|Prom night in the basement of a frat-house-turned-dorm-room, waiting to eat spaghetti, waiting to play a show in the Coughy Haus before we move on to Madison before we move on to real life in Chicago. We played here in 1992, when we were thrilled to make $250 and be fed pizza... the last few times we've been a little bewildered by the response from the drunken horny frat & sorority crowd that frequents the place, but the pay is good, the kids are nice, so what the hell, we come back for more.
The Missoula show was fine enough. We were all stunned by the amount of boozing among the young Missoulians -- they don't drink to have a good time, they don't drink to relaxe, they drink to get fucked up, which they can do with the best of 'em. Certainly better than I. After the show I tried to break up a fight between a scrawny kid with a baseball bat & a drunken riot grrl, failing miserably & making a fool of myself. But I just had to do something -- no one says "lick my ass, bitch" to a stumbling-drunk feminist and gets away with it when I'm in earshot.
The gal I was dying to see in town met some guy in January, & he's already met her folks, so I just can't catch up. But don't you worry 'bout me, I'm nothing if not resilient.
The drive to Minneapolis was miserable. The rain was crashing into us from the North on a 40 mph wind -- the van was sloped at a 30 degree angle for a day and a half, it drove me crazy... oh but we stayed in the cutest little grandma's hotel in South Dakota, it was just fine. Though I couldn't sleep well -- I've got to get used to sleeping with little Andy again.
Last night was our most pleasant, & best sounding, Minneapolis show to date -- thanks I'm sure to James our soundman. I bummed a smoke from a girl who said, "you guys rock, and I'm from Seattle, so I know what rocks." I spit in her face and put my cigarette out in her drink. Todd Trainer was there with his pal Chris, who used to sing for RifleSport but now drinks a fantastic amount and makes robotic puppets for Walt Disney. Todd was quiet: "I'm tired, I've worked all week, and I've been listening to Chris for 45 minutes." Jesus it was indeed exhausting to talk to (be talked to by) Chris, but entertaining enough -- at least he wasn't a miserable & bratty drunk like the Missoula kids.
Drove an hour or so & stayed in a nice place near a K-mart. Woke in the middle of the night with Andy "spooning" me from behind, rubbing against me & calling his girlfriend's name... I gave him a sharp elbow in the gut. He said, "Mikey? is that you?" I said it was, and he faded back to sleep, mumbling apologies. He recalled nothing in the morning, & will of course deny the whole story.
Had an enormous biscuits-&-gravy laden breakfast today, so let me tell you I'm ready to explode for these college kids.
I'm adapting to life on the road easier than in the past. I've had a long enough break that it actually feels a little like a vacation, which touring hasn't felt like in years. Hallelujah!
Okay, gotta go, my spaghetti's getting cold.
Back to the list