1/30 La Cave, Costa Mesa:
Stop at Pat's parent's house for a home-cooked meal. Christmas carols at the piano. Show in La Cave underground red light stead house where Sinatra once played. Fluid skatechow steeze. Dolphin City Sirens are super cool. Drummer hooks us up with tangelos. He and bassist dude trippin on lysergic. Good natured dudes all around. Gloria is excitable. She likes my contact mic show. I feed her some grapefruit, squish it in her face. She spits a nipple of bitter flesh onto my crushed velvet jacket. Potent plant genitals. Long drive in the dark to Encinidas past nuclear reactor boobies. Wobbling in the road as the wind rocks the ship. Paradise beach cliff gazing down on distant wave paintings unfolding in the moon glaze. Let Port's coral snake curl my fingers. Great to see Davenport. Remember what a great artist he is. Wish he wasn't laying dormant on his skills. Seagull with a gun barrel coming out its beak. I invite too many people to his house and arrive too late. His housemate is PMS pissed, a great text message war ensues ('I didn't know you had become an 80 year old grandma over night!') Have to find a new place to sleep tomorrow night. Perhaps it would be best to travel just as a band of fraternal brothers next tour. Its awsome having support of homies, but at some point you just gotta jump off the cliff and greet the outside world naked and exposed. Additionally, the more people in the caravan, the more logistical difficulties.
1/31 Chasers, San Diego:
Weak sauce idle unproductive day searching for a Kaoss Pad power adaptor. Easton's birthday. Interview in the car with Peteums. What's our preference? What is this tour all about? Intense retrospection. Idea for web album: release one song every week w/tracks, video, photos, lyrics. Compile whole ting at end into an album. Took a shit in a bush near a parking garage. Grant is watching, laughing. Soon after I am doing cartwheels down a grassy hill in the park. Something stinks: It's dog shit on my hand! Karma or poetic justice? Pizza on El Cajon Blvd. Nietzsche provides new perspectives. Shaming people is sinful. Chasers is empty when we arrive. Stochastic sound of cheap computer lottery games. Vaginals offshoot is odd and refreshing. Junk percussion ratchet rhythms and chaotic synthpop sounds. Maria (the drummer) got wind from her friend who played at the Hyperion tavern the same night as us that we were a bunch of premadonnas. It's hilarious that there's a pack of electrogoth rockers in LA that have a vendetta against us. Nevertheless, we get along great with Maria. She's super cool and lets us stay at her artful house. Insect x-rays and formaldehyde bat specimens from Necromance, a taxodermy-style shop. Toy keyboards and superhero dolls with cameltoes.
2/1 San Diego
Next day has 3 shows in store for us. An arty high school in Encinidas where the kids get enthused. Probably our most engaged audience. Asking about odd timesignatures, the programs that Ben uses, snatching for Battlerags, buying CDs. These people are the future and I'm stoked! Show at UCSD radio. Wacky interview, live set, songs from our EP. Ben quits. We break up at the end of the Bahs. Make-up reunion show at downtown nighttime house party show. JP is super chillin as the host of our evening. Ceiling is head high. Airplanes zooming overhead less than 100 m away. It's like Back in the USSR is starting every 15 minutes. A ton of awesome, supportive people at the party. MC's in mexican wrestler masks open for us. Step up rappers rock the house. MC Universe spiting mad inspirational flow. Kristin is beautiful and elusive. The GOP play five new songs under the pseudonym 'Le Elephantes.' New homey Randy comes to all 3 of our San Diego shows. Port describes local middle-aged washed out hairmetal heros: coke exploits and drunken shenanegans. Pat finds a bag of yayo. Lucky lady down the street. Little pomeranian pooch humping stuffed animals, lapping up barf and alcohol.
2/2 Narducci's Cafe, Bakersfield
At breakfast before heading to Bakersfield, Grant rolls into a thrift store with a fork in upper lip. Bananas in hand with a yellow shirt inspecting some yellow hightops "oh, these are Italian." Total passe. Drive to last show is heinous. Tired, disheveled. 2 pot bars in my belly. Girl talk in Easton's car. I'm giddy and pensive alternatingly. Mayhaps I will move to Solvang and raise a gaggle of children. First will be the pipelayer. We'll need water. Next will be the tillerman. We'll need food. Next will be the archetect. We'll need shelter, preferably of a thatched roof style. Windmills, copper roofs, hand-carved scrollwork and leaded windows. The need for a new Bible. Byzantine wing'd sentinels mark Casino gates. Indian braves guard big box store roofs. New memes: Crockus. Shanahan. BRATROCK, Inky Beak Wielder. Fish and chips plus $15 bar tab each at the cowboy tavern. Set is marred by technical difficulties. Amps falling off the rickety stage, cables and effects crapping out. Sound man can't get levels correct. Can't hear each other. Disappointed to not play well for Health. Hardcore band after us: "No more of this hippy shit.' Drummer gets in fight w/ audience member, whose girlfriend thinks it's our band. She runs out of the club and starts wailing on our van. Show gets cancelled at the beginning of Health's set. Smoke a spliff w/ an enthusiastic girl just fresh from Morocco/ Spain. Sniff some yack, long hyper-critical drive home. Trip was a success. No pull overs, tickets, breakdowns, missed shows, nor illnesses (aside from one massively uncomfortable bout with the 7-11 bathroom stiff shits).