him. After a dangerously good and somewhat violent show, Manson at long last, left the stage. But the crowd was far too riled up to let the band get away so easily. The screams from the audience grew to a deafening roar demanding an encore… ya know, the bonus song that sometimes comes AFTER the finale, NOT in the middle of the show! After much screaming and pounding of feet, Manson calmly returned to the stage. He jokingly called for everyone to shout out their name, promising that he would instantly remember them all. Almost as soon as they responded, he got down on his knees and proceeded to howl and scream as the band blasted into "Hate Anthem." This was a special treat because they don't always do an encore, so we were overflowing with exasperated excitement! From start to finish, Manson didn't hold back in his performance. In fact, the encore was my favorite part that night! At "rape the raper" he was pointing in our direction, but that could have been because Gina had it written across her chest this time.


As the band crashed through the song ending with a skidding halt, Manson takes his final bow and exits the stage, leaving the crowd a wanton sweaty mess. My intel is a bit limited on the details of the after-party, as the rest of my contacts and I both failed at really getting anywhere. It was simply way too cold that night to survive waiting outside by the buses in hopes of being invited on, which always may or may not happen. Instead, Gina dropped me back off in New Haven, only to find out that my hosts were in NYC for a bit and the deadbolt key sticks. So, I was stuck waiting on the porch freezing, which was time that could've been better spent waiting by the buses. Finally, the neighbor came down to let me in. I got a few hours of rest and then it was off to the Greyhound station to do it all again!


Stay tuned for Part III, coming to ya next week!


-This message has been approved by Marilyn Manson

Intro by Lexa Vonn:
Reading the pages of the journal Lillith Black kept as she traveled from show to show on the last leg of Marilyn Manson's 2013 North American Hey Cruel World Tour, brought back many memories for me. The first time I ever saw Marilyn Manson play was in 1995 at a small club in Boston. I was in high school at the time and the admission for the show was $8. The moment Manson took the stage, he seemed to fixate on me. Hypnotized by his ice blue contacts (he wore two at the time), I felt both frightened and aroused. My nightmares and fantasies became one as I was seduced by displays of sex, violence, and a certain innocence I can't really describe. There was something familiar about him, like we knew each other from a past life. Too intrigued to leave, I waited around the tour bus after the show that night in hopes of meeting him. When he exited the back of the club, he walked up to me and asked what my name was. After graduating high school, I took a Greyhound bus to L.A. where I lived on and off the streets for awhile. I met Manson again after a show in Hollywood during the Smells Like Children tour and asked if he remembered me. "Yes, you're from Boston," he replied. I was stunned that he remembered me at all, let alone where I was from. Not too soon after that, Antichrist Superstar was released and after breaking up with a lover who I'd been living with and being estranged from my family, I found myself with nowhere to go. It was then that I began to follow the band on tour.

Like Lillith, I had no car and limited cash. But seeing as how it was the mid-90's, I also had no cell phone or access to internet. There was no Facebook, Airbnb.com, or Couchsurfing.org to search for people to crash with, such as she had at her disposal. All I had to my name was a backpack with a few outfits, a sleeping bag, a deck of tarot cards, and a notebook to record my experiences. I got around by Greyhound bus, hitchhiking, and bumming rides off other fans. Many times, I just showed up at the venue and asked around until someone sold me a ticket cheap or gave me an extra one for free. Because I had nowhere to go, I was always at the venue early. It didn't take long for the roadies to notice me hanging around all the time. They began letting me inside the venue to help fetch drinks and tools and things while they set up the show. In return, they fed me, gave me tickets and backstage passes, and sometimes even snuck me on the crew bus for a ride to the next show. A few of them even let me stay in their hotel rooms, always in my own bed, of course! Being in the front row and backstage every night, I began to become friends with the band, as well. They too, would often put me on the guest list.


I remember a lot of things Lillith currently writes about- the Greyhound stations, the waking up at 6:00am to be first in line, running to public bathrooms to do my makeup, waiting for hours to get into venues or waiting for the band by the bus, bringing the band gifts, handing Manson crazy letters, and the meaningful interactions that Manson had with certain members of the crowd. I remember Gina, Haz, and Manzin and am still friends with them to this day. I also remember all those that came before them, the ones who are still with us, and the ones who have passed on or passed away. I remember "The Slashers", two girls who used to carve Marilyn Manson into their chests with razor blades, I remember Natalie and her nun costume, I remember Vlad, the kid who sat outside Manson's house for months until he was finally offered a job working as Manson's assistant, I remember Andrew and Kayla, who were always at the venue as early as me, decked out to the nines at 9am before they ended up having a baby together a few years ago.


