Schio, Italy, Centro stabile di Cultura
Biznono did not make the trip. This is the first and biggest news; we're touring Italy as a three-piece. I was thinking yesterday about Biznono, as we're all missing him on this trip, and I though: he's the kind of person who seems to always like the aspects of others that others like, as well; and so he brings out the best in others. Isn't that a nice quality?

Fucking Italian keyboard! Driving me crazy! So: writing this afternoon from Venice, a bizarre city with all canals and no cars, and every building and every view is of nothing but beauty and history and perfect decay, and all this perfection and beauty reflected in these beautiful canals. It's almost hard to relax here, there's so much beauty. But I can handle it for a day, and what promises to be a late Saturday night. Saturday night off in Venice, you know? It's not so bad.

Last night, the first night of the tour, was in Schio. We flew from Chicago to Brussels, Brussels to Rome, then drove many hours from Rome to Schio, arriving at 10:00 last night. We ate quickly, rotini pasta and salad, and fantastic wine which went down like juice but tasted much better, and we played. There were not many people there, and those that were there were not so excited to be there, and I was ... well, I blame it on the jetlag, but I could hardly play my drums. The hard parts and the easy parts, I was useless. There's a break in Plain that's nothing but tap-tap-tap on the high-hat, I couldn't even play that, I was wrecked. Still it was fun, a good enough start; I met a pretty and very sober girl, and a strange man, and witnessed some of the most absurd interactions between these crazy Italian people, people claiming to be "insurance brokers" and for that reason getting in almost-fights with those they call their friends. It was so much to swallow, and meanwhile I'm trying to hold the attention of this very sweet girl, and trying to avoid the steely, drunken gaze of this strange, well-dressed man who seems intent on grasping my wrist every time he speaks.... Crazy. Stayed in the same lovely hotel with the lovely yellow church and red apartment across the quiet narrow street. I'm telling you, for a quiet night, it was a good start.

So now, Venice. Looking for Mick Jagger. Tomorrow, Gorizia, then onto Zagreb. Everything so far is golden. This afternoon I had a Moretti Rosso beer, well I had two, and they were both delicious. I'm going to wander off now and find a pastry, then go to meet the others in front of the big tower at Piazza San Marco. There's more to write, maybe I'll remember to write it later but I doubt it.

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