tom delonge

summer of 1994, Poway CA

the summer of buzz cuts and tan lines. california sunsets with a stolen beer in hand.

tom tolled out of bed each morning sunburnt and groggy. he was still living in the garage of his moms place, which was now a very tom space except for the washer and dryer.

he tore himself out of bed and went into the kitchen and ate leftover del taco for breakfast.

he went back into the garage and threw a shirt and some jorts on.

he spent most of the morning messing with guitar and doing kickflips in his garage

the temperature was rising so he ditched the shirt and skated over to scott’s place, where you lived cuz you were scott’s sister.

the three of you went around passing out flyers, the dudes constantly making dick jokes. it was rare seeing your boyfriend in a serious mood, or showing any form of pda.

“…shut up scott you fuck dogs”

he laughed scaring away some lady and her son

after a bit you and him went to hang at your house together, where he made some calls and booked another last minute gig for the night

you helped the guys load all the shit into tom’s red chevy pickup and drove to The Soma in the city for a show in the stinky basement stage, since they weren’t big enough to play the main stage

they set up and immediately started playing for the 50 people who came

“hi fuck you im tom delonge that’s mark on bass he’s transgender, and the quiet dude on drums is scott. anyway this song is my favorite it’s called the family next door”

this was one of the many joke songs they played

after the show you crashed at tom’s place, eating shitty Chinese food on his bed