I remember all the good ones and the bad ones and everyone in between. I remember Manson always singing certain lyrics to me every night, grabbing me, holding my hand, and looking at me with those eyes. I remember how much it meant to me and how addictive it was to feel that connection with someone through the music I related to the most. I believe to this day, if it hadn't been for that tour, where I finally found a place I fit in and the illusion of a rock star who loved me, I would have committed suicide. After the Antichrist days, I got my life together, got a car, and moved back to L.A. But I always took a few weeks off from whatever job I had at the time to follow Marilyn Manson around the country each time they toured. It was a lot easier from that point on, as I had a car, girlfriends to travel with, and connections who'd make sure I got into the concert no matter what city I showed up in.


Things got a little intense in 1999 on the Mechanical Animals tour when I was sexually harassed by a member of the road crew who didn't like that I was getting my passes without "servicing" anyone. He started a fight with the roadies who had treated me well and tried to pressure them into refusing me future guest list privileges unless I "put out." Coincidentally, Manson was especially excited to see me backstage that same night and invited me to the REAL after party back at the hotel where I informed him of the incident and named the offending roadie, who was later fired. It was then that he told me that I was no longer to talk to the road crew and that HE would be handling my passes from now on. "You get your passes from me or my assistant from now on, you understand?" Who could argue with that? I guess you could say that was the first moment I realized that Manson did really care about me beyond the theatrics that took place during the performances and in my mind. We did little more than drink wine and watch American History X on Pay-Per-view that night, but for me it was a dream come true just to spend time with him. And those eyes… even offstage he was able to look so deep inside my soul that we were able to know exactly what one another was thinking without saying a word.


That connection would continue for years, whether we were alone listening to music, or in a party full of people smirking at one another from across the room over a private joke that didn't need to be spoken for us both to get it. He even had an uncanny way of calling or emailing me every time I broke up with one of my boyfriends and was dangerously depressed. My friends often joked that he had a camera hidden in my house cause he always had this unexplained way of knowing things about me. I love Manson in a way I cannot ever love anyone else. And though we are still friends to this day, I don't get the luxury to take off on wild rides following the tours anymore. I have The Plastics to run, a lot of events to attend, and expenses that don't allow me to be away for too long.  So, when I heard that one of my Plastics was planning on following the current tour for a few shows, I propositioned her with a challenge and asked her to keep a journal to record all her experiences so that we could later publish them on our website as part of a series. These are her memoirs…


Part I: Cleveland Ohio House Of Blues 1-23-13





After an excruciating long bus ride with no heat, periodical harassment from a delusional driver who threatened to have me arrested for smoking in the bathroom (which I didn't do), and a perverted Indian man who insisted on sitting next to me and didn't understand the concept of personal space, I was more than thrilled to arrive in Cleveland and have my couch surfing host pick me up from the station at 4:00am. I promised myself that I would only sleep a couple of hours before heading out to try and find a camera shop that sold film for the "Impossible Project," and then proceed to wait all day outside of House of Blues. The plan was to get to as many Manson shows as I could with no car, no hotel reservations, and limited spending money. Oh, yeah and I also had to meet Manson by attending the pre-show meet & greets or getting backstage passes as many times as possible. And let's not forget, I had to make sure I was one of the first people in line to get into the venue for every show, as this is the only way to ensure that I'd be in the front row, since they are all general admission venues. Being from the South, I didn't quite realize how cold 10 degrees actually was till I got up. The couple hours of sleep that I promised myself turned into something more along the lines of 4-5 hours and by the time I was up and completely dressed for the show, my host was already offering to make me breakfast. After a chat about life in downtown Cleveland, I began to head out the door with the expectation that I'd be starting my mission solo. Just then, my friend Gina calls to tell me that she had a last minute financial influx and was at the Cleveland Greyhound station!


