New Orleans
BOVE! BOVE BOVE BOVE BOVE BOVE! We got to the van and after tons of phone calls back and forth we saw Bove in our van cramming his luggage in. We were finally whole as a band again. Bove made lots of fun jokes and we were hella glad he was back. I was also hella tired. We found a Motel 6 in New Orleans and Bove, Sheldon and I crashed IMMEDIATELY on the wonderful beds.
..................................
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz................
.............................................................
When I woke up, Dave let me know that he got the oil changed and we finally got a trailer. I walked outside to help make the transfer from the cargo space in the van to the trailer and it was FUCKING COLD OUTSIDE. Goddammit! We were trying to escape winter and from this day forward we were told by most people "yeah! there are only two weeks of winter in this town, and you're in them! It's never this cold here!" Thanks a lot, heliocentricity. I realized at some point that I had left my mouthpiece in Ft. Myers and we called up a bunch of music stores to try and find a replacement. I was thinking, FUCK THIS IS AWESOME I'M IN NEW ORLEANS JAZZ CAPITAL OF THE WORLD AND I'M GETTING A SAX MOUTHPIECE IT'S GOING TO BE SO MUCH GREATER THAN ANYTHING ANYWHERE ELSE FUCK NEW YORK THEY WILL HAVE SOME RARE VINTAGE CHARLIE PARKER AGED TO PERFECTION SHIT.
no.
student model.
student model.
student model.
student model.
p.s. for those of you who don't know... student model saxophone mouthpieces SUCK DICK.
We all showered and went to the show. It wasn't that big of a crowd, but it was the first night of school and we never played there before so why should there be a big crowd, right? We hung out with our boys in Odd Arnie from Lafayette, LA again and it was nice to see them. There was also something really creepy going on. I don't know if anyone reading this has even been to New Orleans but if you haven't, THE PARTY STOPS EVERYWHERE BUT BOURBON STREET. It looked like New York if all the streets were abandoned and five people felt like driving their cars around. There was a Walgreens somewhere. No pizzerias. Oddly enough, we played above the only pizzeria in a five block radius and they were f'ing closed.
We asked someone "where can we get food?" and they said "um..." and we said "is there anywhere on bourbon st." and they said "nah, dudes (condescendingly), we don't go around there." I muttered under my breath to Sheldon "yeah... we don't like to go where there are THINGS TO DO." And what incredible things. Bourbon Street is exactly like everyone says. It is the beginning of January, school isn't in, and the streets were FILLED with CONSTANT LOUD MUSIC AND TONS OF FUN PEOPLE. The bums were nice. The drinks were cheap. The pizza... well... that was 3 bucks per slice and a pie for 24 dollars. Fuck that shit. We decided on peanut butter, jelly and grapefruit in the van, left and tried to get in as much as possible. There was a drink called the hand grenade which is the strongest drink in the world apparently and in way BUILT INTO THE GUNS THEY HAD AT THE BAR. Some of us had this drink, Bove had one combined with his new medication which made an awesome awesome power... and then we got a phone call from Sheldon's mom.
THE WORST DAY OF MRS. QUALLS'S LIFE: Sheldon's mom was conveniently supposed to be in New Orleans the same night we were going to be there so she helped to arrange for Bove to come in on the same flight as her. Even though Bove said he was able to switch seats plenty of times during the flight, Mrs. Qualls was told that she was too late, that they sold her ticket to someone else. She was put on a transfer flight to Chicago and then to New Orleans. Then like a scene from Home Alone, the snow started to come down preventing her flight from leaving. All she wanted to do was buy us a nice cajun meal since it was our first time in that area, and SNOW prevented her from doing that. We called and texted her many times throughout the day and she just kept getting delayed and d e l a y e d a n d d e l a y e d. We finally met up with her at her hotel (which was two blocks away from our van) and combed the ghost town in search of some cajun food. Unfortunately, non-Bourbon St. New Orleans closes after midnight. We walked in a five block radius (the other direction this time) and managed to find a 24-hour diner... not the cajun feast Mrs. Qualls had intended. She kindly treated us to a wonderful meal at the diner which consisted of gumbo for some and breakfast for others. Among this crew was not JT... he had vanished at some point between when we went up to Mrs. Qualls's hotel room for our care packages from our friends at home and when we came down. Somewhere between Rampart and Bourbon... two streets that are NEXT TO EACH OTHER. When we finally met up with him later, he was shitfaced and claimed "Well... I did one of everything"
EVERYTHING =
drinking at karaoke bar
large hand grenade liquor bevarage
drinking at blues/zydeco bar
drinking at college night dance bar
drinking at topless/bottomless strip club
He had missed the cajun food, but that could wait until tomorrow. Mrs. Qualls offered to take us out for lunch the next day because we had a lot of free time and she felt bad that we didn't have cajun food at that diner (we were very happy to eat, and now we were eating twice. and we were in new orleans. wow. we are lucky.) We met up with her around 2:00 in the afternoon when an incredible plan got devised by Sheldon, in front of his mom who at one point the night before said "he knows his place in the band".
THE STRIPPER MERCH GIRL IDEA. There it is, right there. Not an idea so much as a movement. We go into a strip club, ask a stripper "Hey. How would you like to see the world. You wouldn't have to do much except wear very little clothing, maybe strip a little but mostly sell t-shirts. We would pay for your meals and drop you off in new york." Go ahead. Try and think of a problem there. Find one thing wrong with this plan. Would we sell more merch? Yes. Would we be able to bring this stripped to New York where she can get a better job? Yes. Would she get to see the country? Yes. Would she have harsh living conditions? Yes. Would it be better than the one she is in now? Possibly. Would it be worth it to get to New York and work at SCORES? Yes. We let this plan settle in as we went to a cajun restaurant.
And it was there that I broke my vegetarianism for a few quick seconds. There was alligator on the menu. I was first trying to find the loopholes. Is it a fish? Is an alligator okay to eat because it doesn't fit into the phylum of most other animals? Fuck it. I thought of two things:
1) JT mentioned that alligators eat people. He said it sarcastically and I took it seriously.
2) I can't imagine alligators dying in a way that isn't funny and enjoyable. They must be like clubbed or something, by a giant man in a funny hat. Question marks and amphersands would appear above their heads along with giant spirals. It's fun for the whole family.
So I ate a fucking piece of alligator. A tiny tiny piece, and I didn't really like it because I don't like meat but now I can't say that I've never eaten an alligator. Check it out. Here's me not saying it
THE STRIPPED MERCH GIRL IDEA PT. 2, THE REVENGE. Once we parted ways with Mrs. Qualls I would not let go of the stripped merch girl idea. Sheldon wouldn't be able to get into any of the clubs, but the rest of us were of age and besides, other than JT we didn't go into strip clubs the night before. It was settled. Dave would come in with me, i would do the talking and a stripper would come do merch with us. JT came into the Topless Bottomless because, well, it's a strip club. We sat there and stared. JT tried a trick tipping technique which is to bite the dollar in between your teeth after which the stripper will come up and grab the dollar with her breasts, thus, putting her breasts in your face. Unfortunately, stripper number one cheated this rule and grabbed the dollar with her mouth. We all nodded at each other and said "no. not the one." Then Paris came onto the stage. Paris, a sweet nice blonde stripper who seemed around our age and very kind. I gave her the test by biting the dollar between my teeth and when she grabbed it with her breasts I knew she was the one. But I had frozen. How the hell do you talk to a stripper without getting punched in the face? Where do you look when she's naked? How do you invite her to join your fucking travelling fucking cirucs? Wouldn't she think this was a proposition for a gang band? Who wouldn't think that? We're just nice guys trying to make everyone win. As I was going through all this stuff in my head, JT manned up and called "Paris!" as she walked off stage. She came up to us, naked. naked. naked. naked. naked. naked.nadkjed.nadnkednakednakendaked (weird odd awesome) and JT told her the deal, who we were, where she was going, what we wanted and what we had to offer. She couldn't reach for mace because she had no pockets. Instead she responded "My mother lives in New York." Thinking this was just something nice to stay so she could walk away, we said "thanks anyway", turned around and looked at the next stripper. She looked like one of our very good friend's girlfriend. VERY MUCH SO. We decided to leave because we all felt weird/bad for looking at the stripper. On our way out, Paris asked JT for his number so she could call us tomorrow if she wants to go.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
?????????????????????????????????????????????????
We bullshitted with Paris, Paris the stripper, Paris the incredibly sweet and very friendly stripper about the rest of the world. I told her about the Oregon vortex, she said "vortex?" We exchanged numbers and then we were off, with a stripper in New Orleans who either was or wasn't planning on coming with us for the rest of the tour. WOW. Thank you New Orleans.
1.12.2004
here comes the marathon session... we're staying at this kid ian's house and i am somewhere in friggin' missouri. let's say kansas city. anyway, here we go. in REVERSE CHRONOLOGY!!!
To Louis Armstrong Airport Pt. 2, The Revenge
We had a long drive ahead of us. Spanning four to five states. The mapquest directions said it would take 11 hours, that's without stopping to get gas, to get coffee, to take a shit. Without stopping to do anything. Sheldon manned up the shotgun position with me and we were off. Wait. Fuck. I left my sweatshirt at the house.
Ten minutes later, Sheldon manned up the shotgun position with me and we were off. Wait. Fuck. Traffic lights? It turns out we were going for about 150 miles on a road that had traffic lights everywhere. This was worse because I was not permitted to drive fast and make abrupt stops because JT was sleeping above all the tuggage in a little alcove he had made for himself. This alcove was not very sturdy and every traffic light was another opportunity for JT to tumble onto the Costa who was sleeping in the bench underneath him. We had left around 11 and pulled off for gas somewhere in Florida at around 5:00. We figured that we might make it to the airport on time to pick up Bove if we rushed... his plane was coming in at 9:30something AM and there was bound to be a time zone change somewhere.
The woman at the bargain basement only 24 hour gas station in the area was extremely kind when she informed me that the time zone shift had already occurred. She was also nice enough to tell me that we were TWO HOURS AWAY FROM NEW ORLEANS. The police officers told me that there was a bit of fog which would make the drive long. Fuck fog. We had been driving through it all night and we were about to finish a 11 hour drive in SEVEN hours. Knowing that I wouldn't have anything to do at the airport and that I wanted to be awake when Bove came in, I invited Sean to sit down at a booth with me and take in a cup of coffee. We stared at the confederate flags memorabilia and still thought it was pretty strange. We took a half an hour and then started driving again which is when my eyeball exploded. We pulled off again for another half an hour for shits, giggles and more shits. We were still SO FRIGGIN' EARLY.
When we finally pulled into the airport I was dizzy in a way I can't describe. Maybe it was the speed that I had been driving. Maybe it was the fact that I drank coffee for the first time in about a year. And maybe it was the fact that I tiredly put WAY too much half and half in that coffee. Or maybe it was the fact that I had been driving with one contact lens for hours and hours and hours at the speed of sound. One thing was for sure: I was fucked up. I tried shitting. Didn't work. I tried walking around. Didn't work. I tried to eat an egg and pepper sandwich.
Let me tell you guys something. NEVER assume that an egg and pepper sandwich is the cure to nausea. I woke up in the van at some point, which meant that I had somehow gotten there from innards of the airport and I almost shat myself. There was no way I could move. I couldn't find any water. After about 30 minutes of trying to get up, I finally got up and ran up the elevator, across the skybridge and down another set of stairs to a bathroom where I relieved myself. I then made my way back to the van and received a phone call that said BOVE'S PLANE CAME IN!
