“I survived on the Subway $2.50 six inch sub of the day. I didn’t have a car, so laundry was always an issue. We were directly across the street from a huge porn shop, and I would fall asleep counting the flashes of the pink lights through the window.”
- Jordan Butcher

I am sitting in King’s Hardware, regarding Jordan Butcher from across the rough wooden expanse of our corner table where we are surrounded by taxidermy and vintage beer cans. It’s early, and what will become a deafening roar of conversation and music is still at a reasonable drone. So it’s not that hard to hear Butcher as he picks up his pint, leans in, and, with a twinkle in his eye, tells me a story. Despite being able to hear him fairly well, I ask him to repeat himself.

“Sorry, it sounds like you just said Katy Perry kissed you.”

“She did. On the cheek.”

When Jordan finishes telling his story, the one where Katy Perry kisses him on the cheek outside the bathroom at the afterparty for the Grammys, I find that I am not all that surprised. For one thing, he tells a lot of outrageous stories. For another, the guy is on a career-high tear, having just returned from Los Angeles where he’d been invited to the mother of all music awards shows after being nominated in the category of Best Special Packaging for his work on Underoath’s “Lost in the Sound of Separation.”

I am trying to picture Ms. Perry kissing Jordan’s whiskered cheek, when I realize I need to refocus. He’s already on to the next story. Something about Andy Summers greeting him as they waited in line to walk the red carpet.

“Andy Summers of The Police?”

“Yeah. He told me his kids were big Underoath fans.”

Sure they are, I thought to myself. Then again, it sounded about par for the course. Butcher’s date had showed me a picture from the afterparty on their return. She was hugging Leonard Cohen.