Gina is from Massachusetts and is a fellow follower of the Manson tours. She has been doing it for years and is known for writing lyrics across her bare breasts and standing in the front row topless like a billboard for some sort of Marilyn Manson themed strip club. And hey, it's rock n' roll… so, why not? I had already begun occasionally flashing during the tour's earlier dates back in May and realized it was easier just to stay topless the whole time, rather than attempt to put my bra back on it a pit. So, when I met Gina, it only seemed natural to join her topless routine. I, too am now one of the "topless front row girls." One thing you will find about the old school die-hard Manson fans, is that they all have their own "thing" that they do durning the shows and become known for. And the REAL show followers all know each other. There's Manzin, a model and Manson impersonator, who is known for re-creating some of Manson's most elaborate costumes. There's Haz, who is known for sporting a Cub Scouts uniform to the shows and tying his long hair into two pigtail braids, there's Gina of course, and there's Lexa Vonn, who I think has been around the longest. Long before she created The Plastics, she used to follow Manson around on tour just like I'm doing now. She became famous for it… like national TV famous, but I'm not quite sure what her "thing" was at the shows. I guess I will find out when I meet her in L.A. Being that my phone is an obsolete piece of shit that only works on speaker phone and I had no car, my hosts graciously volunteered to swing by the Greyhound station and pick Gina up. They even went as far as to let her stay with me and sleep in their great big old Victorian house.


We got to the venue a little later than I wanted to. I had purchased the VIP Meet & Greet pre-show package for Cleveland and I was anxious about getting there in time to check in for it. When I arrived, I discovered that this venue had metal detectors. Panicking, I hid my flask in the front lobby where I could retrieve it later and proceeded into the meet & greet area. Manson's father was there, along with an assortment of other people. Some I knew from fan forums, others from past shows, and quite a few that I had never met before. My anxiety increased quite a bit as we neared the top of the stairs where we had to line up to get our picture taken and our moment with Manson. I allowed Gina to be ahead of me while I busied myself with my bags, searching for a gift to give Manson. Last time I met him on the Twins of Evil Tour, I gave him a little stuffed toy from a collection of Beanie Baby type things that were supposed to be different viruses. I gave him the AIDS one. I'm not crazy about the way the meet & greets are run. They feel too much like some sort of surreal petting zoo with a bag of feed and a Polaroid. Normally, I am one of the first to arrive at the shows and one of the last to leave, as I typically wait till the tour buses have left or I am told to get off a bus. Hanging on the bus with the band is a way more intimate experience, but waiting for the buses was really impossible this time due to the severity of the cold. As much as I would have wanted to wait outside, I don't want to completely freeze either. While not to say the meet & greets are unauthentic, since a lot of what goes on seems to be genuine, they do sometimes feel rushed and there is no other entertainment to keep you occupied as you wait for your turn. When I finally approached Manson, I explained that I couldn't really top giving the gift of AIDS, but that I had a preserved scorpion for him. He loved it and called me an "evil woman."


(the first gift Manson ever gave me was a preserved scorpion inside a glass paperweight.- Lexa) Coincidence #1


Briefly, we shook hands and I asked him to sign my Astral Projection book by Ophiel. I also asked if he had a chance to read a letter I had given him on the previous leg of the tour.


(the first gift I ever gave Manson backstage circa 1997 was the book, "The Last Days of Christ the Vampire" with a personal letter tucked inside it.- Lexa) Coincidence #2


In response, he replied that he had, but not read all of it or at least not soberly? He said that he would go back and read the rest of it.


(I, too asked him a few days later if he had read the letter and he said it got lost and asked me to write it again for him. I showed up to his bus the next morning, new letter in hand and he took it from me and told me that he was going to read it right then.-Lexa) Coincidence #3






After a brief excursion, I knew things were going to be off to an interesting start. It was now time to get my picture taken, so I made a quick check in the mirror as we neared the top of the stairs to the posing area. Manson feigned being scared of me because I'm such an "evil devil woman." In return, I had him grab my breasts for the camera, to which he exclaimed, "Boobie Rape!" At this point, I believe my response was to smile and laugh and agree with him on that. The meet & greet ended shortly after and we proceeded to find our way to the main room of the venue. As we descended the stair case, I could feel the excitement for the oncoming show beginning to build up. After a quick dash to the stage in stilettos, Gina vanishes to get drinks as I chat up the others in the pit. She returns, hands me the drinks to hold, and runs back to the bar for two more. To my dismay, I end up drinking them in the time it takes her to get back and get drunk with the next round.


The opening act, Butcher Babies begin and I silently suffer through them. As much as I like woman in rock music, these ones remind me of Hooters Girls trying to be rocks stars. They sound ok, but they are trying too hard with too much emphasis on tits. I mean, I get the act of what they are trying to portray, but I have a hard time buying it. Especially, when there isn't a single female that actually plays an instrument in their band. It's just two porn star looking "singers" with a back-up band of guys. The chanting begins like some sort of bizarre mating call as soon as they leave the stage. It stops and starts every 10-15 minuets or so in succession, until Manson finally takes the stage. By this point, the curtain is already down and my boobs are out. All that is missing is for him to take the stage. Oddly though, I don't really remember the "Suspiria" theme being played as the usual intro, just the reciting of Macbeth. As soon as he hits the stage and sees me, he comes over and proceeds to make a square symbol in the air and point at me. Then, he points to the side of the stage and at me again. This is done twice. At this point, I was drunk and understood the first part, but didn't get the meaning of the second part until later. He was telling me that he read the letter I gave him, half telepathically and half with sign language. Later, I would conclude that he was motioning me to go to the side of the stage, but why I'll never know cause I didn't understand at the time.


