Legendary Gainesville rock maven,
and former Jeff Mensch roommate
John Harris
3/2 - I'm at a copy shop in Gainesville, FL. Last night was by far the worst night of the tour (except maybe Philly), not that we necessarily played bad, but it was a prototypically tight show by a touring rock band in front of an apathetic audience that would've much rather been listening to generic new-punk that came on after us. If i go into much more detail, i'll just get depressed. Ex-Pop-Up Video intern and UF student Jason Finkleman showed up last night, thank god, and brought a friend in tow, and they enjoyed themselves. If he's let down that Rachel is no longer in the band, he sure didn't show it. It's warm and rainy out right now, and i have no idea what our next move is going to be. Crap, i was actually at a kegger last night. It was about 4 in the morning, the guy/girl ratio was about 10 to 1, and the weirdest mix tape was playing in the background. I distincly remember hearing a Billy Ocean song at one point. It was just like going to Otis' house every weekend when i lived in Denver, only without the excuse of youthful indescretion. A punk guy probably older than me took me to his car to show me the Sid Vicious snow-globe he just bought. I exchanged about 2 minutes worth of "Young Ones" quotes with the local tattoo girl, and had a pretentious but surprisingly philisophical discussion with a pudgy, insecure, cruicifix-wearing "singer/songwriter." Then we drove the 2 blocks back to John's house and i crashed on his couch.
We have no idea what we're doing today.
John also entertained us by reading aloud the band bio from our press kit.
Being in small towns outside of NYC is very intoxicating in a way, especially if you have hosts. You always get the very best a town has to offer in the first day or two you are there. It seems fun to have great BBQ in your neighboorhood, be close to your neighbors, know the local eccentrics, be in with the local punk crowd, etc. But i couldn't imagine spending more than 2 days here. I'd go mad. It's only because we've spent each day in a different town that i don't miss NYC more than i do.
3/3: I bought a postcard last night, from someplace in Georgia. It had a peanut on it. When i'm done with this, i'm going to fill it out and send it to Robin. We're listening to the Beatles again - The White Album - and as much as i hate the Beatles, i realize i'd rather put up with their most self-indulgent crap, like The White Album, than any Led Zeppelin. Still. Of course, we also listened to Men At Work yesterday, and that was truly awful. Man, i used to love that crap when i was in junior high school, too.
I drove last night, through some pretty torrential rain. I was listening to the Johnny Cash CD i just bought, and every song seemed to remind me that i was driving through a torrential rainstorm and that we all could die at any second. "The Wreck of the Old 97", "Rock Island Line" and the like. It was pretty intense. No one said a thing for about an hour.
After that, i really checked out, napping in the back of the van for about 3 hours. We stopped for gas somewhere in S. Carloina around 1:30 am, and in a daze, i got up and walked into the store, with no purpose really. I was absolutely delirious. I can't remember anything i said. James laughed and said i looked like a "drugged gorilla." Afterward, we hopped back in with the intent of making it to N. Carolina, but the van started acting up, dying everytime you took your foot off the gas. So we (over)paid for another hotel room with the intent of getting it fixed today, a Sunday. But, knock on wood, it seems to be running fine. We called Robin for a diagnosis, and she said we probably have a leaky fuel pump, and that rainwater probably got in somehow. I think we'll be okay.
And to think, i even brought my swim trunks ...
A final burst of writing before we get back to the Sparbers' place. We're about 1/2 hour away right now. We're listening to Head by The Monkees. I wish writing didn't hurt my hand so much. I would've gone into more description about my driving last night, about the rain, about how hilariously incoherent i was at that gas station last night, or about how sleezy and weird i look in Jeff's purple sunglasses.
Our hero, not going to a Doobie Brothers concert,
believe it or not ...
The DMV thinks i'm ugly: i arrived home about 12 midnight that night with a surprise in my mailbox. My official NY State driver's license finally arrived. Of course with it came a letter, the jist of which you can read below.