Sheldon and I went in and frantically searched for gate C8 so we could be there when he came in. With our hooded sweatshirts and aviator glasses we looked quite suspicious and a majority of the airport staff were happy to lead us in the right direction. As we gave up and decided to meet everyone at the van, one woman who was trying to help us find the gate and keep our bombs away from their planes tragically cried up the stairs "no guys! gate c8 is that way!!!!" She really wanted to help.
To Louis Armstrong Airport Pt. 2, The Revenge
We had a long drive ahead of us. Spanning four to five states. The mapquest directions said it would take 11 hours, that's without stopping to get gas, to get coffee, to take a shit. Without stopping to do anything. Sheldon manned up the shotgun position with me and we were off. Wait. Fuck. I left my sweatshirt at the house.
Ten minutes later, Sheldon manned up the shotgun position with me and we were off. Wait. Fuck. Traffic lights? It turns out we were going for about 150 miles on a road that had traffic lights everywhere. This was worse because I was not permitted to drive fast and make abrupt stops because JT was sleeping above all the tuggage in a little alcove he had made for himself. This alcove was not very sturdy and every traffic light was another opportunity for JT to tumble onto the Costa who was sleeping in the bench underneath him. We had left around 11 and pulled off for gas somewhere in Florida at around 5:00. We figured that we might make it to the airport on time to pick up Bove if we rushed... his plane was coming in at 9:30something AM and there was bound to be a time zone change somewhere.
The woman at the bargain basement only 24 hour gas station in the area was extremely kind when she informed me that the time zone shift had already occurred. She was also nice enough to tell me that we were TWO HOURS AWAY FROM NEW ORLEANS. The police officers told me that there was a bit of fog which would make the drive long. Fuck fog. We had been driving through it all night and we were about to finish a 11 hour drive in SEVEN hours. Knowing that I wouldn't have anything to do at the airport and that I wanted to be awake when Bove came in, I invited Sean to sit down at a booth with me and take in a cup of coffee. We stared at the confederate flags memorabilia and still thought it was pretty strange. We took a half an hour and then started driving again which is when my eyeball exploded. We pulled off again for another half an hour for shits, giggles and more shits. We were still SO FRIGGIN' EARLY.
When we finally pulled into the airport I was dizzy in a way I can't describe. Maybe it was the speed that I had been driving. Maybe it was the fact that I drank coffee for the first time in about a year. And maybe it was the fact that I tiredly put WAY too much half and half in that coffee. Or maybe it was the fact that I had been driving with one contact lens for hours and hours and hours at the speed of sound. One thing was for sure: I was fucked up. I tried shitting. Didn't work. I tried walking around. Didn't work. I tried to eat an egg and pepper sandwich.
Let me tell you guys something. NEVER assume that an egg and pepper sandwich is the cure to nausea. I woke up in the van at some point, which meant that I had somehow gotten there from innards of the airport and I almost shat myself. There was no way I could move. I couldn't find any water. After about 30 minutes of trying to get up, I finally got up and ran up the elevator, across the skybridge and down another set of stairs to a bathroom where I relieved myself. I then made my way back to the van and received a phone call that said BOVE'S PLANE CAME IN!
Sheldon and I went in and frantically searched for gate C8 so we could be there when he came in. With our hooded sweatshirts and aviator glasses we looked quite suspicious and a majority of the airport staff were happy to lead us in the right direction. As we gave up and decided to meet everyone at the van, one woman who was trying to help us find the gate and keep our bombs away from their planes tragically cried up the stairs "no guys! gate c8 is that way!!!!" She really wanted to help.
1.10.2004
Sorry, tour diary people. It has been a bitch to update this thing on the road since we have no internet. Right now I am at the house of a nice girl who is named after Stevie Nicks and I am in Houston, TX. I am going to continue trying to do this in reverse chronological order, but BEAR WITH ME IF IT TAKES A WHILE TO FINISH IT ALL! THERE'S SO MUCH TO LEARN!
To Louis Armstrong Airport
I woke up to wish Adam's parents goodbye. I knew that they were standing there saying goodbye to everyone else because I can sense those kinds of things in my sleep. I also knew that I would be saying goodbye to them later because there was no way that we were going to leave on time for this superdrive to pick up Bove. I was right. We had about seventeen hours to drive and we gave ourselves seventeen hours to do it. I left my home of four days to go out and be "homeless" again.
We went to a U-Haul rental space because we were picking up Bove in the morning. Adam called up my cell phone to let me know that I had left a razor (unintentional) and a sock (intentional) at his place. Since we were still in Coral Springs, Adam came by and we all hung out until I was summoned inside for my credit card (security deposit). And this is why I hate fucking idiots: YOU THINK YOU WOULD BE ABLE TO TELL ME THAT YOU START CHARGING AFTER 1,000 MILES. WE TOLD YOU OUR SITUATION, CUNT. BUT NO. YOU HAD TO HAVE US WAIT FOR AN HOUR AND A HALF WHEN WE'RE ALREADY LATE TO LET US KNOW THAT AFTER 1,000 MILES, MOST OF WHICH WE WOULD BE DRIVING TODAY, YOU START CHARGING 39 CENTS A MILE. We ended up not getting this trailer. And we also started out much much later.
We had made plans to stop off at the Qualls' home which was somewhere in Florida, possibly on the way. I watched the last beautiful Florida sunset that I would see for months or years and felt sorry for myself because I was feeling sorry for being so fortunate. Man, what an asshole. When we pulled up at the Qualls residence, we were greeted with a smile by a man named Bud, Sheldon's grandfather. We were quickly given a few big plastic bags and were asked "You guys like grapefruit?" after which we were lead into his personal grove where he grew his own grapefruits, pink grapefruits and oranges. After we were done picking fruit... now hold on a second, ladies and gentlemen, I just started a sentence with "after we were done picking fruit". punk rock saves lives... we were treated to a homemade Italian feast. Although Sheldon neglected to mention that JT and I were vegetarians, there was a FREAKING FEAST BEFORE US. SALAD. THREE KINDS OF PASTA. ANY MEAT YOU COULD IMAGINE. ALL FOR THE TAKING. We stuffed ourselves and soon enough, Sheldon's family members from the area started stopping by. One brought a pig which is the only pig I have ever seen that looks like Piglet from Winnie the Pooh. I went into the computer room and realized that if we left exactly then, we might be on time. We were sent off with a bag full of 30 pairs of black socks. I don't know why.
PART TWO OF TO THE AIRPORT... COMING SOON!
STAY TUNED FOR: NEW ORLEANS! LAFAYETTE, LOUISIANA! HOUSTON!
To Louis Armstrong Airport
I woke up to wish Adam's parents goodbye. I knew that they were standing there saying goodbye to everyone else because I can sense those kinds of things in my sleep. I also knew that I would be saying goodbye to them later because there was no way that we were going to leave on time for this superdrive to pick up Bove. I was right. We had about seventeen hours to drive and we gave ourselves seventeen hours to do it. I left my home of four days to go out and be "homeless" again.
We went to a U-Haul rental space because we were picking up Bove in the morning. Adam called up my cell phone to let me know that I had left a razor (unintentional) and a sock (intentional) at his place. Since we were still in Coral Springs, Adam came by and we all hung out until I was summoned inside for my credit card (security deposit). And this is why I hate fucking idiots: YOU THINK YOU WOULD BE ABLE TO TELL ME THAT YOU START CHARGING AFTER 1,000 MILES. WE TOLD YOU OUR SITUATION, CUNT. BUT NO. YOU HAD TO HAVE US WAIT FOR AN HOUR AND A HALF WHEN WE'RE ALREADY LATE TO LET US KNOW THAT AFTER 1,000 MILES, MOST OF WHICH WE WOULD BE DRIVING TODAY, YOU START CHARGING 39 CENTS A MILE. We ended up not getting this trailer. And we also started out much much later.
We had made plans to stop off at the Qualls' home which was somewhere in Florida, possibly on the way. I watched the last beautiful Florida sunset that I would see for months or years and felt sorry for myself because I was feeling sorry for being so fortunate. Man, what an asshole. When we pulled up at the Qualls residence, we were greeted with a smile by a man named Bud, Sheldon's grandfather. We were quickly given a few big plastic bags and were asked "You guys like grapefruit?" after which we were lead into his personal grove where he grew his own grapefruits, pink grapefruits and oranges. After we were done picking fruit... now hold on a second, ladies and gentlemen, I just started a sentence with "after we were done picking fruit". punk rock saves lives... we were treated to a homemade Italian feast. Although Sheldon neglected to mention that JT and I were vegetarians, there was a FREAKING FEAST BEFORE US. SALAD. THREE KINDS OF PASTA. ANY MEAT YOU COULD IMAGINE. ALL FOR THE TAKING. We stuffed ourselves and soon enough, Sheldon's family members from the area started stopping by. One brought a pig which is the only pig I have ever seen that looks like Piglet from Winnie the Pooh. I went into the computer room and realized that if we left exactly then, we might be on time. We were sent off with a bag full of 30 pairs of black socks. I don't know why.
PART TWO OF TO THE AIRPORT... COMING SOON!
STAY TUNED FOR: NEW ORLEANS! LAFAYETTE, LOUISIANA! HOUSTON!
1.07.2004
1.04.2004
Miami, FL
I don't quite remember waking up this morning. I think last night was the first time I went to bed without the aid of anti-anxiety medication in a while, so that's awesome for me. Anyway, don't remember when we woke up or what we did but soon enough we were out of Adam's house and on our way to Miami.
We showed up at the show and pulled around the back. When we walked in, imagine our surprise to notice that (gasp) we were playing a real club. A real stage. A real sound system. Decent capacity. We called up the promoter, who I will call Jessie (because I believe her name starts with a Y and when a name is so difficult to pronounce/spell that you can't even decide what the FIRST letter is, you call that person Jessie (especially when upon first meeting this promoter your first words are 'boy, that's hard to pronounce' and she mutters 'you can just call me jessie, asshole' [the asshole is implied and not said])), and asked if we could go on before the headliner. She said Yeah! Holy shit. Our first show of the year was going to be in an awesome place with an awesome time slot.
I think what's important about today is that Sheldon started freaking out because he realized that he likes "the lamest band in the world", Cursive. After skating outside of the venue for about 15 minutes complaining about the song "Art Is Hard" and that it is so good and he hates that it is so good, he knocked on the window of the van frowning and I put Cursive on for him. His reaction was an odd combination of satisfaction and complete hatred. We listened to the live set that was tacked onto the re-issue of Armed Forces by Elvis Costello and got inspired. I later received a phone call from my friend Tim Ruggeri (the Kites) and he told me that his drum tech on their new album that they were recording is Pete Thomas, Elvis Costello's drummer. Congrats, Tim.
We walked to the front of the club and, well, the promoter wasn't there yet and the coat check girl didn't speak much English and was kind of confused when we said "We're the Arrogant Sons of Bitches." She went "what? sons of bitches? go away." The show was awesome. The band before us, Empty Wallet were fast and awesome. Tough act to follow. The kids danced. The kids fucking danced and had fun. There were people coming up onto the stage and dancing and stuff and it shocked me because, fuck, we've never been here before. We got offstage and people bought CDs. People came up to us and spoke to us and were interested and goddamn it felt great to be in a band again. We were even given pasta and breadsticks! Loaded off the stage, loaded out and went to Wal-Mart.
