Home again, home again, lickety split. Our last night of shows on the road was tough, me and Danny, Giraffes, Means and another band from NJ, the Ribeye Brothers. I question the wisdom of booking four touring bands on a Friday night, it just makes us all look bad. Aaron was a little tough on himself when the room was still empty when they were about to go on: "Man, I feel like Al Gore losing Tennessee." Still, some folks came out for the Giraffes, which was good. Giraffes did not turn out a personal best, though. Our days on the road have clearly taken a toll on Aaron. I'm at least as concerned about his chemical consumption as he is about mine. In addition to his phenomenal smoking (three packs during the drive from DC to Youngstown) he's been hitting handfuls of aspirin, diet pills, ephedrine, xenadrine, bottles of Dayquil, Immodium AD, Pepto Bismol, etc. Not only is his voice shot, he looks on the edge of nervous collapse. He's a smart man, it shouldn't take much for him to realize that a handful of aspirin does more damage to your liver than all the pitchers of shit beer I've consumed on this tour. Still, he somehow manages to keep his spirits up. On stage, though, his "sibling rivalry" with Damien has blossomed into thinly veiled hostility. Usually he whips Damien around by his shirt with a big shit eating grin on his face; last night, he was scowling and screaming at him. I seem to have hit the end of my rope last night as well, or at least the end of a rope. Every beer tasted bitter and made me queasy and every cigarette tasted like masking tape. I hate to admit it but I'm definitely ready for a couple of days off. We left after the Giraffes set last night, as Damien had to be back for work and Danny had to be back for a wedding. Damien riding with us meant that the Giraffes would get to sleep the night at Aaron's folks house, which they all needed, so we took Damien with us. I spent the entire drive in the bunk. Damien's job was to keep Danny up while he drove, so he took a bunch of speed and played him the whole Damien discography. As beat as I was, I hardly slept at all until three or four, I just stayed up listening to Damien talk. He's really an incredible guy. None of his interest in horror movies or riff rock seems to grow out of a desire to be tough: he just really seems to love it with unabashed joy. He's always willing to let himself get excited. He did let out some interesting information when he though I was asleep. Apparently, when the Giraffes crashed after the show in Athens, Nithin bugged out. They'd all gotten stoned and Damien said he remembered Nithin creeping out of the house around four. Apparently, he was convinced all the Giraffes were going to attack him and spent hours wandering around Athens in his socks and underwear, screaming at a few people, hiding from cars and getting lost before eventually finding his way home. I'm glad Danny heard that from Damien and not from me, but it's kind of a moot point. I write it here not to embarrass Nithin, who I've forgiven (this anecdote, more than anything else, disburses any remaining ill will towards him,) and I want nothing more than for these dark deeds to be forgotten. But before they're forgotten, I guess I just want to plant an idea, a tiny little seed, that perhaps I'm not as crazy as it seems. Or at least that I'm not the only crazy one. NY was beautiful and intimidating in the morning light. The bunk is right at eye level for everyone else, so I couldn't help but catch the eye of a bunch of suburbanites. I like to think it brightened up their day, looking up and seeing a huge, hairy mostly naked dude stretched out in the back of a soccer mom mini-van. I'm nervous about the show at Sine tonight. I need for it to go well for my state of mind, but mostly, I need the money that would come from a good turnout. We got a great review in Time Out New York, and I spent a long time making calls shilling for myself, so hopefully that's worth something. God, I hate plugging for myself, but I guess it's necessary. I'm sad about the tour w/ Giraffes and Means drawing to a close. The shows w/ the Means have been anticlimactic and though we've enjoyed each others company, I can't imagine that we'll ever hook up again. Somehow, I don't think that I'll be invited back on another tour with the Giraffes, which sucks because I know I'll need to be able to tag along with bigger bands w/ better draws for a while yet, and also because being around them kept me from getting too down when shit was not going well on this trip. Who knows, though, maybe we just need some time off from each other.
Posted by Mishka at September 20, 2003 12:58 AM