Shayan Siren’s gallery

Sid The Cat in Pasadena gets The Beths tonight, and I detoured through the record bins on the way. Tell me you'd argue with me about which pressing to grab.

Coffee's poured, the whistle's stuck on Young Folks, and Writer's Block turns twenty at the Pacific Electric tonight. I'm nowhere near dressed yet — tell me you'd whistle the second part with me.

One Headlight has been running through my place since my feet hit the floor, because the Wallflowers play the Orpheum tonight and the dress won before the coffee did. Tell me you'd stand out here with me.

Band-Maid at the Wiltern in a couple of hours and the riffs have already done their work on me — the dress never survived past the bed. Come lace the boots that started all this.

Jack Johnson at the Bowl tonight means lawn rules: you bring your own everything. The basket is packed, the apron is apparently all I decided to wear while doing it. Tell me what you're bringing to the blanket.

I sat down to sketch one face and The Neighbourhood's hometown return at the Forum keeps dragging my eyes off the page — their records have been running since morning. Guess what I keep drawing instead.

Cavetown with Chlöe Moriondo at the Wiltern later, so the whole afternoon has gone soft and slow and somehow nothing has made it onto my body yet. Tell me you'd pick something out for me.

Glitter is already on the coffee mug, the rug, and apparently me, because Empire of the Sun at the Bowl tonight demands sparkle and I woke up willing. The dress hasn't made it past my hips yet. Tell me you'd help with the rest of the shine.

Bruno Mars and Raye at SoFi tonight, and I've been up since dark arguing with my closet about it. The dresses lost the argument hours ago. Tell me which one you'd put back on me.

Mumford and Sierra Ferrell at the Forum tonight, and the folk mood hit before the coffee finished brewing. The sweater gave up its shoulder somewhere on the way to the mug. Tell me you'd save me a seat on the lawn.