Lillith Black's blog: "Monsters Down Below"

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)