Garfield, NJ
I am drunk, I'll be honest. But this is all true:
I LOVE EVERYONE WHO CAME TO THE SHOWS THIS WEEKEND THEY WERE FUCKING INCREDIBLE I WAS KINDA BUMMED OUT ABOUT SHITTY SHOWS FOR A WHILE BUT ALL THE PROMOTERS THAT WE'VE DEALT WITH THIS PAST WEEK WERE FUCKING AWESOME AND I LOVE YOU LOVE YOU LOVE YOU THANK YOU FOR COMING TO THE SHOWS AND SUPPORTING US.
Today was our first headlining gig in Jersey. And kids stuck around. And some knew the words. I could cry if the water in my body wasn't a huge part alcohol right now.
fuck a duck.
11.23.2003
11.22.2003
Mohegan Lake, NY
Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored. Got home from the show a while ago, and it was nice to watch that episode of 24 that Julee had taped for me on Tuesday. Alright, so once again there's not much to say about this show. I got home, almost an hour later we left, we played and it was just a fucking great great time. Then we got to see Big D again and they're still fucking amazing live. Nothing funny here, but the shitty shitty tour diary must LIVE.
Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored. Got home from the show a while ago, and it was nice to watch that episode of 24 that Julee had taped for me on Tuesday. Alright, so once again there's not much to say about this show. I got home, almost an hour later we left, we played and it was just a fucking great great time. Then we got to see Big D again and they're still fucking amazing live. Nothing funny here, but the shitty shitty tour diary must LIVE.
11.19.2003
West Hartford, CT
Everything for this show ran pretty smoothly, which means there's not a whole lot of interesting stories to tell. Here's a few uninteresting ones:
- I walked into the room with Christine, a friend of mine from Oneonta and somehow every cool kid I know from shows was there and I was immediately greeted by like 20 people with giant hugs. Right after that, I was handed a wad of cash by someone else. I totally got laid (by myself) after looking so cool.
- JT drank way too much. He shouted "I'm a rich jew" about a thousand times from the stage. There really is no description of how drunk JT was, you would have to be there to visualize it. It was bad enough that we had to put him on alcohol probation for a month.
- A bunch of our friends from Oneonta came up and John (our old old guitar player) was one of them. He stole a lot of cheeseburgers from the dining hall and then found out that Julee was cool enough to give us this food for free, so he ate more cheeseburgers. John is on a diet. Lame.
- Julee Motte officially wins as best promoter ever, despite the fact that she ripped up the Rebels' contract accidentally. She not only fed and paid all of us, but she also videotaped 24 for me so I didn't have to miss it (unfortunately it's in the van which is on long island so i have to wait til fucking friday to watch it). Have one of your shows run by this chick and you'll never feel quite right about playing anywhere else. Congrats Julee as one of very few promoters who does not fuck over bands.
- The River City Rebels have been getting better and better since two days ago, and they show no signs of slowing down. As is like the Rebels, they started making fun of us, but after what will remain unspoken for reasons undefined, the best they could come up with was that JT had a beard. I couldn't tell whether I should be relieved or disappointed. I chose hungry.
- Our friend John walked on his knees. It was pretty crazy. Oh yeah, we found out that Blind Luck Music is finally fucking back on tour. Go see them if they're in your area, bunch of swell guys. That's really all the stuff I feel like talking about.
Everything for this show ran pretty smoothly, which means there's not a whole lot of interesting stories to tell. Here's a few uninteresting ones:
- I walked into the room with Christine, a friend of mine from Oneonta and somehow every cool kid I know from shows was there and I was immediately greeted by like 20 people with giant hugs. Right after that, I was handed a wad of cash by someone else. I totally got laid (by myself) after looking so cool.
- JT drank way too much. He shouted "I'm a rich jew" about a thousand times from the stage. There really is no description of how drunk JT was, you would have to be there to visualize it. It was bad enough that we had to put him on alcohol probation for a month.
- A bunch of our friends from Oneonta came up and John (our old old guitar player) was one of them. He stole a lot of cheeseburgers from the dining hall and then found out that Julee was cool enough to give us this food for free, so he ate more cheeseburgers. John is on a diet. Lame.
- Julee Motte officially wins as best promoter ever, despite the fact that she ripped up the Rebels' contract accidentally. She not only fed and paid all of us, but she also videotaped 24 for me so I didn't have to miss it (unfortunately it's in the van which is on long island so i have to wait til fucking friday to watch it). Have one of your shows run by this chick and you'll never feel quite right about playing anywhere else. Congrats Julee as one of very few promoters who does not fuck over bands.
