Philadelphia, Khyber Pass
Sitting in the kitchen at Marc and Kristen's, listening to the cat pee loudly in the litter box. We just got in to Queens from Philadelphia -- a late late night, I think it's about 5:00 by now or maybe later.

We've played Philadelphia, or "Philly," do you mind if I call it "Philly?" We've played there many times and each time the shows stunk pretty badly. Now, I don't know if it's because we're being propped up by Dianogah, which may well be; but the shows so far seem to be moving along pretty well. Both Cleveland and "Philly" have always been miserable, and this trip they were both successful. It's beyond me man it really is.

Anyhow, we played the Khyber Pass and I tried some fine tequila -- "Patron" -- and some excellent beer they had on tap, and it got me all fired up and I was so upset with Vicky for saying I never made an effort that I yammered away at all sorts of attractive gals all night long, resulting in little more than a mildly painful walk to the car for me but I did put Vicky in her place. It's sort of a dream of mine to get lucky someday, I don't know if you've noticed that but it's true.

The Dianogahs took us out for sushi tonight. Can you believe that? It was way too expensive. Very very nice of them.

The opening band, named after some sort of fisherman's lure says Tim, was good. They had an indie guitar-rock sound that was somehow charming. I think all the gals I was yelling at ran off with them when they finished their set, but honestly I was far too drunk to know for sure. Those Philleans think they can drink but oh I showed them a thing or two. Then I jumped in the mini-van and punched it all the way to Queens, singing Yiddish folk songs and pounding the steering wheel with my head while Tim, Vicky, James and Andy cowered in the back seat, whimpering.

Okay I'm tired enough.

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