When we finally got to the Columbus, my ass was dragging in all kinds of ways. Our performance was fine, but applause was lackluster, even from the Giraffes, who never even left the side room to watch the set. They seem to have tired of me. But fuck, it's been a long trip, even I'm tired of me. Danny's still a soldier. But it didn't end up being a bad night. The room never really filled up, even for the Means, but both the other bands turned out luminescent performances. Rereading my journal entries so far, it seems like I just give a daily handjob to the Giraffes, saying each night that their performance is great. But each show has been just that, great, and not just rote great, but new: each night, Aaron seems to re-invent himself according to his moods and his latest schemes. It's funny, as much as I feel now my relationship with him is clotted with all these crossed lines, I've grown closer to everyone else in their band. After about the second day of the tour, I started looking forward to getting out of the van and hanging out with Drew. He's been oddly supportive of us, and seems to genuinely enjoy our sets. He's totally taken Danny under his wing. Hearing some of the hell he's been through trying to get his acting career rolling gives me new sympathy for him. Somehow I really enjoy his company now, though it still baf'es me how what is obviously an enormous brain seems to be used only to crank out aural pornography. If it wasn't uniformly hilarious, I guess I might have a legitimate gripe. Jon I've liked and only liked as soon as the Giraffes got him off the damn fretless bass. He's offered several times to play bass for me, which is the highest compliment. Damien's still Damien, just the fucking best, a totally unique soul. Nithin apologized again, and told me to call him if I ever need a show in Dayton. I think he is sorry, he seems to be going through some shit, and it may be time for me to forgive as I've been forgiven. After the show, we retired to The Means' house, where Jason pretty much held court. After loudly disdaining some of my shout-outs at the club, for which I bitched him out, he proceeded to the direct personal attacks on my appearance. Which I'm used to, even if not from someone who seems so obsessed with not projecting an image of any kind. My regret of the tour so far is not having been able to spend any time alone shooting the shit with him. He's really a great mind and I think if he could stop spraying his brilliance around him like an automatic weapon, we could be great friends. He has been a little condescending about my music, but not in a way that I could ever call him on, which is frustrating. I really like him and I want him to like what I'm making. Brad and Emily and Dave have been routinely great. Brad seems overworked and diminishingly optimistic that their band will ever reach its potential, Emily was totally sweet and funny and un-selfconscious at all about being the only girl hanging with such a bunch of dudes. I even got to know Dave a little, who has seemed unfriendly in the past, but now I think he's like me, when he doesn't know anyone, he just sits by himself and scowls at his beer. I think he feels the way the rest of Jason's bandmates do: they understand that they've created something that's terrifyingly good, records that are wound so tight they're almost physically heavy and live performances like a woman giving birth in the middle of a riot, but are just at a loss as to what else they have to do so they can quit their restaurant jobs and pay their gas bill.
Posted by Mishka at September 19, 2003 12:56 AM