- The River City Rebels have been getting better and better since two days ago, and they show no signs of slowing down. As is like the Rebels, they started making fun of us, but after what will remain unspoken for reasons undefined, the best they could come up with was that JT had a beard. I couldn't tell whether I should be relieved or disappointed. I chose hungry.
- Our friend John walked on his knees. It was pretty crazy. Oh yeah, we found out that Blind Luck Music is finally fucking back on tour. Go see them if they're in your area, bunch of swell guys. That's really all the stuff I feel like talking about.
11.17.2003
Philadelphia... no... Upper Darby, PA
Fuck. Early call today. I was supposed to wake up and buy a coat. I really wish I had bought a coat instead. I also almost typed "bought a goat". I really wish I typed "bought a goat" instead. fuckin' fuckin', uh, uh, uh, fuckin'...
Practiced til 1 last night playing 1990's alternarock for about 3 hours at the end... it was big fun.
1:00 - Practice Studio
2:00 - Burger King
2:10 - Belt Parkway
3:40 - Belt Parkway
3:10 - Belt Parkway
3:40 - Belt Parkway
4:30 - Belt Parkway
We watched it turn from daylight to nighttime in... the... same... fucking... spot. For hours. After having another unsuccessful drive through my dreaded bastard neighbor, New Jersey, with an iPod full of 1400 songs on random, I developed the Jeff Rosenstock drinking game.
Every time I miss an exit - drink a shot
Every time Dillinger Four comes on - drink two shots
Every time Jeff panics about getting lost - drink a shot
Every time Jeff says "dude, check out this part!" - drink three shots
Every time "Jack the Lion" by Harvey Danger comes on - finish the bottle
This is all the bullshit unimportant introduction to make this look more like a tour journal entry than a fucking diatribe about the show tonight. This show was kind of the reason why I don't know how we can do shows without a booking agent and not get fucked over. The Repercussions got fucked. River City Rebels got fucked. We got fucked.
Picture this: There is a kid who booked the show. River City Rebels were guaranteed X amount of dollars. ASOB were guaranteed 200 dollars. Other bands were promised the gas money they spent to get out. "I'll take it out of my own pocket" was claimed by the promoter. When we showed up about three hours late we found out that our six band show turned into a FIFTEEN band show. No big deal. We'll go on later. We were kind of bummed... but, y'know... we would deal with it.
Note: the other bands were METAL bands. Metalheads and punks apparently don't go together. And this wasn't a show filled with punk rock kids, there were like PUNX! I was sitting at a makeshift merch table when all of a sudden Sean said "Hey, that was awesome. Someone just tore the confederate flag off that bass player's amplifier." I thought "Good for the fucking punk rock kids."
THEN... HUGE FIGHT BREAKS OUT. All the punks and metalheads rush towards each other and start punching punching punching punching... everyone there seems like a fucking idiot and tries to break up the fight by yelling. All the PUNX! were thrown out including the promoter. Or who we thought the promoter was... I don't even fucking know. Rylan from the Rebels looks over at me, after waiting about 8 hours and waking up at 5:00 AM and says "fuck. looks like we're not playing."
Rylan and I start talking to the people who were booking the metal show.
IDIOT: They started a fight
RYLAN: Well, they hung the confederate flag. That offends some people.
IDIOT: There's only ONE black guy here.
JEFF: He paid to get in like anyone else.
RYLAN: I mean, look at the results. Who won the war? The north.
IDIOT: Yeah, but it's not about the Civil War. It's about abolishing slavery. My friend hangs the rebel flag on his lawn.
RYLAN: That doesn't have anything to do with how we get paid, but he's no friend of mine.
We go around for literally hours. Apparently the promoter NEVER said he was having all the nationals. Our crayoned contract with him didn't mean shit because all contracts were null and void. The new people in charge of the show said that they would have never suggested that our bands come play and expect this money. Fucking lot of good that does us now. The Rebels play and say "don't support this place." While I'm in the bathroom with the promoter I say "that's their shtick. Don't take it out on them." The amount of fucking fights that people were trying tonight made me sick to my fucking stomach. It made me so mad that I wanted to shove everyone in a small room together and let them argue and punch each other until they were all fucking dead. The fighting would not solve any fucking problems, it would just let idiots get out their aggression on each other. Y'know, fuck somebody up. Fuck that. Seriously, fuck that. I hate it when people fight to pretend to solve their fucking problems, based on STRENGTH MUSCLE YEAH YEAH YEAH fuck that shit, blow me, go join a boxing league or something.
