Sitting in the Soapbox Laundro Lounge in Wilmington, NC, listening to the world’s worst college rock band “in the vein of the Beatles and Pink Floyd” as their posters say. And pass me the lampshade, I’m drunk again.
Chad rode w/ me all day yesterday, from Morgantown, WV to Charlotte, NC. It’s clear that the road has taken its toll on Chad’s friendships w/ the rest of the guys in the band, but man, I can’t imagine what he would do if he wasn’t in a band. I drove the first leg, and then he took over driving for the last three or four hours and let me pass out enough to drool all over my pillow in the back of the van. That’s like REM sleep for me.
Tough show last night. Have I said that before? Well, let me say it again, tough show last night. Played at The Room in Charlotte, NC to a grand total of two people who weren’t in the bands. Wow. Soldiered through though, and managed to even win over The Roy Owens Jr. Wasn’t sure about them at first, as they all seem to have large personalities, which I’m sure is fine w/ The High Strung, the most accommodating, non-confrontational band in the world, but it almost always spells trouble for me. They made it clear from the start that The High Strung was headlining and that they weren’t going first, even though I’m playing through HS’s equipment. But after the show, man, me and Morgan really hit it off and he insisted that I play with them in Athens and Nashville and that he would go out of his way to make it happen. His plan is to tell the soundguy that I’m their lead guitar player and just let me do a couple of songs before their set, and then their real lead player (who used to play w/ Crooked Fingers!) will step up and do it. Fucking great. They really seem to be great guys so far, real dudes, I spent a fun half hour talking to Quinn, their guitar player, about the headstock repair on his Les Paul, whether the P-90s in it were original, etc., etc. A good turn of fate so far.
At the eleventh hour, we were without a place to crash, so I just took a chance and asked the cute bartender if we could stay with her. She was a little coy about it at first, but we ended up heading back to her place w/ a case of bud light, fucking fantastic after we were looking at sleeping in a rest stop in our vans and I was doing surface area calculations to figure out who would be warmer in my van w/ me, Chad or Mark. Derek rode back in the car with her and seemed to be making good time with her, so I was happy someone was going to score. Then he insisted that we all sleep in her bedroom (meaning Derek was going to get nothing, or we were all going to get a show), so we all laid out our sleeping bags on her floor, taking up every available inch of floor space. I was the first one to lay down and I went right to sleep. Josh slept right next to me, not an uncomfortable closeness. Well, except for when I woke up w/ a huge throbbing boner in the morning. For those of you keeping score at home, the painful tumor on the base of my cock is still there, still kicking ass. I walked out to the living room and Derek was laying on the couch, watching TV. He appeared sleepy, which could have meant that they had a busy night that I slept right through, or he could have appeared sleepy because he always appears sleepy. After a while, the whole crew except for me and Derek adjourned to the thrift store, and I was finally able to ask him what happened. Apparently, after we all laid our beds out and I passed out, Derek and the bartender adjourned to the living room to “watch some TV.” And apparently, while they were “watching this TV,” Derek fell asleep and the cute bartender slept alone in her bed with a bunch of smelly band guys laying at her feet like stray dogs. Derek, to this date the most reliable High Strunger, showed me that even the MVP sometimes fumbles the ball at the one yard line. Man, nice work.
I felt sick this morning, sinus trouble and a head full of phlegm. I’ve been drinking too much beer, well, drinking too much in general, but specifically too much beer. Managed to get some time making booking phone calls and got some internet time on the bartender’s computer. After about ten phone calls to a place in Houston that went unanswered, I got an e-mail from the booker that he’s got a show for me and asked me how much ‘compensation’ I was looking for. Fucking great. Still no word from anyone in Denver, though. A booker in Flagstaff wrote me back w/ suggestions for other venues as he can’t help me, what a nice guy. Then today I got two calls, one from a booker in New Orleans who, though she can’t give me a show because their club is closing, she wanted to call to try to hook me up with some other good bands and tell me that she enjoyed the CD. Great shot to the confidence. Then I got a call from a booker in Nashville, who told me she had an early slot for me for three songs, so now I’ll have two shows when I’m in Nashville, when I had been planning to just take that day off. I was in a great mood all day, feeling like I’m really making progress.
Took the Pod in for a carwash to get all the salt off it. Found out that it so noisy to drive because the seal on the driver’s side door doesn’t work at all. Found that out by getting fucking drenched by the carwash. Christ.
Made it into Wilmington dead on my feet and managed to get a nap before the show, another tough show. Played to about four people who weren’t in the band tonight… so I guess it’s actually a step up. The write-up that I got here is pretty decent sized, the picture of me is totally huge and gratuitous, but somehow it wasn’t good for any people, so far not even the writer who wrote it. Now if I can just find a place to crash tonight…
Posted by Mishka at January 23, 2004 11:47 PM