This is typical Manson communication style during his performances. If he connects with you, a bond is formed with this type of cryptic communication that only you and him understand. (well, most of the time.) The audience is definitely feeling the vibes as the band launches into "Hey Cruel World." By the time "Disposable Teens" is over and "The Love Song" starts, he demands that Gina undo her top, so that the "Rape Me" she scrawled earlier is visible across her chest. I managed to get a couple of decent pictures by this point before my IPod started whining about its battery. About this time, Manson announces that his father is in the audience by way of shining the spotlight on him and proclaiming, "This is the man whose nut sack I came from!" With that, he takes us into "No Reflection." The crowd is feeling it and I'm feeling it in my legs from the heels and the push and throbbing of the audience. I have to duck to avoid being hit by crowd surfers several times.



Lillith and Gina


As "No Reflection" is wrapped up, the band transcends into "Mobscene." This is when the crowd starts getting really rowdy, while cheering and moshing as Manson leads the crowd in a sing a long. After that, Manson saunters off stage for a brief moment and returns in a reflective jacket, some sort of mink or fox stole, sunglasses, and a birthday cake in hand. The cake is promptly tossed into the center of the audience, which briefly reminds me of the devious antics of the old days. For once, I'm glad the cake went towards the center and not towards the side of the stage. Though, a small smattering managed to land on me anyway as pieces were tossed between the crowd and where Manson was strutting about the stage with his knife microphone sticking the blade through beer cans. One of which, he drank from before handing it to Gina and I to share. The shenanigans continued as Manson strapped on his laser guitar for "Slo-Mo-tion" and began sweeping the crowd with it. As we roared through the song, the "teenage rape candidates" lyrics came up and several people, myself included, were singled out with the laser.


Then came, "Rock Is Dead." As it started, Manson proceed to chant "Rock, Rock, Rock," then held the mike out for the audience to complete with, "Is Dead" back at him. At this point, my hand is getting a bit tired from the regular saluting that goes with this song, so I give myself a drunken break during "Personal Jesus." But more so during "Coma White," which has always been a bit of an emotional cluster fuck for me when preformed live. We know the end of the show is nearing when we see the Anti-Christ Superstar podium with the shock symbol on it roll out and "King Kill 33/Anti-Christ Superstar" begins. This whips the crowd, who are about foaming at the mouth like some sort of rabid animals, into even more of a frenzy. I start saluting again as Manson takes the podium to go into his signature act of ripping pages out of a bible and tossing them into the crowd, raining the words of God down upon us. Then came the explosion of confetti during the finale, "Beautiful People." Thankfully, they came back and encored with "Irresponsible Hate Anthem," which had Manson rolling about on the stage floor. You could really tell he was in a good mood for this show.


I'm not entirely sure that there was a VIP/after party, due to the fact that everyone I knew in VIP reported that nothing actually went on after the show. Manson was in the House of Blues Foundation Room for most of the night. I found this out because I had quite the ordeal trying to find Gina and witnessed Manson leaving from there. I was about to venture outside into to the great white frozen wasteland of Ohio, when a friend informed me that everyone was in the other room. Gina was extremely drunk, no one had a working phone, and our bus was going to leave in two hours. After having been locked in the venue for sometime, I finally found a Mexican kitchen staff worker who understood "phone," but not however, "taxi." He kept trying to hit on me until I threatened to hit on him with my fist. At that point, we found our way out of the venue but were locked in the bus loading area. So, I did the only sane thing I could think of and flagged down a snow plow who failed to summon a taxi for us. Instead, I was forced to lead Gina around downtown Cleveland stiletto and corset clad, until I eventually gave up and flagged down a cop who directed us to the nearest taxi station. I placed her in a city bus kiosk while I ran the rest of the way and hailed the next taxi back to where we were staying. Our kind couch surfing hosts were thoughtful enough to leave the door unlocked and we were off to the Greyhound station in no time.


- This message has been approved by Marilyn Manson 8)