Regardless, RCR had to get home because they had 6 hours to drive and we watching fucking metal all day, but we agreed to handle their money situation which ended up being SEVENTY DOLLARS to split between the fucking two of us. We were GRACIOUS and blah blah blah blah but fucking, come on. 70 FUCKING DOLLARS? Our guarantee was 200. That's how much we needed. RCR asked for X (which is obviously more because they have more expenses to pay for (the trailer. the nationally released albums)), and what they offered us didn't even cover HALF of us. Money money money money? Yeah, well, think of how much we all fucking spent to get to this show. This show where no one cared to pay the bands, and the locals were not looking out for the nationals so much it was ridiculous.
And I wish I could remember name of this band because they were such goddamn assholes. We were using RCR's equipment. I have their fucking guitar amp in my van right now. But no, this band The Sleepover or whatever the fuck their lame ass metal name was... they were almost in tears over when they would play. "NO!!! I, I, I, I HAVE TO GO ON NOW." When thirty year olds are complaining about their time slots, you know something's wrong. They threatened to not play. Well, if they didn't play their 45 minute set where they played like 5 ten minute songs with our microphones, well, fucking awesome.
ANYBLAHBLAH, outside, this punk rock girl was getting into a fist fight with the promoter. SCREEEEAMING. SO LOUD. The cops were called because they must have thought that there was a real fight, and there was. Every so often, someoone would say to me "let's fucking bash his fucking face in! yeah!" I had an argument with a screaming PUNX girl who is actually pretty cool and saw us last time. I told her how punk rock is bullshit. That we all need money to get where we need to go, and that time slots shouldn't matter if all you want to do is fucking play. We were gonna play regardless, which is probably dumb, but I think it was the right thing to do and it was fucking fun.
So fuck these metal bands that act like assholes and say they refuse to play. When we hit we were all in love with rock and roll for a half an hour. It ended. The Repercussions didn't play. We loaded up and I realized I had blood on my shirt. Some girl came up to me and asked if I called her a "whore' and said "I don't think so" she said "when you were staring at me" i said "i don't know but thank you for letting me stare at you" then her BOYFRIEND came up and gave me a little shove and said "maybe when you start respecting women, men will start to respect you."
FUCK THAT GUY. I am so sick of everyone at these fucking shows. I was so thankful for the solace that our fans provided at this show because it prevented me from fucking killing myself and saying "fuck this band. let's all go have real jobs instead." But our fans and freinds were extremely nice and made us feel at home even though we were far away in racist land when confederate flags are ok because they're just arguing the issue of abolishing slavery.
We heard about 4 dillinger four songs on the way home. I didn't get lost.
I am drunk.
Fuck. Early call today. I was supposed to wake up and buy a coat. I really wish I had bought a coat instead. I also almost typed "bought a goat". I really wish I typed "bought a goat" instead. fuckin' fuckin', uh, uh, uh, fuckin'...
Practiced til 1 last night playing 1990's alternarock for about 3 hours at the end... it was big fun.
1:00 - Practice Studio
2:00 - Burger King
2:10 - Belt Parkway
3:40 - Belt Parkway
3:10 - Belt Parkway
3:40 - Belt Parkway
4:30 - Belt Parkway
We watched it turn from daylight to nighttime in... the... same... fucking... spot. For hours. After having another unsuccessful drive through my dreaded bastard neighbor, New Jersey, with an iPod full of 1400 songs on random, I developed the Jeff Rosenstock drinking game.
Every time I miss an exit - drink a shot
Every time Dillinger Four comes on - drink two shots
Every time Jeff panics about getting lost - drink a shot
Every time Jeff says "dude, check out this part!" - drink three shots
Every time "Jack the Lion" by Harvey Danger comes on - finish the bottle
This is all the bullshit unimportant introduction to make this look more like a tour journal entry than a fucking diatribe about the show tonight. This show was kind of the reason why I don't know how we can do shows without a booking agent and not get fucked over. The Repercussions got fucked. River City Rebels got fucked. We got fucked.
Picture this: There is a kid who booked the show. River City Rebels were guaranteed X amount of dollars. ASOB were guaranteed 200 dollars. Other bands were promised the gas money they spent to get out. "I'll take it out of my own pocket" was claimed by the promoter. When we showed up about three hours late we found out that our six band show turned into a FIFTEEN band show. No big deal. We'll go on later. We were kind of bummed... but, y'know... we would deal with it.
Note: the other bands were METAL bands. Metalheads and punks apparently don't go together. And this wasn't a show filled with punk rock kids, there were like PUNX! I was sitting at a makeshift merch table when all of a sudden Sean said "Hey, that was awesome. Someone just tore the confederate flag off that bass player's amplifier." I thought "Good for the fucking punk rock kids."