We are certainly the kings of thrifty shopping these days. Sheldon made sick Ramen omlettes and dinner cost all of $1 for all of us as breakfast tomorrow will also cost $1. Dave got into a weird fight with me today about the validity of my vegetarianism because he's only allowed to eat at Taco Bell and Burger King because I don't want to have a potato for dinner. This was probably the longest argument I've ever had about nothing. Dave later played the Deer Hunting video game and I think it got out the aggression he has against animals. We came back, we ate. Tour is awesome. We leave Florida tomorrow I think for an overnight drive to Louisiana to play some more. Kids: join a band.
P.S. BECAUSE THIS TOUR DIARY HAS BEEN SLIGHTLY CORNY BECAUSE WE'VE BEEN ENJOYING OURSELVES, CHECK OUT THIS PHONE CALL WE GOT FROM SOMEONE FROM SWAYZE'S IN MARIETTA, GA.
Swayze's Guy: Yo, if your band ever comes around here again, I'm going to rip out your pubes and eat them in my cereal.
Sheldon: Wait, you're gonna eat my nuts?
Swayze's Guy: (disturbingly upset) No! Your pubes!
Sheldon: The thing about that is.....
P.P.S. thank you Bum Ruckus.
I don't quite remember waking up this morning. I think last night was the first time I went to bed without the aid of anti-anxiety medication in a while, so that's awesome for me. Anyway, don't remember when we woke up or what we did but soon enough we were out of Adam's house and on our way to Miami.
We showed up at the show and pulled around the back. When we walked in, imagine our surprise to notice that (gasp) we were playing a real club. A real stage. A real sound system. Decent capacity. We called up the promoter, who I will call Jessie (because I believe her name starts with a Y and when a name is so difficult to pronounce/spell that you can't even decide what the FIRST letter is, you call that person Jessie (especially when upon first meeting this promoter your first words are 'boy, that's hard to pronounce' and she mutters 'you can just call me jessie, asshole' [the asshole is implied and not said])), and asked if we could go on before the headliner. She said Yeah! Holy shit. Our first show of the year was going to be in an awesome place with an awesome time slot.
I think what's important about today is that Sheldon started freaking out because he realized that he likes "the lamest band in the world", Cursive. After skating outside of the venue for about 15 minutes complaining about the song "Art Is Hard" and that it is so good and he hates that it is so good, he knocked on the window of the van frowning and I put Cursive on for him. His reaction was an odd combination of satisfaction and complete hatred. We listened to the live set that was tacked onto the re-issue of Armed Forces by Elvis Costello and got inspired. I later received a phone call from my friend Tim Ruggeri (the Kites) and he told me that his drum tech on their new album that they were recording is Pete Thomas, Elvis Costello's drummer. Congrats, Tim.
We walked to the front of the club and, well, the promoter wasn't there yet and the coat check girl didn't speak much English and was kind of confused when we said "We're the Arrogant Sons of Bitches." She went "what? sons of bitches? go away." The show was awesome. The band before us, Empty Wallet were fast and awesome. Tough act to follow. The kids danced. The kids fucking danced and had fun. There were people coming up onto the stage and dancing and stuff and it shocked me because, fuck, we've never been here before. We got offstage and people bought CDs. People came up to us and spoke to us and were interested and goddamn it felt great to be in a band again. We were even given pasta and breadsticks! Loaded off the stage, loaded out and went to Wal-Mart.
We are certainly the kings of thrifty shopping these days. Sheldon made sick Ramen omlettes and dinner cost all of $1 for all of us as breakfast tomorrow will also cost $1. Dave got into a weird fight with me today about the validity of my vegetarianism because he's only allowed to eat at Taco Bell and Burger King because I don't want to have a potato for dinner. This was probably the longest argument I've ever had about nothing. Dave later played the Deer Hunting video game and I think it got out the aggression he has against animals. We came back, we ate. Tour is awesome. We leave Florida tomorrow I think for an overnight drive to Louisiana to play some more. Kids: join a band.
P.S. BECAUSE THIS TOUR DIARY HAS BEEN SLIGHTLY CORNY BECAUSE WE'VE BEEN ENJOYING OURSELVES, CHECK OUT THIS PHONE CALL WE GOT FROM SOMEONE FROM SWAYZE'S IN MARIETTA, GA.
Swayze's Guy: Yo, if your band ever comes around here again, I'm going to rip out your pubes and eat them in my cereal.
Sheldon: Wait, you're gonna eat my nuts?
Swayze's Guy: (disturbingly upset) No! Your pubes!
Sheldon: The thing about that is.....
P.P.S. thank you Bum Ruckus.
1.03.2004
Coral Springs/Ft. Lauderdale, FL
Ringing in the new year with two days off. The first day we woke up late and didn't do shit.
Today was awesome on the other hand. We woke up around noon and decided we were going to go to the beach because, fuck, we're in Florida. We have a place to stay, and it is January yet still friggin' warm warm warm. In the morning we e-mailed a bunch of venues trying to get a few shows to fill up our slightly spotty tour. Work was done. Let's go.
We are on our way down to the beach and we discover that Taco Bell has a 99 cent vegetarian burrito that weighs HALF A POUND. We stopped off and had a cheap cheap delicious lunch then headed over to A1A, the street that inspired Vanilla Ice to write Ice Ice Baby or the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Rap, I can't remember which. We were walking down the strip of stores and Adam made a joke about us getting tattoos that lasted for 3 weeks. The second he said that I said "fuck that. i'm gonna get a tattoo." We let it slide for a little while, knowing that all the stores on the strip were way too fucking expensive for me. Sean got his skateboard and Dave, Adam and I walked onto the beach. The water was fucking warm. Had I not been wearing my only clean pair of pants I would have jumped in immediately. Instead I rolled them up to coolot length and walked in with my cell phone calling a bunch of suckers who I care about very much and are stuck in New York, letting them know that I was in the ocean in January and not a member of the polar bear club.
Sean decided we should panhandle a little bit so we went to the van and got the guitar, glockenspiel and set up right along the beach. It was fucking beautiful. We played a bunch of cover songs, the greatest of which was when a Rastafarian came up to us and asked us to play some Marley. I said I would only play "Redemption Song" if he sang the words. He said he was a musician and we rocked out together and I realized that I am probably the luckiest person in the world right now and I have to do my best not to take it for granted or ever forget this tour. It sounds lame and cheesy, but fucking Florida in January is incredible.
So I asked Adam where we should get these fucking tattoos. I just wanted to price it. See how bad it would be. I already knew what I wanted and I didn't even have my ID so most likely I would have to go back in the morning if I wanted to actually get a tattoo. When we went there, the door was locked and I was pretty bummed but they eventually heard us knocking and let us in. The tattoo I wanted wasn't too expensive. Dave and I both decided a while ago that we were gonna get some kind of tattoo to commemorate having an awesome tour. Since that last tour ranged from depression to elation, and I didn't know what to get, we never ended up actually doing it. But once I was game, Dave was down too. So we did it. We got fucking tattoos. It feels kind of like someone is burning you but in a very focused way. I gritted my teeth a bit from the pain, Dave turned his gritted teeth periodically to kissy faces. The artist was great and both of our tattoos are AWESOME.
We came back and made about two pounds of pasta and sauce for THREE BUCKS. We ate cheap and it was glorious. My new year's resolution is to realize that we're spoiled and very lucky right now, but to not feel bad about it. It's okay to be lucky sometimes. I love everyone and I miss everyone. Hope all is well and I hope you have awesome 2004s.
Ringing in the new year with two days off. The first day we woke up late and didn't do shit.
Today was awesome on the other hand. We woke up around noon and decided we were going to go to the beach because, fuck, we're in Florida. We have a place to stay, and it is January yet still friggin' warm warm warm. In the morning we e-mailed a bunch of venues trying to get a few shows to fill up our slightly spotty tour. Work was done. Let's go.
We are on our way down to the beach and we discover that Taco Bell has a 99 cent vegetarian burrito that weighs HALF A POUND. We stopped off and had a cheap cheap delicious lunch then headed over to A1A, the street that inspired Vanilla Ice to write Ice Ice Baby or the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Rap, I can't remember which. We were walking down the strip of stores and Adam made a joke about us getting tattoos that lasted for 3 weeks. The second he said that I said "fuck that. i'm gonna get a tattoo." We let it slide for a little while, knowing that all the stores on the strip were way too fucking expensive for me. Sean got his skateboard and Dave, Adam and I walked onto the beach. The water was fucking warm. Had I not been wearing my only clean pair of pants I would have jumped in immediately. Instead I rolled them up to coolot length and walked in with my cell phone calling a bunch of suckers who I care about very much and are stuck in New York, letting them know that I was in the ocean in January and not a member of the polar bear club.
Sean decided we should panhandle a little bit so we went to the van and got the guitar, glockenspiel and set up right along the beach. It was fucking beautiful. We played a bunch of cover songs, the greatest of which was when a Rastafarian came up to us and asked us to play some Marley. I said I would only play "Redemption Song" if he sang the words. He said he was a musician and we rocked out together and I realized that I am probably the luckiest person in the world right now and I have to do my best not to take it for granted or ever forget this tour. It sounds lame and cheesy, but fucking Florida in January is incredible.
So I asked Adam where we should get these fucking tattoos. I just wanted to price it. See how bad it would be. I already knew what I wanted and I didn't even have my ID so most likely I would have to go back in the morning if I wanted to actually get a tattoo. When we went there, the door was locked and I was pretty bummed but they eventually heard us knocking and let us in. The tattoo I wanted wasn't too expensive. Dave and I both decided a while ago that we were gonna get some kind of tattoo to commemorate having an awesome tour. Since that last tour ranged from depression to elation, and I didn't know what to get, we never ended up actually doing it. But once I was game, Dave was down too. So we did it. We got fucking tattoos. It feels kind of like someone is burning you but in a very focused way. I gritted my teeth a bit from the pain, Dave turned his gritted teeth periodically to kissy faces. The artist was great and both of our tattoos are AWESOME.
We came back and made about two pounds of pasta and sauce for THREE BUCKS. We ate cheap and it was glorious. My new year's resolution is to realize that we're spoiled and very lucky right now, but to not feel bad about it. It's okay to be lucky sometimes. I love everyone and I miss everyone. Hope all is well and I hope you have awesome 2004s.
1.01.2004
Ft. Myers, FL
I woke up in the van and we were still moving. I looked at the temperature clock and it said 80 degrees. Holy shit. It was a gorgeous awesome day. We walked outside once we got to Adam's and Sheldon and I were jumping up and down because it was so nice outside. We hung out at Adam's for a little bit, caught up on old times, we ate some of the ramen and pastas that we got at the supermarket (the night before, Brian from the Know How was nice enough to give us a 17 dollar gift card to Winn-Dixie) and then went to the show. I was still so excited that I was dancing all around the gas station before we got on Alligator Alley.
Alligator Alley is a highway that is surrounded by swamp on both sides. You cannot enter, exit or do anything but drive on Alligator Alley for about 70 miles. It was a gorgeous gorgeous drive. Incredible. Mind-blowing. Breathtaking. All that stuff. It filled me with adrenaline it was so fucking beautiful. We saw the awesomest sunset EVER to take place in America. And then it hit me. We are so fucking lucky to be able to do what we are doing. We really are the luckiest people in the world: we get to travel around the country and wear t-shirts in December because we dance around like idiots and make rock and roll music. I had never felt so fortunate in my entire life.
