archives

written upon landing at logan airport april 9th, and wandering aimlessly in and out of coffee nooks in providence, rhode island the next morning:

There are two possible ways to prepare for a tour, no matter how big or how small.
There's the right way, which involves everything being taken care of well ahead of time. This would include, but not be limited to:
all shows being booked
all records pressed far in advance
all your shit being straight.
This is, by all means, the right way.
Then, of course, there is the other way. My way.
Take the list I have given above, and basically reverse all of them or put the words "don't have" at the beginning of each item.
My way, while not as efficient, is much more exciting. When everything is taken care of, you don't get that same feeling of panic and anxiety that I have christened as the "days before" syndrome.
I'd like to consider myself an authority on the "days before" syndrome being as there has not been one tour, whether it be six days or six weeks, that I have not become an insomniac leading up to.
It's quite impressive now that I think back on it.
Yeah, definitely an authority.
As a small back story that can be considered further documentation of how I like to make things more difficult, two months ago I packed up my belongings and moved four thousand miles away from my band.
Why?
Well, why not?
Isn't the feeling of execution a tad bit sweeter when you have to overcome a certain level of logistics?
Yeah.....I think so, too.
So, I live in Seattle, Washington. The rest of the members live in or around New Hampshire. I moved almost as far away as possible within the confines of these here states. Before flying back for this tour, I have spent the last three days, with the help of a friend, screenprinting 250 LP covers. I also made buttons with the image of a vicious, eight pound chihuahua who goes by the name "boris".
And, I've tried to book the shows that aren't booked. When you get in panic mode, as anyone who books a tour will tell you, you will take anything. Since the last show has still not been booked, I am offcially in panic mode and will be accepting the first offer made. This usually makes the person booking the tour feel better, but leaves the rest of the band with that sort-of "I hope you know what you're doing" expression on their collective faces.
Upon completeing the printing of said LP covers, I had to decide whether or not I trusted the united states postal service to deliver the items on time. I, being of the trust no one approach, came to the realization that in no way am I willing to rely on a delivery service to make sure things go according to plan. So, instead of packing clothes and numerous personal items for the stretch in the van I forfeited personal stimulants in favor of bringing the covers as my luggage. As I'm becoming more and more obsessed with minimalism, this seems to be something I knew I would do all along. My luggage consisted of paper, five pairs of both socks and underwear, and two shirts. I used my man-purse to carry on my laptop and a book, and that was it.
Quite impressive.
If only superficial self sacrifice in some way gave you better seats on a plane, I would have been more than well off. Instead, especially when you buy whatever random cheap tickets you can find, you end up nestled snug inbetween two bitter rocks from hell. In this case, those rocks were a repulsed older woman who might as well have been told her first born was murdered the moment I said to her, "I think this is my seat", and a couple so in love sitting next to me that felt it was thier duty to eat each others faces for the entire duration of the five hour flight, that my head seemed moist from the amount of saliva being leaked from the sides of each of thier mouths. There's not much worse than messy public-display-of-affection engineers.
You tend to be willing to eat whatever bagged snack they throw at you as if it was the very item your taste palate had been craving. Graham crackers? Hell yeah! Dry roasted peanuts? Of course! You lose every good judgement you have the moment free food and drink is offered. Repeatedly, I will get my diet carbonated beverage, poured delicately into a plastic glass filled to the brim with ice, and repeatedly I nurse my little beverage until the last half hour off the flight where it has become watered down and brutally cold. You can't throw away a full cup of liquid on a plane...it's, from what I've gathered, an unwritten moral rule as to not create a mess for those working. Instead, while the stewardess walks towards me in slow motion (for good measure, play the terminator 2 theme while picturing all of this) I down the waterlogged ice cold soda as to prove to her and my surrounding passengers that I, too, understand the plight of the working plane girl and would like nothing more than to make her every day duties proceed as smooth and without roadblockery as possible. In doing this, I have sacrificed a comfortable stomach and have given myself the worst fucking freeze brain imaginable. I feel like a stroke victim and fall back in my tiny uncushioned seat, prepared for my left eye to slowly burst out of the socket.
The plane lands, freezebrain slowly creeps out of my immediate area, and all is well in logan international airport at eleven forty-five pm.
Now, if I can just find some soy creamer and an open coffee shop.
We're talking about insomnia here.....why bother to stop drinking the magic potion just because it's nightfall? No matter what I do or don't do, I know i'm not falling asleep. Pretty much ever again.
So, coffee it is.