A letter from a Flower to a Garden, or perhaps the Other Way Around

So, after the Fall Out Boy show at the Expo Center a few months back, we found a sealed envelope lying on the floor. Upon opening, we found a letter to one Trace Dempsey Cyrus, son of Billy Ray and brother of Miley. He seems to be the front man for something called Metro Station, who had opened that evening.

The letter was from a fan, and again, hadn't been opened. The fan was either a twelve year old girl or some adult with a wicked sense of humor. Let's read:

Thank you. Thank you and the boys for putting your fans before your fame. For everything.

('Don't feel bad about not being famous', I believe is what she's saying here.)

Thank you for signing my Outsiders book in November, page 149 right on Stay Gold Ponyboy. Thank you for that hug, after I gave you that picture I drew of you. Thank you for signing my glass heart with your name and re-signing it later that night because it rubbed off.

(And thank you Fan, for giving me some images in that last sentence I could really do without.)

Thanks for grabbing my hand, and singing to me. And for saying, "I LOVE YOU TOO BABE." I'm sure you say it alot, but unlike many other celebs, you, Trace, you mean it when you say you love your fans. Thank You

(Thine is the Kingdom and the Glory, Forever and Ever, World Without End.)

Your fame, everything you've accomplished, it was all on your own babe (heart symbol) Millions of people everyday, see you as the talented, sweet, strong, independent, inked, pierced, drop dead sexy guy you are...all over the world! Look what you and the boys have come to!

(Yesss Trace...Loook at your life. You thought that when you got all those tatooes and piercings, your fans might not be pre-teen girls. But deals with Satan are like that: tricky.)

I was a winner for "Be Our Top Friend". I was very first actually. Im so blessed! You don't know how that made me feel! (Heart symbol)

(It has been pointed out by sharper cultural commentators than myself that any boy band you could conceive of will find at least some level of fame, for a while, anyway. It's like a license to print money. Briefly.)

Also, on Stickam you left me a :] in my comments, that was amazing! You took time to send me that, to recognize me. Metro Station, you truly love your fans (Heart symbol) And we love you! I LOVE YOU TO NO END!

(Here we have come to a place of pathos. [Also, the first sentence wouldn't have made any sense at all in English as of -say- fifteen years ago. Ever think about that?] Anyway, it's nice that shit like that can make her day, and it's also sooo sooo very sad that shit like that makes her day.)

When I hear your music, I wanna be home in Alhambra, LOS ANGELES county. Back in California! I probably saw you, Trace, at that Burbank Mall ShoeStore or Mason selling pretzells. :)

(For starters, I gotta give her credit that 'pretzells' is the first spelling error I've found in a relatively lengthy letter. Secondly, imagine if this letter was actually written by a spurned ex-girlfriend/ex-bandmember who wants to really, really get under Trace's skin. Hey pretzel boy! Whyncha go back to Burbank?)

Then it says that she's '17 forever (heart symbol)', and that Trace is her 'forever shining star'. Then her name, cell phone number, and "STAY GOLD PONYBOY, STAY GOLD" in huge letters.

She name-checks an uncle in Texas who is a 'kickass tattoo artist'. "And if you read this and you're still in Oregon, let me buy you dinner!" and then,

"LOL. Whatever you guys want!" Hm. "Whatever"? And, have you noticed how 'LOL' keeps on being used in sentences where people couldn't possibly be laughing out loud?

Again we get the cell number. Then her MySpace page, and her Stickam page. Her gmail account. Her identity at both metrostationunderground.com and metrostationmusic.com. Then there's this weird diamond-shaped design she drew, with the names of each of the band members represented in four facets.

Finally: "Trace, I'd be very grateful if you come with me to get inked for the first time (heart symbol) haha (heart symbol)"


Ladies: let's just go ahead and not put our personal information inside of letters that will almost certainly never find their way to your idols' hands, okay? I mean, this was found by a bunch of filthy, nasty stagehands with nothing but time in between gigs: you don't know us, girl.
And yeah, either you end up on that rented touring bus or you don't, you know?

But really this is mostly here as a historical document. There are many letters like this one, but this one is in my possession.