We pulled up to the venue blastin' ODB with Adam's portable cooler/refrigerator complete with mine and Dave's bottles of champagne in tact. The venue was friggin' awesome. It was a huge gymnasium rigged up with a bunch of star-shaped Christmas lights that were sporadically flashing. It looked like the set of a rock and roll video. The people at the venue were really nice too. They fed us pizza and they gave us soda. We played our last show of the year and all the kids danced and had a great time. Or a majority of the kids. Whatever. We talked to a lot of interesting people and then put a sign up on our merch table that told kids to wait to buy merch, because we were going to the van to celebrate the new year.
Dave frantically searched for stations on the radio that we could listen to that would have the ball drop. He found a news one but that turned into music. He found a music one and that turned into news. They were talking about the Dow Jones or some shit and then a little noise went off signaling the turn of the hour. No countdown. No nothing. After the noise they brought the feed live to Times Square. Oddly enough, the second that the noise signaling the turn of the hour went off, Dave's cork flew off his champagne bottle without Dave laying a finger on it. I laughed for a split second until mine flew off without me laying a finger on it either and blasted me right in the face.
We started drinking our champagne and calling people and then I noticed that there were FIREWORKS going off. Not bullshit fireworks. Real, awesome fireworks. It was incredible and awesome. At this point I realized that I really am the luckiest person in the world and that this is the happiest I've ever been in my entire life. So HAPPY FUCKING NEW YEAR EVERYONE. If you didn't get a drunken phone call from me, feel privileged. Kris Roe of the Ataris did. But seriously. HAPPY. FUCKING. NEW. FUCKING. YEAR. Florida is gorgeous, my life can't and won't get any better than New Year's Eve 2003/2004.
I woke up in the van and we were still moving. I looked at the temperature clock and it said 80 degrees. Holy shit. It was a gorgeous awesome day. We walked outside once we got to Adam's and Sheldon and I were jumping up and down because it was so nice outside. We hung out at Adam's for a little bit, caught up on old times, we ate some of the ramen and pastas that we got at the supermarket (the night before, Brian from the Know How was nice enough to give us a 17 dollar gift card to Winn-Dixie) and then went to the show. I was still so excited that I was dancing all around the gas station before we got on Alligator Alley.
Alligator Alley is a highway that is surrounded by swamp on both sides. You cannot enter, exit or do anything but drive on Alligator Alley for about 70 miles. It was a gorgeous gorgeous drive. Incredible. Mind-blowing. Breathtaking. All that stuff. It filled me with adrenaline it was so fucking beautiful. We saw the awesomest sunset EVER to take place in America. And then it hit me. We are so fucking lucky to be able to do what we are doing. We really are the luckiest people in the world: we get to travel around the country and wear t-shirts in December because we dance around like idiots and make rock and roll music. I had never felt so fortunate in my entire life.
We pulled up to the venue blastin' ODB with Adam's portable cooler/refrigerator complete with mine and Dave's bottles of champagne in tact. The venue was friggin' awesome. It was a huge gymnasium rigged up with a bunch of star-shaped Christmas lights that were sporadically flashing. It looked like the set of a rock and roll video. The people at the venue were really nice too. They fed us pizza and they gave us soda. We played our last show of the year and all the kids danced and had a great time. Or a majority of the kids. Whatever. We talked to a lot of interesting people and then put a sign up on our merch table that told kids to wait to buy merch, because we were going to the van to celebrate the new year.
Dave frantically searched for stations on the radio that we could listen to that would have the ball drop. He found a news one but that turned into music. He found a music one and that turned into news. They were talking about the Dow Jones or some shit and then a little noise went off signaling the turn of the hour. No countdown. No nothing. After the noise they brought the feed live to Times Square. Oddly enough, the second that the noise signaling the turn of the hour went off, Dave's cork flew off his champagne bottle without Dave laying a finger on it. I laughed for a split second until mine flew off without me laying a finger on it either and blasted me right in the face.
We started drinking our champagne and calling people and then I noticed that there were FIREWORKS going off. Not bullshit fireworks. Real, awesome fireworks. It was incredible and awesome. At this point I realized that I really am the luckiest person in the world and that this is the happiest I've ever been in my entire life. So HAPPY FUCKING NEW YEAR EVERYONE. If you didn't get a drunken phone call from me, feel privileged. Kris Roe of the Ataris did. But seriously. HAPPY. FUCKING. NEW. FUCKING. YEAR. Florida is gorgeous, my life can't and won't get any better than New Year's Eve 2003/2004.
Gainesville, FL
I'm tired. It is the first day of the year and I'm already retroactively pining over last year already. AWESOME!
We woke up in the Motel 6 and left to pick up Mike at his aunt's house. We had told him that we were in South Atlanta. He heard that we were in ----- Atlanta aka plain old Atlanta which meant we needed to drive south on 75 towards Macon, Georgia to get to Fayateville or something.
- Do you have an exit number?
- no.
- Does anyone there know an exit number?
- no.
- How about rough milemarkers?
- no.
- How about mapquest?
- no. you'll see it.
So we drove south for about 80 or 90 miles and we knew something was up. We had done this drive before, and it wasn't so f'ing long. Frantically I started calling everyone I knew and asked if they had a computer and if so, what milemarker Fayateville would be around. When I finally got through to Christine Hooker, I had already known deep down inside that we must have made a giant mistake.
Jeff...
- fuck.
It's...
- fuck.
milemarker...
- fuck.
233.
- fuck.
What?
- what?
Milemarker 233.
- shit.
We had driven to somewhere in the 110s. South. That is over a hundred miles away from where we needed to be. As it turns out, Mike's relatives lived seven miles north of the motel we had stayed at. And we drove a hundred miles south. We pulled off at a gas station to put some more 87 in the motherfucker and the prices were high. Not on gas. On food items. And I say this because they were RIDICULOUSLY high. For no reason! There were exits a couple miles before, and a couple of miles after. These assholes were charging $1.59 for a bag of bargain basement store brand chips that would usually cost twenty-five cents at most. Two bucks for a cup of shitty instant coffee. Six bucks for a bag of nuts. The maps were shrink-wrapped and preceded by four signs mounted to each side of the rotating display rack:
DO NOT READ MAPS IN THE STORE. BUY THE MAP FIRST. THEN YOU CAN READ IT
No, shit. They're shrink-wrapped you money stealing sons of motherfuckers. The only un-shrink-wrapped map I found was a broad map of the Eastern United States that showed where Fayateville was. Christine was right. If anything, it was further north. I got to the right exit in about forty-five minutes. This was my unstoppable day of driving superpower. We stopped at a gas station and two sets of directions to Highway 85: one that made perfect sense and one that was completely unintelligible through the southern drawl. Dave and I decided to go for the directions that was claimed we could both understand. After a while, we decided to turn around and just take the correct directions.
When we had finally gotten to Mike's house, it was about 3:00. We were planning to leave at 11:00 so we could get to the show at a proper load-in time, 7:00 PM. The guy SPECIFICALLY set this show up for us, so we didn't want to be rude. We realized we could definitely play if we got there by 8:00, when the show started, but that still did not look likely when we were entering 75 around 3:30, ready to take a 6 hour drive. Well, quick driving got us to the show at 8:04.
AAAAAAND... no one was really at the show. The promoter explained to me that it was really short notice and it was 21+ so it'd be a bit odd, and it was. There were a few kids who were watching us which was nice. Some girl was on way too much LSD and drew a picture on our mailing list. It was a pretty fun show. We played a Taking Back Sunday song and two Radiohead songs. The microphones once again were not grounded and I put my teeth on the microphone while we were singing, which sent a shock through the nerve endings in my teeth through my entire skull. Ouch. Some 33-year-old glassblower said he really liked us. We met Brian from the Know-How and he was really nice. We decided to sleep in the van because we couldn't afford anything else. JT and Dave started to drive to our friend Adam's where we would be staying for a few days and I slept. Happily happily happily.
I'm tired. It is the first day of the year and I'm already retroactively pining over last year already. AWESOME!
We woke up in the Motel 6 and left to pick up Mike at his aunt's house. We had told him that we were in South Atlanta. He heard that we were in ----- Atlanta aka plain old Atlanta which meant we needed to drive south on 75 towards Macon, Georgia to get to Fayateville or something.
- Do you have an exit number?
- no.
- Does anyone there know an exit number?
- no.
- How about rough milemarkers?
- no.
- How about mapquest?
- no. you'll see it.
So we drove south for about 80 or 90 miles and we knew something was up. We had done this drive before, and it wasn't so f'ing long. Frantically I started calling everyone I knew and asked if they had a computer and if so, what milemarker Fayateville would be around. When I finally got through to Christine Hooker, I had already known deep down inside that we must have made a giant mistake.
Jeff...
- fuck.
It's...
- fuck.
milemarker...
- fuck.
233.
- fuck.
What?
- what?
Milemarker 233.
- shit.
We had driven to somewhere in the 110s. South. That is over a hundred miles away from where we needed to be. As it turns out, Mike's relatives lived seven miles north of the motel we had stayed at. And we drove a hundred miles south. We pulled off at a gas station to put some more 87 in the motherfucker and the prices were high. Not on gas. On food items. And I say this because they were RIDICULOUSLY high. For no reason! There were exits a couple miles before, and a couple of miles after. These assholes were charging $1.59 for a bag of bargain basement store brand chips that would usually cost twenty-five cents at most. Two bucks for a cup of shitty instant coffee. Six bucks for a bag of nuts. The maps were shrink-wrapped and preceded by four signs mounted to each side of the rotating display rack:
DO NOT READ MAPS IN THE STORE. BUY THE MAP FIRST. THEN YOU CAN READ IT
No, shit. They're shrink-wrapped you money stealing sons of motherfuckers. The only un-shrink-wrapped map I found was a broad map of the Eastern United States that showed where Fayateville was. Christine was right. If anything, it was further north. I got to the right exit in about forty-five minutes. This was my unstoppable day of driving superpower. We stopped at a gas station and two sets of directions to Highway 85: one that made perfect sense and one that was completely unintelligible through the southern drawl. Dave and I decided to go for the directions that was claimed we could both understand. After a while, we decided to turn around and just take the correct directions.
When we had finally gotten to Mike's house, it was about 3:00. We were planning to leave at 11:00 so we could get to the show at a proper load-in time, 7:00 PM. The guy SPECIFICALLY set this show up for us, so we didn't want to be rude. We realized we could definitely play if we got there by 8:00, when the show started, but that still did not look likely when we were entering 75 around 3:30, ready to take a 6 hour drive. Well, quick driving got us to the show at 8:04.
AAAAAAND... no one was really at the show. The promoter explained to me that it was really short notice and it was 21+ so it'd be a bit odd, and it was. There were a few kids who were watching us which was nice. Some girl was on way too much LSD and drew a picture on our mailing list. It was a pretty fun show. We played a Taking Back Sunday song and two Radiohead songs. The microphones once again were not grounded and I put my teeth on the microphone while we were singing, which sent a shock through the nerve endings in my teeth through my entire skull. Ouch. Some 33-year-old glassblower said he really liked us. We met Brian from the Know-How and he was really nice. We decided to sleep in the van because we couldn't afford anything else. JT and Dave started to drive to our friend Adam's where we would be staying for a few days and I slept. Happily happily happily.
