9/10/12 Exeter, UK
1pm
Well, it’s official. I turned 32 last night. Our night in Cardiff was a raucous, drunken blur. I think the only time I genuinely feel homesick when we’re on the road is when birthdays, or holidays pop up. They tend to give me the feeling that I should be somewhere else. With my close friends perhaps? Or just back in Boston—on the streets I know. Thirty fucking two years old. I used to roll my eyes at my mom when she would say things like “You’ll see... time is gonna whip right by you”. She was totally right. It feels as if someone hit the fast forward button on my life and it just got stuck, zipping from moment to moment, city to city, state to state, country to country.
I've been in a state of reflection lately. Our friends back home are all taking huge, adult steps in their lives. Which isn't to say that we haven't. We're just on a huge tour-cation. As much as I love touring and playing music for people—changes need to be made. After all, that's what life really is—one long succession of change. Shed the old skin and see how the new layers feel. I had a dream last night in which Alissa and I had a house with a garden. We were happy there—she was happy there. It felt simple and manageable. We were growing. The older I get the more alluring this dream becomes. I’ll probably never be your every day suburban guy, but simplicity is... well... simple. If only twenty-one year old me could hear the shit I’m talking about. He would more than likely want to take a shot at me for giving in to the sway of age, giving in to the complicated feelings that come with it.
Christian, Alissa, and myself got tour tattoo’s yesterday. It was surreal—being tattoo’d in Wales by an Australian guy that we had met at the show the night before. We got coffee percolators—due to the large role coffee plays in our lives. The way our coffee breaks factor into our day to day tour lives. We all look forward to pulling over and making some roadside coffee— enjoying the view of a whole different world passing by while we take it all in—along with the coffee. Alissa got her tattoo on her leg, Christian and myself went for our arms. We keep making jokes about which one looks the best despite the fact that they all look exactly the same (sort of...mine is pretty defined). It marks the second time I've been tattoo’d on my birthday. The first time was my eighteenth birthday. I got a clover with a banner running across the stem reading my last name. There have been many times since then than that I’ve wanted to cut that thing off. I think this percolator will always remind me of our little three person road family. I know it will.
The Exeter show was at a venue called The Cavern. Instead of playing on the stage they had me set up in the corner of the room. They turned the place into a little restaurant-like venue. Complete with white table cloth tops. The show was set up by our UK booking agent, Jon Curtis. Jon comes off as kind, bright, and witty. He has just about the friendliest face I've ever seen. I may have my qualms with the way the UK leg has been booked, but John really is a sweet guy, and it's not easy to book someone like me—someone not on the "best of" scene list. The fact that he has helped us out by booking the tour is pretty fantastic.
The show went well. I had a great time playing in the unique setting that they had so thoughtfully organized. We even had a few friends from the last few tours come out to the show. Familiar, friendly faces go a long way these days. The one weird thing about the show—not one person bought any merch. Not a soul bought a record, nor a shirt. It could be that I sucked particularly bad on this occasion, or that the people at the show would rather have another beer or two than music they could download for free back at home. Either way it was a fun night, and it was nice to meet Jon
Side Note: While perusing Facebook today I saw several posts from “friends” saying “9/11 Never Forget”. No, I Imagine you won’t.
9/12/12 Norwich, UK
Grey, and rainy.
5:45pm
The show last night in London was the absolute closest I have ever come to actually being in an episode of the twilight zone. We talk a good game about things getting weird, but this was the real deal. The pub was a total shit hole, and the regulars were out of their fucking minds—literally. One of the more decrepit patrons got up several times to recite horrific poems. One of which he repeated several times. The bartender was a surly old lady that told Christian that he "needed to buy a drink in order to stay in the bar". This place was bonkers. If I were to write down every detail it would read like “One flew over the cookoo’s nest”. This UK run has sucked royally, pun intended.
Today is Christian’s birthday. Just after midnight he got a proper English birthday sing-along. The poor bastard is super hungover today. He tends to keep really quiet when he’s hungover. I think at moments like this he wishes he was back home in Gottingen, wishes he was not driving our dumb asses from country to country. Who could blame him? He had to spend his birthday in a shit bar—surrounded by an infirm poet, a surly bartender, and a world of non compos mentis. It could be worse for sure, but he's clearly missing home.
Before arriving in Norwich, we explored the city of Cambridge. It’s a nice little city. Gothic, and aesthetically Massachusetts-like. It would have been more pleasant had our day not fallen to shit. Alissa and I just found out that something we’d been working pretty hard on back at home would not come to fruition. We had this grand scheme to open a brewery in western Massachusetts with our friend, Bert. But it's just going to cost way too much to pull off. I’ve been a professional brewer for six years now, and I’ve always wanted to start a business from the ground up. What we found in the end was that it takes an epic fuck ton of money to get a brewery started. We simply don't have the capital to start something like that, and reality had to set in sooner or later—why not now.
The weather outside is grey and rainy, so I’m writing this from a coffee shop. I’m really starting to look forward to our two shows in Scotland. We’ve never been. Alissa and I have wanted to go there on our previous UK tours. I feel like being in the UK would be so much more tolerable if we were not on tour—trying to scrape by in a seemingly disingenuous music scene. Our tattoo’s are healing and so will our moods. It takes so little to turn around a low budget tour like this—so little.