THEN... HUGE FIGHT BREAKS OUT. All the punks and metalheads rush towards each other and start punching punching punching punching... everyone there seems like a fucking idiot and tries to break up the fight by yelling. All the PUNX! were thrown out including the promoter. Or who we thought the promoter was... I don't even fucking know. Rylan from the Rebels looks over at me, after waiting about 8 hours and waking up at 5:00 AM and says "fuck. looks like we're not playing."
Rylan and I start talking to the people who were booking the metal show.
IDIOT: They started a fight
RYLAN: Well, they hung the confederate flag. That offends some people.
IDIOT: There's only ONE black guy here.
JEFF: He paid to get in like anyone else.
RYLAN: I mean, look at the results. Who won the war? The north.
IDIOT: Yeah, but it's not about the Civil War. It's about abolishing slavery. My friend hangs the rebel flag on his lawn.
RYLAN: That doesn't have anything to do with how we get paid, but he's no friend of mine.
We go around for literally hours. Apparently the promoter NEVER said he was having all the nationals. Our crayoned contract with him didn't mean shit because all contracts were null and void. The new people in charge of the show said that they would have never suggested that our bands come play and expect this money. Fucking lot of good that does us now. The Rebels play and say "don't support this place." While I'm in the bathroom with the promoter I say "that's their shtick. Don't take it out on them." The amount of fucking fights that people were trying tonight made me sick to my fucking stomach. It made me so mad that I wanted to shove everyone in a small room together and let them argue and punch each other until they were all fucking dead. The fighting would not solve any fucking problems, it would just let idiots get out their aggression on each other. Y'know, fuck somebody up. Fuck that. Seriously, fuck that. I hate it when people fight to pretend to solve their fucking problems, based on STRENGTH MUSCLE YEAH YEAH YEAH fuck that shit, blow me, go join a boxing league or something.
Regardless, RCR had to get home because they had 6 hours to drive and we watching fucking metal all day, but we agreed to handle their money situation which ended up being SEVENTY DOLLARS to split between the fucking two of us. We were GRACIOUS and blah blah blah blah but fucking, come on. 70 FUCKING DOLLARS? Our guarantee was 200. That's how much we needed. RCR asked for X (which is obviously more because they have more expenses to pay for (the trailer. the nationally released albums)), and what they offered us didn't even cover HALF of us. Money money money money? Yeah, well, think of how much we all fucking spent to get to this show. This show where no one cared to pay the bands, and the locals were not looking out for the nationals so much it was ridiculous.
And I wish I could remember name of this band because they were such goddamn assholes. We were using RCR's equipment. I have their fucking guitar amp in my van right now. But no, this band The Sleepover or whatever the fuck their lame ass metal name was... they were almost in tears over when they would play. "NO!!! I, I, I, I HAVE TO GO ON NOW." When thirty year olds are complaining about their time slots, you know something's wrong. They threatened to not play. Well, if they didn't play their 45 minute set where they played like 5 ten minute songs with our microphones, well, fucking awesome.
ANYBLAHBLAH, outside, this punk rock girl was getting into a fist fight with the promoter. SCREEEEAMING. SO LOUD. The cops were called because they must have thought that there was a real fight, and there was. Every so often, someoone would say to me "let's fucking bash his fucking face in! yeah!" I had an argument with a screaming PUNX girl who is actually pretty cool and saw us last time. I told her how punk rock is bullshit. That we all need money to get where we need to go, and that time slots shouldn't matter if all you want to do is fucking play. We were gonna play regardless, which is probably dumb, but I think it was the right thing to do and it was fucking fun.
So fuck these metal bands that act like assholes and say they refuse to play. When we hit we were all in love with rock and roll for a half an hour. It ended. The Repercussions didn't play. We loaded up and I realized I had blood on my shirt. Some girl came up to me and asked if I called her a "whore' and said "I don't think so" she said "when you were staring at me" i said "i don't know but thank you for letting me stare at you" then her BOYFRIEND came up and gave me a little shove and said "maybe when you start respecting women, men will start to respect you."
FUCK THAT GUY. I am so sick of everyone at these fucking shows. I was so thankful for the solace that our fans provided at this show because it prevented me from fucking killing myself and saying "fuck this band. let's all go have real jobs instead." But our fans and freinds were extremely nice and made us feel at home even though we were far away in racist land when confederate flags are ok because they're just arguing the issue of abolishing slavery.
We heard about 4 dillinger four songs on the way home. I didn't get lost.
I am drunk.
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