Marietta, GA
It was a two hour drive from the Motel 6 in Augusta, GA to Marietta. I slept in between the two beds in my sleeping bag. There was a dresser in between the beds, but unlike most dressers these didn't connect to the ground... they were mica and kind of attached to the wall. During the night, my head somehow slipped under it while sleeping and Sheldon tells me I woke up banging my head into it about 5 times during the night and just started muttering "fuck! fuck! fuck!" When I finally woke up it was about 5 minutes to check out time. We checked out about an hour late and took Motel 6 pillows like we usually do. Unfortunately when I was doing the idiot check, the desk clerk at the Motel 6 came up and asked us to check out.
background on this desk clerk. he was without a doubt the smoothest guy ever. he was laid back and super SUPER smooooooth
He comes in and just says, "aw, man... you takin' my pillows?" So, yeah, we returned them and continued to use that Motel 6 computer for about an hour getting directions to our next 3 shows.
We showed up at our shows about 5 hours early and didn't have all that much to do. We walked into a pawn shop that had the highest ratio of confederate flag to wall space that I had ever seen. Sheldon decided he needed a haircut, so we went to the barber shop. There we were, two boys from New York in a barber shop full of over 50-years-old dudes from the south. On the television was Judge Judy, coincidentally showing an episode with two stereotypical southerners who have trailers and can't speak properly dealing with Judge Judy, a stereotypical New Yawker who always thinks she's right and tawks about her hardcore approach to justice. On the other hand, Sheldon and I were having a great time in the barber shop talking to the kind kind people who were there. Sheldon's head is now shaved, they offered me a cut but I declined. During this interim, JT and Dave went to Publix one of the finest damn pharmacies in America. They bought me some Christmas lights and I believe JT bought a box of wine. We still had so much time to kill. We tied up all our merch. We went to bookstores, Starbucks... there was not much there.
The guys from Nakatomi Plaza showed up, and it turns out that their guitar player is good friends with one of my good friends and that we had met before. He also used to be in a Long Island ska band called the Insurgent. To top off the Long Island chain, We Vs. The Shark showed up and Jeff Tobias (bass, keyboard) used to be in Long Island band We Are Groove Animals. AND TO TOP IT ALL OFF: Nakatomi Plaza was selling an old old crappy compilation with We Are Groove Animals on it. Jeff Tobias ended up playing bass guitar with us that day. We had never ever played with him before, not even practiced, but we tried and, well, we didn't do that well but it was a lot of fun. We had a decent time, and an even decenter time talking to everyone afterwards. All the Nakatomi Plaza guys were SWELL SWELL folks and they had a fine fine band that you should be hearing a lot about since they are from LI and on Immigrant Sun records. It was nice to be playing with such a great band.
We Vs. The Shark on the other hand TRANSCENDING greatness at this show. They blew everyone off the stage, and Nakatomi Plaza was really good so that's hard to do. We Vs. The Shark is my bet for band you will be seeing everywhere in about a year. They are from Georgia, I don't know their website off hand, but google search them. They will destroy you. They ARE that good. It was an honor stealing their bass player.
We said good bye to Jeff Tobias which was sad, but he lived an hour and half north and we had to drive 6 hours south to Gainesville. We then bid farewell to the Nakatomi Plaza guys who are making their way up the east coast now and deserve to be checked out. Someone offered us a place to stay, but we all had a hunch that it was going to be a huge party where we would be buying the beer and we all kind of wanted to sleep. Plus we heard a lot of John Mayer jokes, and I hate those. Anyway, thank you to Gus and the other two who refused to give me their names for offering a place to stay that night. I was also offered fondue, which I have never had in my entire life, but I turned it down because I am an idiot.
It was a two hour drive from the Motel 6 in Augusta, GA to Marietta. I slept in between the two beds in my sleeping bag. There was a dresser in between the beds, but unlike most dressers these didn't connect to the ground... they were mica and kind of attached to the wall. During the night, my head somehow slipped under it while sleeping and Sheldon tells me I woke up banging my head into it about 5 times during the night and just started muttering "fuck! fuck! fuck!" When I finally woke up it was about 5 minutes to check out time. We checked out about an hour late and took Motel 6 pillows like we usually do. Unfortunately when I was doing the idiot check, the desk clerk at the Motel 6 came up and asked us to check out.
background on this desk clerk. he was without a doubt the smoothest guy ever. he was laid back and super SUPER smooooooth
He comes in and just says, "aw, man... you takin' my pillows?" So, yeah, we returned them and continued to use that Motel 6 computer for about an hour getting directions to our next 3 shows.
We showed up at our shows about 5 hours early and didn't have all that much to do. We walked into a pawn shop that had the highest ratio of confederate flag to wall space that I had ever seen. Sheldon decided he needed a haircut, so we went to the barber shop. There we were, two boys from New York in a barber shop full of over 50-years-old dudes from the south. On the television was Judge Judy, coincidentally showing an episode with two stereotypical southerners who have trailers and can't speak properly dealing with Judge Judy, a stereotypical New Yawker who always thinks she's right and tawks about her hardcore approach to justice. On the other hand, Sheldon and I were having a great time in the barber shop talking to the kind kind people who were there. Sheldon's head is now shaved, they offered me a cut but I declined. During this interim, JT and Dave went to Publix one of the finest damn pharmacies in America. They bought me some Christmas lights and I believe JT bought a box of wine. We still had so much time to kill. We tied up all our merch. We went to bookstores, Starbucks... there was not much there.
The guys from Nakatomi Plaza showed up, and it turns out that their guitar player is good friends with one of my good friends and that we had met before. He also used to be in a Long Island ska band called the Insurgent. To top off the Long Island chain, We Vs. The Shark showed up and Jeff Tobias (bass, keyboard) used to be in Long Island band We Are Groove Animals. AND TO TOP IT ALL OFF: Nakatomi Plaza was selling an old old crappy compilation with We Are Groove Animals on it. Jeff Tobias ended up playing bass guitar with us that day. We had never ever played with him before, not even practiced, but we tried and, well, we didn't do that well but it was a lot of fun. We had a decent time, and an even decenter time talking to everyone afterwards. All the Nakatomi Plaza guys were SWELL SWELL folks and they had a fine fine band that you should be hearing a lot about since they are from LI and on Immigrant Sun records. It was nice to be playing with such a great band.
We Vs. The Shark on the other hand TRANSCENDING greatness at this show. They blew everyone off the stage, and Nakatomi Plaza was really good so that's hard to do. We Vs. The Shark is my bet for band you will be seeing everywhere in about a year. They are from Georgia, I don't know their website off hand, but google search them. They will destroy you. They ARE that good. It was an honor stealing their bass player.
We said good bye to Jeff Tobias which was sad, but he lived an hour and half north and we had to drive 6 hours south to Gainesville. We then bid farewell to the Nakatomi Plaza guys who are making their way up the east coast now and deserve to be checked out. Someone offered us a place to stay, but we all had a hunch that it was going to be a huge party where we would be buying the beer and we all kind of wanted to sleep. Plus we heard a lot of John Mayer jokes, and I hate those. Anyway, thank you to Gus and the other two who refused to give me their names for offering a place to stay that night. I was also offered fondue, which I have never had in my entire life, but I turned it down because I am an idiot.
12.29.2003
Georgia
The sign above me says:
COMPUTER FOR GUEST USE ONLY
Please Be Courteous If Others Are Waiting To Use The Computer.
Thank You
This computer is taking way too long to load its pages. Back at the awesome Motel 6. So here's what happened today. When it is at ALL possible, we try our best to be on time to shows that we can actually be on time for. Since we were 20 minutes away we decided to show up on time to this show that, yknow, we weren't supposed to be playing (we took Bum Ruckus's slot without asking the promoter until like about 2 hours before).
We roll up and the place looks awesome. But no one is there. It is a while before doors, so we wait a while. We backline our stuff. We sleep a bit. No one is there but the bands. "Fuck" we all say to ourselves simultaneously. We slept a whole lot at the venue and then were treated to The Cubists, a band that consisted of a guitar/singer and a drummer and they rocked pretty hard. Up next were a punk rock band called Sick Sick Sick. It was their first show and they covered a Turbonegro song. They also had a sing-along about cell phone ring tones. I think they tried to get the crowd to chant back and forth "Change your ring tone" and "I like my ring tone." The cool thing about this band is that their drummer has a leg problem in which his legs are turned outward. It made it difficult for him to walk, but he still played the DRUMS! OF ALL INSTRUMENTS. His kick pedal was pretty cool at time. And this is how he did it: Draw an upside down "V"
done? Ok... now draw the same thing but increase the angle.
Done? One side of the V was one leg going to a bass drum and one leg going to a hi-hat. It was pretty cool to see. Up next, to follow the eclecticism of this show was a ONE MAN BAND. This guy, Duck Duck Grey Duck, strapped a bass drum on his back with a megaphone attached to it, wore a headpiece that contained the mouthpiece to that megaphone, put tambourines all on one of his legs and tied a saddle to his other leg which controlled the bass drum. He then proceeded to march around the room while screaming and playing the accordion. We didn't know if we could really follow that up, but for some reason we REALLY REALLY REALLY did well at this show. It was a lot of fun. There were only about 15 kids there, but those 15 kids knew how to have a good time and I would take that over a room full of bored hipsters or assholes waiting for the local band ANY DAY. There were a lot of interesting characters from a mother of a four-month-old child to a [pc term for very very short guy] who told us after the show that he was being flown out to Japan with the Independents so he could dress up as a midget devil or somethin. He told me "It's great. I get to go to Europe and Japan for free just for being short!" The show was so much fun, we even convinced the guy from Duck Duck Grey Duck (his name is Alex, but you don't know that) to play "Piss Off" with us. We were all in a pretty bummed and tired mood because this is the first show on tour that didn't have a huge turnout for us and we knew the day was coming soon but we were, y'know, trying to prolong the inevitable. But the energy of the people at this show... even if they were sitting down I knew they were supporting any new ideas they got, whether it was a one-man-band or whether it was ska. So today turned from something that was depressing and miserable into the most eclectic show we ever played and one of the best times I've had on tour without the help of alcohol. We celebrated by going to a supermarket and spending six dollars on food that could feed a family of 5.
The sign above me says:
COMPUTER FOR GUEST USE ONLY
Please Be Courteous If Others Are Waiting To Use The Computer.
Thank You
This computer is taking way too long to load its pages. Back at the awesome Motel 6. So here's what happened today. When it is at ALL possible, we try our best to be on time to shows that we can actually be on time for. Since we were 20 minutes away we decided to show up on time to this show that, yknow, we weren't supposed to be playing (we took Bum Ruckus's slot without asking the promoter until like about 2 hours before).
We roll up and the place looks awesome. But no one is there. It is a while before doors, so we wait a while. We backline our stuff. We sleep a bit. No one is there but the bands. "Fuck" we all say to ourselves simultaneously. We slept a whole lot at the venue and then were treated to The Cubists, a band that consisted of a guitar/singer and a drummer and they rocked pretty hard. Up next were a punk rock band called Sick Sick Sick. It was their first show and they covered a Turbonegro song. They also had a sing-along about cell phone ring tones. I think they tried to get the crowd to chant back and forth "Change your ring tone" and "I like my ring tone." The cool thing about this band is that their drummer has a leg problem in which his legs are turned outward. It made it difficult for him to walk, but he still played the DRUMS! OF ALL INSTRUMENTS. His kick pedal was pretty cool at time. And this is how he did it: Draw an upside down "V"
done? Ok... now draw the same thing but increase the angle.