1pm
Well, it’s official. I turned 32 last night. Our night in Cardiff was a raucous, drunken blur. I think the only time I genuinely feel homesick when we’re on the road is when birthdays, or holidays pop up. They tend to give me the feeling that I should be somewhere else. With my close friends perhaps? Or just back in Boston—on the streets I know. Thirty fucking two years old. I used to roll my eyes at my mom when she would say things like “You’ll see... time is gonna whip right by you”. She was totally right. It feels as if someone hit the fast forward button on my life and it just got stuck, zipping from moment to moment, city to city, state to state, country to country.
I've been in a state of reflection lately. Our friends back home are all taking huge, adult steps in their lives. Which isn't to say that we haven't. We're just on a huge tour-cation. As much as I love touring and playing music for people—changes need to be made. After all, that's what life really is—one long succession of change. Shed the old skin and see how the new layers feel. I had a dream last night in which Alissa and I had a house with a garden. We were happy there—she was happy there. It felt simple and manageable. We were growing. The older I get the more alluring this dream becomes. I’ll probably never be your every day suburban guy, but simplicity is... well... simple. If only twenty-one year old me could hear the shit I’m talking about. He would more than likely want to take a shot at me for giving in to the sway of age, giving in to the complicated feelings that come with it.
Christian, Alissa, and myself got tour tattoo’s yesterday. It was surreal—being tattoo’d in Wales by an Australian guy that we had met at the show the night before. We got coffee percolators—due to the large role coffee plays in our lives. The way our coffee breaks factor into our day to day tour lives. We all look forward to pulling over and making some roadside coffee— enjoying the view of a whole different world passing by while we take it all in—along with the coffee. Alissa got her tattoo on her leg, Christian and myself went for our arms. We keep making jokes about which one looks the best despite the fact that they all look exactly the same (sort of...mine is pretty defined). It marks the second time I've been tattoo’d on my birthday. The first time was my eighteenth birthday. I got a clover with a banner running across the stem reading my last name. There have been many times since then than that I’ve wanted to cut that thing off. I think this percolator will always remind me of our little three person road family. I know it will.
The Exeter show was at a venue called The Cavern. Instead of playing on the stage they had me set up in the corner of the room. They turned the place into a little restaurant-like venue. Complete with white table cloth tops. The show was set up by our UK booking agent, Jon Curtis. Jon comes off as kind, bright, and witty. He has just about the friendliest face I've ever seen. I may have my qualms with the way the UK leg has been booked, but John really is a sweet guy, and it's not easy to book someone like me—someone not on the "best of" scene list. The fact that he has helped us out by booking the tour is pretty fantastic.
The show went well. I had a great time playing in the unique setting that they had so thoughtfully organized. We even had a few friends from the last few tours come out to the show. Familiar, friendly faces go a long way these days. The one weird thing about the show—not one person bought any merch. Not a soul bought a record, nor a shirt. It could be that I sucked particularly bad on this occasion, or that the people at the show would rather have another beer or two than music they could download for free back at home. Either way it was a fun night, and it was nice to meet Jon
Side Note: While perusing Facebook today I saw several posts from “friends” saying “9/11 Never Forget”. No, I Imagine you won’t.
9/12/12 Norwich, UK
Grey, and rainy.
5:45pm
The show last night in London was the absolute closest I have ever come to actually being in an episode of the twilight zone. We talk a good game about things getting weird, but this was the real deal. The pub was a total shit hole, and the regulars were out of their fucking minds—literally. One of the more decrepit patrons got up several times to recite horrific poems. One of which he repeated several times. The bartender was a surly old lady that told Christian that he "needed to buy a drink in order to stay in the bar". This place was bonkers. If I were to write down every detail it would read like “One flew over the cookoo’s nest”. This UK run has sucked royally, pun intended.
Today is Christian’s birthday. Just after midnight he got a proper English birthday sing-along. The poor bastard is super hungover today. He tends to keep really quiet when he’s hungover. I think at moments like this he wishes he was back home in Gottingen, wishes he was not driving our dumb asses from country to country. Who could blame him? He had to spend his birthday in a shit bar—surrounded by an infirm poet, a surly bartender, and a world of non compos mentis. It could be worse for sure, but he's clearly missing home.
Before arriving in Norwich, we explored the city of Cambridge. It’s a nice little city. Gothic, and aesthetically Massachusetts-like. It would have been more pleasant had our day not fallen to shit. Alissa and I just found out that something we’d been working pretty hard on back at home would not come to fruition. We had this grand scheme to open a brewery in western Massachusetts with our friend, Bert. But it's just going to cost way too much to pull off. I’ve been a professional brewer for six years now, and I’ve always wanted to start a business from the ground up. What we found in the end was that it takes an epic fuck ton of money to get a brewery started. We simply don't have the capital to start something like that, and reality had to set in sooner or later—why not now.
The weather outside is grey and rainy, so I’m writing this from a coffee shop. I’m really starting to look forward to our two shows in Scotland. We’ve never been. Alissa and I have wanted to go there on our previous UK tours. I feel like being in the UK would be so much more tolerable if we were not on tour—trying to scrape by in a seemingly disingenuous music scene. Our tattoo’s are healing and so will our moods. It takes so little to turn around a low budget tour like this—so little.