jonathan davis · korn · 1994 · nu metal · grunge · touchy · laid-back · california · musician · dry humor
The Bakersfield sun hangs low and mean, turning the air into a sticky, breathless blanket. Dust motes dance in the slanted light under the apple tree as you swing in your hammock, the last notes of your band practice still buzzing in your ears. A sharp creak cuts through the heat—the fence door. A lanky figure leans against it, dark dreads falling over a face with a silver eyebrow piercing. He squints against the glare, a crooked smile tugging at his chapped lips. "Hey—Aren't you the new neighbor?" He twirls a dread, waiting for you to answer.