Done? One side of the V was one leg going to a bass drum and one leg going to a hi-hat. It was pretty cool to see. Up next, to follow the eclecticism of this show was a ONE MAN BAND. This guy, Duck Duck Grey Duck, strapped a bass drum on his back with a megaphone attached to it, wore a headpiece that contained the mouthpiece to that megaphone, put tambourines all on one of his legs and tied a saddle to his other leg which controlled the bass drum. He then proceeded to march around the room while screaming and playing the accordion. We didn't know if we could really follow that up, but for some reason we REALLY REALLY REALLY did well at this show. It was a lot of fun. There were only about 15 kids there, but those 15 kids knew how to have a good time and I would take that over a room full of bored hipsters or assholes waiting for the local band ANY DAY. There were a lot of interesting characters from a mother of a four-month-old child to a [pc term for very very short guy] who told us after the show that he was being flown out to Japan with the Independents so he could dress up as a midget devil or somethin. He told me "It's great. I get to go to Europe and Japan for free just for being short!" The show was so much fun, we even convinced the guy from Duck Duck Grey Duck (his name is Alex, but you don't know that) to play "Piss Off" with us. We were all in a pretty bummed and tired mood because this is the first show on tour that didn't have a huge turnout for us and we knew the day was coming soon but we were, y'know, trying to prolong the inevitable. But the energy of the people at this show... even if they were sitting down I knew they were supporting any new ideas they got, whether it was a one-man-band or whether it was ska. So today turned from something that was depressing and miserable into the most eclectic show we ever played and one of the best times I've had on tour without the help of alcohol. We celebrated by going to a supermarket and spending six dollars on food that could feed a family of 5.
12.28.2003
Virginia Beach to North Carolina... uh, South Carolina... uh, Augusta Georgia
I woke up in the morning to the delicious smell of Morningstar fake sausage links. Jenna's family gave a 5 million course breakfast which included coffee (!), homemade waffles (!!) and REAL maple syrup (!!!) to name a few things. After a while, we knew we had to head out. Today was the huge drive to Virginia Beach.
I took on the drive because I like driving. Turns out however, there was TERRIBLE traffic on the 95 in Jersey. When I say terrible, I mean a two and a half hour almost stand-still. For the first time ever I saw those advisory lights blinking on the side of the road DEMANDING we tune to 1610 AM and receive the traffic report. Of course I assumed that they are always blinking until JT said "I've never seen those things flash in my entire life! Turn to 1610! Turn off the iPod!" They suggested that we take 195 West to 295 South to the Delaware Memorial Bridge. The fact that they were broadcasting about exactly what road we were on made me extremely excited to take the detour. So excited that I am actually typing about this detour over 24 hours later. This is what I remember about our trip.
We made our rounds down the east coast. The most important stop as usual was the tobacco outlet right after the bridge in Delaware. Smokers: It is worth the trip to Delaware if you go here. Two cartons of Marlboro Blend No. 27 cost $24. That's about $1.20 per pack. Now that our van was filled with the nicotine we needed for the tour it was time to rush rush rush to the show, because we had to be there at 7:00 (!!) and it was already 3 or 4:00 (!!) and we had a long drive to go (!!not enought time!!) We stopped off to get gas somewhere in Virginia and everything was nice and cheap. I saw a pornography advertisement that said "WHAT WOULD YOU DO WITH THREE EXTRA INCHES?" The picture was a woman wearing obviously too much makeup and looked like she was in her mid-40's and had been beaten by her husband about three minutes prior to snapshot time trying to cram a large penis into her mouth. Hot. Mike and Sean ordered sandwiches and apparently had to fill out online surveys to get said sandwiches. Forty five minutes later, we were forty five more minutes late to the show.
I sped as fast as I could, imagining that one of the speed-limit enforcing aircrafts would fly down in the middle of the 18 miles bridge connected one part of Virginia to Virginia Beach and stop all lanes of traffic to give me a California-style $800 speeding ticket. When we finally got to the show (traffic violation free), Dave informed me that he really didn't know what time the show ACTUALLY started, but 7:00 was a guess. We were kind of early. Thanks a lot Dave.
The show went awesomely. Sean played bass for the first time ever and I had to play guitar. That was kind of interesting because I don't know how to play the guitar really and Sean doesn't know how to play the bass really. What's more interesting is that Dave doesn't really know how to play the bass and JT doesn't know how to play the guitar, but they were pitching in on those instruments as well. Lots of people sitting at tables who I made fun of. Succeeding the show, those people bought me pitchers upon pitchers of beers and smokes because they wanted to prove that they weren't jerks. SCORE. The donation jar to fly Bove down to New Orleans to meet us went pretty well, and I think I stole a pitcher from the place, so if anyone from The Jewish Mother ever reads this, feel free to come up to Long Island and visit me and I'll give you said pitcher. The bands we played with (Bum Ruckus, Murphy's Kids and Jackmove) were all FUCKING GREAT. They are all awesome bands, it's definitely downhill from here probably because we've played with too many great ska bands at this point. KIDS: SKA EXISTS. LONG ISLAND IS FUCKING WITH YOU. Drunkenly, Eddie (bum ruckus), John (murphy's kids) and I decided to book a national tour in May with the three of our bands... an independent ska tour if you will. If that was just drunken banter, this will the last you will hear of it. If not, just you wait. I can't say the name of this tour because it is very offensive. Period. Don't ask. We'll change it. When I get back from tour I will scan the bar napkin in which I drew a map of America and the spots we plan to hit. On the map words like "Florida", "Jeremy", and "Do This When You Are Sober" are written sporadically as well as area codes for some reason.
We were going to stay at one of Jackmove's places (Sean Patrick & Melissa) except we had gotten a show today in Augusta. Oh yeah, the second that we showed up to the venue Eddie from Bum Ruckus hooked us up with 3 shows. Pretty much immediately. That's how you book a tour kids. As you go along. It was a 10 hour drive to Augusta so we couldn't stay over (fuck.) and we couldn't try and take advantage of drunk females (fuck. fuck.) and most importantly we would not be guaranteed (sic?) breakfast in the morning (fuckfuckfuckgoddammit.)
3:00 AM: Dave drives us to a gas station as we all call our close good friends trying to find out if one of them can Mapquest Virginia Beach to Augusta, Georgia.
4:00 AM: JT switches over to drive. I sit shotgun. We go until about 6:40 when we see a Motel 6 in Fayetteville, NC. Awesome. Sleep. No. No. NO.
ME: Do you have any vacancies?
MOTEL 6 AWFUL PERSON: No.
ME: I didn't see that many cars in the parking lot. You sure you don't have anything?
M6AP: No. And there's nothing in this town.
ME: What about...
M6AP: No.
ME: any other...
M6AP: No.
ME: motels nearby?
M6AP: No. They're all booked. Everyone came in tonight.
ME: Why?
M6AP: (walks away)
ME: Hey.
ME: (five minutes later) HEY! Can I have a Motel 6 directory.
M6AP: They are all booked up in North Carolina along I-95.
ME: Do you...
M6AP: No.
ME: (punches woman in the face)
7:00 AM: We wake Sean up because JT can't stay awake anymore. He was less than thrilled. He is sitting here watching me type this. I would usually say something like "he was a fuckin' pussy, fuckin' pussy can't fuckin' wake fuckin' up in the fuckin' morning." He thought that was funny. He's nodding. We walked into McDonalds with hair disheveled (sic?). Dave followed us in there and put both of our hair to shame. There was no McGriddle Value Meal posted on the big menu, but they had them. Thank god. You kids need to eat these. We agreed that Dave and Sean would take the drive all the way to Georgia so we had a motel for TWO nights. JT had already taken a bench to sleep on, I tried to cram into the floor while choking down my undigested McGriddle for about 2 hours.
9:00 AM: I eventually coerced Mike, whose suitcase had falled on top of him while he was sleeping and he looked like he was snuggling with it, to switch spots with me. Of course I sleep the only time Fugazi is being played in the van.
11:00 AM: We arrive at a Motel 6 in Georgia. This Motel 6 is used for the some golf tournament thing so it normally costs around $40. However, if we were here during one of the first few weeks in April it would be $200 A NIGHT. TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS. And let me tell you, it would be worth every penny. Nicest Motel 6 I've ever been to. MICROWAVE. INTERNET. HUGE ROOMS. DVD PLAYER. COMPUTER WITH A "G" BUTTON THAT STICKS OCCASIONALLY. JACUZZI. POOL. THE DOORS ARE ON THE INSIDE. I don't know where they get off calling this a Motel 6, but fuck it, it is awesome. We watched the Fugazi DVD and fell asleep as Sean and Dave went to Walmart to buy some cheap food that we could cook in the microwave. I woke up and masturbated in the shower. Now Sean knows.
---VAN JAMS---
TOXIC by Britney Spears
GIRL O'CLOCK by Dismemberment Plan
DOCTOR WORM by They Might Be Giants
5 TIMES OUT OF 100 by Hot Hot Heat
if you listen to these songs, it'll be like you're on tour WITH US. except you're not. You're in your fucking miserable lame house.
P.S. it was twenty degrees this morning in North Carolina. W! T! F!
I woke up in the morning to the delicious smell of Morningstar fake sausage links. Jenna's family gave a 5 million course breakfast which included coffee (!), homemade waffles (!!) and REAL maple syrup (!!!) to name a few things. After a while, we knew we had to head out. Today was the huge drive to Virginia Beach.
I took on the drive because I like driving. Turns out however, there was TERRIBLE traffic on the 95 in Jersey. When I say terrible, I mean a two and a half hour almost stand-still. For the first time ever I saw those advisory lights blinking on the side of the road DEMANDING we tune to 1610 AM and receive the traffic report. Of course I assumed that they are always blinking until JT said "I've never seen those things flash in my entire life! Turn to 1610! Turn off the iPod!" They suggested that we take 195 West to 295 South to the Delaware Memorial Bridge. The fact that they were broadcasting about exactly what road we were on made me extremely excited to take the detour. So excited that I am actually typing about this detour over 24 hours later. This is what I remember about our trip.
We made our rounds down the east coast. The most important stop as usual was the tobacco outlet right after the bridge in Delaware. Smokers: It is worth the trip to Delaware if you go here. Two cartons of Marlboro Blend No. 27 cost $24. That's about $1.20 per pack. Now that our van was filled with the nicotine we needed for the tour it was time to rush rush rush to the show, because we had to be there at 7:00 (!!) and it was already 3 or 4:00 (!!) and we had a long drive to go (!!not enought time!!) We stopped off to get gas somewhere in Virginia and everything was nice and cheap. I saw a pornography advertisement that said "WHAT WOULD YOU DO WITH THREE EXTRA INCHES?" The picture was a woman wearing obviously too much makeup and looked like she was in her mid-40's and had been beaten by her husband about three minutes prior to snapshot time trying to cram a large penis into her mouth. Hot. Mike and Sean ordered sandwiches and apparently had to fill out online surveys to get said sandwiches. Forty five minutes later, we were forty five more minutes late to the show.
I sped as fast as I could, imagining that one of the speed-limit enforcing aircrafts would fly down in the middle of the 18 miles bridge connected one part of Virginia to Virginia Beach and stop all lanes of traffic to give me a California-style $800 speeding ticket. When we finally got to the show (traffic violation free), Dave informed me that he really didn't know what time the show ACTUALLY started, but 7:00 was a guess. We were kind of early. Thanks a lot Dave.
The show went awesomely. Sean played bass for the first time ever and I had to play guitar. That was kind of interesting because I don't know how to play the guitar really and Sean doesn't know how to play the bass really. What's more interesting is that Dave doesn't really know how to play the bass and JT doesn't know how to play the guitar, but they were pitching in on those instruments as well. Lots of people sitting at tables who I made fun of. Succeeding the show, those people bought me pitchers upon pitchers of beers and smokes because they wanted to prove that they weren't jerks. SCORE. The donation jar to fly Bove down to New Orleans to meet us went pretty well, and I think I stole a pitcher from the place, so if anyone from The Jewish Mother ever reads this, feel free to come up to Long Island and visit me and I'll give you said pitcher. The bands we played with (Bum Ruckus, Murphy's Kids and Jackmove) were all FUCKING GREAT. They are all awesome bands, it's definitely downhill from here probably because we've played with too many great ska bands at this point. KIDS: SKA EXISTS. LONG ISLAND IS FUCKING WITH YOU. Drunkenly, Eddie (bum ruckus), John (murphy's kids) and I decided to book a national tour in May with the three of our bands... an independent ska tour if you will. If that was just drunken banter, this will the last you will hear of it. If not, just you wait. I can't say the name of this tour because it is very offensive. Period. Don't ask. We'll change it. When I get back from tour I will scan the bar napkin in which I drew a map of America and the spots we plan to hit. On the map words like "Florida", "Jeremy", and "Do This When You Are Sober" are written sporadically as well as area codes for some reason.
We were going to stay at one of Jackmove's places (Sean Patrick & Melissa) except we had gotten a show today in Augusta. Oh yeah, the second that we showed up to the venue Eddie from Bum Ruckus hooked us up with 3 shows. Pretty much immediately. That's how you book a tour kids. As you go along. It was a 10 hour drive to Augusta so we couldn't stay over (fuck.) and we couldn't try and take advantage of drunk females (fuck. fuck.) and most importantly we would not be guaranteed (sic?) breakfast in the morning (fuckfuckfuckgoddammit.)
3:00 AM: Dave drives us to a gas station as we all call our close good friends trying to find out if one of them can Mapquest Virginia Beach to Augusta, Georgia.
4:00 AM: JT switches over to drive. I sit shotgun. We go until about 6:40 when we see a Motel 6 in Fayetteville, NC. Awesome. Sleep. No. No. NO.
ME: Do you have any vacancies?
MOTEL 6 AWFUL PERSON: No.
ME: I didn't see that many cars in the parking lot. You sure you don't have anything?
M6AP: No. And there's nothing in this town.
ME: What about...
M6AP: No.
ME: any other...
M6AP: No.
ME: motels nearby?
M6AP: No. They're all booked. Everyone came in tonight.
ME: Why?
M6AP: (walks away)
ME: Hey.
ME: (five minutes later) HEY! Can I have a Motel 6 directory.
M6AP: They are all booked up in North Carolina along I-95.
ME: Do you...
M6AP: No.
ME: (punches woman in the face)
7:00 AM: We wake Sean up because JT can't stay awake anymore. He was less than thrilled. He is sitting here watching me type this. I would usually say something like "he was a fuckin' pussy, fuckin' pussy can't fuckin' wake fuckin' up in the fuckin' morning." He thought that was funny. He's nodding. We walked into McDonalds with hair disheveled (sic?). Dave followed us in there and put both of our hair to shame. There was no McGriddle Value Meal posted on the big menu, but they had them. Thank god. You kids need to eat these. We agreed that Dave and Sean would take the drive all the way to Georgia so we had a motel for TWO nights. JT had already taken a bench to sleep on, I tried to cram into the floor while choking down my undigested McGriddle for about 2 hours.
9:00 AM: I eventually coerced Mike, whose suitcase had falled on top of him while he was sleeping and he looked like he was snuggling with it, to switch spots with me. Of course I sleep the only time Fugazi is being played in the van.
11:00 AM: We arrive at a Motel 6 in Georgia. This Motel 6 is used for the some golf tournament thing so it normally costs around $40. However, if we were here during one of the first few weeks in April it would be $200 A NIGHT. TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS. And let me tell you, it would be worth every penny. Nicest Motel 6 I've ever been to. MICROWAVE. INTERNET. HUGE ROOMS. DVD PLAYER. COMPUTER WITH A "G" BUTTON THAT STICKS OCCASIONALLY. JACUZZI. POOL. THE DOORS ARE ON THE INSIDE. I don't know where they get off calling this a Motel 6, but fuck it, it is awesome. We watched the Fugazi DVD and fell asleep as Sean and Dave went to Walmart to buy some cheap food that we could cook in the microwave. I woke up and masturbated in the shower. Now Sean knows.
---VAN JAMS---
TOXIC by Britney Spears
GIRL O'CLOCK by Dismemberment Plan
DOCTOR WORM by They Might Be Giants
5 TIMES OUT OF 100 by Hot Hot Heat
if you listen to these songs, it'll be like you're on tour WITH US. except you're not. You're in your fucking miserable lame house.
P.S. it was twenty degrees this morning in North Carolina. W! T! F!
12.27.2003
New Jersey
MATH PROBLEM ATTACK:
Q: How does one fit the following in the back of a van without spilling over into the seats so the whole band can travel comfortably. Note: YOU DO NOT HAVE A TRAILER
2 4 x 12 guitar cabinets
1 Marshall Head
1 Fender Head
1 SKB Bass Head
1 4 x 10 Bass Cabinet
1 15" Woofer Cabinet
1 Kick Drum
1 Floor Tom
2 Rack Toms
1 Snare Drum
1 100 pound bag of hardware
7 Cymbals
4 electric guitars
1 bass guitar
1 acoustic guitar
1 glockenspiel
1 saxophone
1 trombone
1 large merch bin
2 medium sized merch bins
1 small merch bin
5 suitcases
5 carry-on bags
4 cord bags
1 guitar rack
1 keyboard
1 keyboard stand
1 saxophone stand
A: Be Dave Dickerman
We loaded up our van today and the guys in Westbound Train looked at us with grimaces, stating "fuck. I'm gonna go hang out in the couch that's in the back of our van. Get a trailer." Flash back to earlier in the day when it took me a record two hours to do a house-wide idiot check to find later on the road that the only thing I forgot were earplugs and Sheldon's dismemberment plan CD. Sheldon came into the van and was all of a sudden sponsored by Marlboro cigarettes, sporting their bag, sleeping bag, calling card and special Marlboro brand Camel cigarettes. When I went into JT's house he was eating a bowl of pasta and just saying "Fuck it. Let's just go. I don't need anything else. Forget it. Forget it." Mike and Bove travelled separately, but I imagine they also did things earlier in the day. We had a heartwarming and upsetting goodbye to Bove for the next couple of days on tour because he is still sick (we love you and miss you Bove) and a much calmer goodbye to Sean McCabe who is going home because he sucks. Members of the band have been claiming that I am coming down with a case of pink eye on the first day of the tour. We also made the mistake of driving through the EZ Pass lane when the cash lane shut down today while driving into Jersey. Oh crap.
But fuck all that shit, or F all that S as the kids who abbreviate Arrogant Sons of Bitches so as not to swear would say. Today was the best tour kick-off I could have possibly imagined. All the nerves are totally gone and I am very much looking forward to starving for the next month while playing rock shows to four people. Tonight was the exception. There were tons of kids there to support us, and it was a great feeling to know that you're leaving your area with love.
Speaking of love, a few friends of ours threw us a little surprise party at our merch table. There were donuts (!), cake (!!) and PICKLES (!!!) to be eaten by all not to mention nachos, salsa and other snacks and water. Soon enough we were no longer selling merchandise but we were having a feast over our mailing list, giving people the stink eye when they requested to buy something, non-verbally exclaiming "you fuckers! this is our last chance to eat! let us enjoy it!". This was just a normal Jersey show which was a lot of fun but pretty strange because it is the beginning of so much weirdness that will soon happen. When Dave pulled up to my house this afternoon blasting Neil Diamond, I already began to know that this trip is going to be very interesting.
Nothing too crazy tonight though. Our tetris-style van packing job will hopefully hold out... Sheldon (new guitar, new name) should have brought some more clothes with him but I'm sure he'll realize that soon. Tonight was a great normal time and we are about to eat some eggplant upstairs at our friend's place, so I'm going to go enjoy my last supper. As always, stay in touch with us, via the message board and through our emails (i am jeff@asobrock.com). My ass isn't bleeding yet, but we've got plenty of time. Tomorrow is our huge drive to Virginia which I just found out today is a huge drive.
Thank you all our friends who are helping us out: Jenna, Liz, Jessica and Ami for being so awesome and sending us on the road with food in our stomach and a nice place to stay. Let's hope food stays there and we wake up tomorrow! P.S. I tried a new SALAD DRESSING TONIGHT!
MATH PROBLEM ATTACK:
Q: How does one fit the following in the back of a van without spilling over into the seats so the whole band can travel comfortably. Note: YOU DO NOT HAVE A TRAILER
2 4 x 12 guitar cabinets
1 Marshall Head
1 Fender Head
1 SKB Bass Head
1 4 x 10 Bass Cabinet
1 15" Woofer Cabinet
1 Kick Drum
1 Floor Tom
2 Rack Toms
1 Snare Drum
1 100 pound bag of hardware
7 Cymbals
4 electric guitars
1 bass guitar
1 acoustic guitar
1 glockenspiel
1 saxophone
1 trombone
1 large merch bin
2 medium sized merch bins
1 small merch bin
5 suitcases
5 carry-on bags
4 cord bags
1 guitar rack
1 keyboard
1 keyboard stand
1 saxophone stand
A: Be Dave Dickerman
We loaded up our van today and the guys in Westbound Train looked at us with grimaces, stating "fuck. I'm gonna go hang out in the couch that's in the back of our van. Get a trailer." Flash back to earlier in the day when it took me a record two hours to do a house-wide idiot check to find later on the road that the only thing I forgot were earplugs and Sheldon's dismemberment plan CD. Sheldon came into the van and was all of a sudden sponsored by Marlboro cigarettes, sporting their bag, sleeping bag, calling card and special Marlboro brand Camel cigarettes. When I went into JT's house he was eating a bowl of pasta and just saying "Fuck it. Let's just go. I don't need anything else. Forget it. Forget it." Mike and Bove travelled separately, but I imagine they also did things earlier in the day. We had a heartwarming and upsetting goodbye to Bove for the next couple of days on tour because he is still sick (we love you and miss you Bove) and a much calmer goodbye to Sean McCabe who is going home because he sucks. Members of the band have been claiming that I am coming down with a case of pink eye on the first day of the tour. We also made the mistake of driving through the EZ Pass lane when the cash lane shut down today while driving into Jersey. Oh crap.
But fuck all that shit, or F all that S as the kids who abbreviate Arrogant Sons of Bitches so as not to swear would say. Today was the best tour kick-off I could have possibly imagined. All the nerves are totally gone and I am very much looking forward to starving for the next month while playing rock shows to four people. Tonight was the exception. There were tons of kids there to support us, and it was a great feeling to know that you're leaving your area with love.
Speaking of love, a few friends of ours threw us a little surprise party at our merch table. There were donuts (!), cake (!!) and PICKLES (!!!) to be eaten by all not to mention nachos, salsa and other snacks and water. Soon enough we were no longer selling merchandise but we were having a feast over our mailing list, giving people the stink eye when they requested to buy something, non-verbally exclaiming "you fuckers! this is our last chance to eat! let us enjoy it!". This was just a normal Jersey show which was a lot of fun but pretty strange because it is the beginning of so much weirdness that will soon happen. When Dave pulled up to my house this afternoon blasting Neil Diamond, I already began to know that this trip is going to be very interesting.
Nothing too crazy tonight though. Our tetris-style van packing job will hopefully hold out... Sheldon (new guitar, new name) should have brought some more clothes with him but I'm sure he'll realize that soon. Tonight was a great normal time and we are about to eat some eggplant upstairs at our friend's place, so I'm going to go enjoy my last supper. As always, stay in touch with us, via the message board and through our emails (i am jeff@asobrock.com). My ass isn't bleeding yet, but we've got plenty of time. Tomorrow is our huge drive to Virginia which I just found out today is a huge drive.
Thank you all our friends who are helping us out: Jenna, Liz, Jessica and Ami for being so awesome and sending us on the road with food in our stomach and a nice place to stay. Let's hope food stays there and we wake up tomorrow! P.S. I tried a new SALAD DRESSING TONIGHT!
12.26.2003
Long Island
I have been pacing back and forth and up and down stairs for about ten hours in my house now. We won't have a computer in our van but I will try and find kind people who can let me steal their computer so I can keep this up this time.
Pacing back and forth.
Leaving for a month.
Don't know what I am going to eat for that month.
Don't really know where I'm going for that month.
I've got my afro-sheen.
I've got my Dr. Scholls products.
I've got lots of Vitamin C.
and enough socks and underwear to clothe a small army.
Nothing left to do now, but just leave. This is the weirdest part of tour. It's kind of the line going onto the rollercoaster. There's still time to back out if you're a pussy, but you know that it's going to be fun as shit. Except this is going to last a lot longer and I'm sure more people will die.
Long Island. This is it. See ya in January.
I have been pacing back and forth and up and down stairs for about ten hours in my house now. We won't have a computer in our van but I will try and find kind people who can let me steal their computer so I can keep this up this time.
Pacing back and forth.
Leaving for a month.
Don't know what I am going to eat for that month.
Don't really know where I'm going for that month.
I've got my afro-sheen.
I've got my Dr. Scholls products.
I've got lots of Vitamin C.
and enough socks and underwear to clothe a small army.
Nothing left to do now, but just leave. This is the weirdest part of tour. It's kind of the line going onto the rollercoaster. There's still time to back out if you're a pussy, but you know that it's going to be fun as shit. Except this is going to last a lot longer and I'm sure more people will die.
Long Island. This is it. See ya in January.
11.23.2003
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.
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.
11.22.2003
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.
7.16.2003
TOUR 2 GO GO GO!
Let me tell you what isn’t going to be interesting: reading this tour diary entry. We have been driving for about 18 hours and we should be driving for 14 more after this. Reading about someone driving is not very interesting.
So let’s start out with leaving for tour. Let’s start out with VAN CALL. Van call today was at 10:00 so we could leave around 10:00/11:00… Math and I ran around all day to try and get our van and trailer all set, and the people at U-Haul were really cool. Anyway… van call was 10:00… apparently not everyone knew that, but that is cool because we called everyone up earlier on in the day and let them know. We left for tour at about 2:30 and got off of Long Island at about 3:30 AM.
Then it came time to drive. I just started typing shit out and I realized how fucking boring it is to read who’s been driving where. Here’s some things that happened.
- I drove for almost eleven hours while everyone was sleeping. Joe stayed up for two hours.
- I got yet another Waffle House name tag. It was from Theresa. She was a lot nicer than Cierra.
That’s like… That’s about it. We’re still driving. Right now we’re in Tennessee. Maybe one of these days I’ll have something more interesting to say. Well, at least here’s a list of states that we’ve been in.
New york
New jersey
Connecticut
Pennsylvania
New Hampshire
Maine
Maryland
Delaware
Virginia
West Virginia
North Carolina
South Carolina
Georgia
Alabama
Florida
Mississippi
Louisiana
Texas
New mexico
Arizona
California
Nevada
Idaho
Montana
Wyoming
Utah
Colorado
Kansas
Missouri
Ohio
Indiana
Illinois
Kentucky
Minnesota
Wisconsin
Tennessee
YEAH!
Let me tell you what isn’t going to be interesting: reading this tour diary entry. We have been driving for about 18 hours and we should be driving for 14 more after this. Reading about someone driving is not very interesting.
So let’s start out with leaving for tour. Let’s start out with VAN CALL. Van call today was at 10:00 so we could leave around 10:00/11:00… Math and I ran around all day to try and get our van and trailer all set, and the people at U-Haul were really cool. Anyway… van call was 10:00… apparently not everyone knew that, but that is cool because we called everyone up earlier on in the day and let them know. We left for tour at about 2:30 and got off of Long Island at about 3:30 AM.
Then it came time to drive. I just started typing shit out and I realized how fucking boring it is to read who’s been driving where. Here’s some things that happened.
- I drove for almost eleven hours while everyone was sleeping. Joe stayed up for two hours.
- I got yet another Waffle House name tag. It was from Theresa. She was a lot nicer than Cierra.
That’s like… That’s about it. We’re still driving. Right now we’re in Tennessee. Maybe one of these days I’ll have something more interesting to say. Well, at least here’s a list of states that we’ve been in.
New york
New jersey
Connecticut
Pennsylvania
New Hampshire
Maine
Maryland
Delaware
Virginia
West Virginia
North Carolina
South Carolina
Georgia
Alabama
Florida
Mississippi
Louisiana
Texas
New mexico
Arizona
California
Nevada
Idaho
Montana
Wyoming
Utah
Colorado
Kansas
Missouri
Ohio
Indiana
Illinois
Kentucky
Minnesota
Wisconsin
Tennessee
YEAH!
7.02.2003
Akron-ish, Ohio
one more entry.
type it all out just one more time.
you're almost at the finish line buddy.
take one more sip of powerade and just go for it.
we woke up fashionably late and showered for an uncharacteristically short amount of time before we got out of the hotel to get some food. Saw Letterkills in the parking lot last night and as of right now I already miss the nice friends we made on the Warped Tour and hope they will still make out with us when we join back up again.
we had the breakfast of a lifetime. the omlettes were the size of giant omlettes. most importantly, jt got the ball rolling at breakfast by admitting how many cigarettes (packs, singles, et cetera) he stole from the rest of us. other secrets continued to get revealed, such as the whereabouts of dave's all american rejects cd (bove threw it out the window, even though i could swear i saw jt do it) and who broke what, who fucked who, yadda yadda yadda, we paid the check and got the fuck on the fucking road.
i drove like a champ. we would get there almost on time if i drove over 72 the whole way which is a piece of cake... we'd get there at 8:30, 9, get on, play and celebrate over our last show of the first leg of tour. we had the cigars and everything. too bad we all forgot to account for the time zone change from chicago to akron. bummer. eventually i got us from some rest stop 2 and a half hours away from akron to akron in and hour and 45 minutes.
it didn't matter. the bands had already played when we were about 30 minutes away in traffic. we tried our hardest and there were still some kids there when we went on. ready for our last show, we did what any professional band with good intentions and work ethic would do. We totally SUCKED. not on purpose sucked... we played, and it was terrible. it brought a smile to my face that our odd tour of headlining our first show for 400+ kids on a weeknight, two weeks on the warped tour and higher than expected CD sales could end brightly on the note resonated by the shows that got cancelled on us. by the shows that were bar shows that no one showed up to. by what felt like 5 days off in florida and california. by the parking lot shows. this show represented our start, where everything didn't exactly go right, but we had fun anyway. it checked us away from that bitchy primadonna "if its not for 1,000 kids its not worth it" mentality and said "hey, you still play for the kids, not the fucking festivals." i enjoyed it.
more stuff? ok, but this is it for a while...
- lady at the taco bell was a total bitch.
- someone threw the handtruck on top of math's head.
- hung out with jess (promoter) and her friends and scared them with our stories of the subway booth.
- evil fog as i drove home lasted for about 150 miles.
- an opaque windshield.
- waking up to jt throwing up violently outside of the van.
i finally woke up again to jt saying "hey, no one else can drive, its your turn." i said "fuck you" and went back to sleep. he then played trumpet in my ear, i woke up and saw that i was at my house. wow. we fucking made it. and i had a pool now. as we were loading out, proving that nothing changes, dave bitched about his shoe being missing for about 90 minutes and bove bitched about no one wanting to drive him home for about 89 minutes. i ran into my house to take care of post-tour work that i have yet to take care of.
that's it.
read this entire thing. enjoy it. check out the names that i dropped, because they're all incredibly nice helpful bands/people/organizations.
and that's that.
one more entry.
type it all out just one more time.
you're almost at the finish line buddy.
take one more sip of powerade and just go for it.
we woke up fashionably late and showered for an uncharacteristically short amount of time before we got out of the hotel to get some food. Saw Letterkills in the parking lot last night and as of right now I already miss the nice friends we made on the Warped Tour and hope they will still make out with us when we join back up again.
we had the breakfast of a lifetime. the omlettes were the size of giant omlettes. most importantly, jt got the ball rolling at breakfast by admitting how many cigarettes (packs, singles, et cetera) he stole from the rest of us. other secrets continued to get revealed, such as the whereabouts of dave's all american rejects cd (bove threw it out the window, even though i could swear i saw jt do it) and who broke what, who fucked who, yadda yadda yadda, we paid the check and got the fuck on the fucking road.
i drove like a champ. we would get there almost on time if i drove over 72 the whole way which is a piece of cake... we'd get there at 8:30, 9, get on, play and celebrate over our last show of the first leg of tour. we had the cigars and everything. too bad we all forgot to account for the time zone change from chicago to akron. bummer. eventually i got us from some rest stop 2 and a half hours away from akron to akron in and hour and 45 minutes.
it didn't matter. the bands had already played when we were about 30 minutes away in traffic. we tried our hardest and there were still some kids there when we went on. ready for our last show, we did what any professional band with good intentions and work ethic would do. We totally SUCKED. not on purpose sucked... we played, and it was terrible. it brought a smile to my face that our odd tour of headlining our first show for 400+ kids on a weeknight, two weeks on the warped tour and higher than expected CD sales could end brightly on the note resonated by the shows that got cancelled on us. by the shows that were bar shows that no one showed up to. by what felt like 5 days off in florida and california. by the parking lot shows. this show represented our start, where everything didn't exactly go right, but we had fun anyway. it checked us away from that bitchy primadonna "if its not for 1,000 kids its not worth it" mentality and said "hey, you still play for the kids, not the fucking festivals." i enjoyed it.
more stuff? ok, but this is it for a while...
- lady at the taco bell was a total bitch.
- someone threw the handtruck on top of math's head.
- hung out with jess (promoter) and her friends and scared them with our stories of the subway booth.
- evil fog as i drove home lasted for about 150 miles.
- an opaque windshield.
- waking up to jt throwing up violently outside of the van.
i finally woke up again to jt saying "hey, no one else can drive, its your turn." i said "fuck you" and went back to sleep. he then played trumpet in my ear, i woke up and saw that i was at my house. wow. we fucking made it. and i had a pool now. as we were loading out, proving that nothing changes, dave bitched about his shoe being missing for about 90 minutes and bove bitched about no one wanting to drive him home for about 89 minutes. i ran into my house to take care of post-tour work that i have yet to take care of.
that's it.
read this entire thing. enjoy it. check out the names that i dropped, because they're all incredibly nice helpful bands/people/organizations.
and that's that.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)