We’ll get out of town and then eat.

We are all in remarkably great moods. One show to go and then it’s back home. Yesterday was hard just because we got it into our heads that we might be able to go home today. But since the show is on, the show is ON! So we’re pumped and ready.
We talk about everything. It’s a long way. We talk about the Movie. Everyone has The Movie of The Story of Their Lives. Ours has it all – sex, drugs, rock and roll – Gods, Goddesses, minions, magic, delusion, murder, adultery, fornication, a dictionary, Germans, Russians, Italians – THE FRENCH! Fucking international appeal, this is the real fucking shit! Murder???

The cities go by one by one until their mother, Toronto finally shows up. She screams at us to get going so we pass right by. We head on down to Brantford. This is the scene of one of the craziest shows I ever played (this was a long time before now). There was a bar owner named God who had my band play two nights – three shows (one was an afternoon show for street punks). It was outta control. He taught me and my bass player how to drink. He put the bottle of JD on the counter and said “Just keep your head above the bar and your eyes on me – you’ll be fine”. I can’t remember anything after that.
To me you have to really fuck up to fuck up in this town – my memories assured me of this.

We get there and check into the hotel and then head over to the bar. We see the big truck there in the front of the place unloading the PA gear. Well see… isn’t that totally promising!?

Mike, the very cordial soundman and current mover of said gear, says that the show is on. But there is ominous news…

We ask if there are any other bands here yet. He shakes his head – beads of sweat fall from him. He’s moving a ton of gear all by himself. He says no other bands yet. But it’s early so we’ll check it all out and make sure everything is fine.

We go in and talk to George. His family bought the bar back in the 1950’s. It was made in a building that has its roots in the 1870’s. It’s a very nice bar too – a great place for a rock show.

But all the bands are a no-show. Yes, that’s right! And Mike and George have been trying to reach the booker via e-mail and phone for days but there’s nothing for it. How fitting that, here, at the end, the last show and nothing but imaginary friends – the same ones that we played to during the OTHER show this same promoter set up.

According to George and Mike (two guys who clearly love music and understand bands) this has happened before – which is really the modus operandi of this talentless hack of a promoter.

It is at this point that you ask yourself: what the fuck?

I call AMP. She is as shocked as we are. She was assured a great show. I relate my more violent leanings on how to deal with this whole situation. She calms me down and says she’ll make a call or two. She does. And instead of getting apology or commiseration – which would have been the professional thing to do – she received disbelief at the situation. Couldn’t be his fault, could it?

Geez – lemme look at this a sec…

If said promoter twat is doing this maliciously then he clearly has sociopathic issues – I’ve never met the guy – why would he want me to expend energy, money, resources and morale needlessly like this? If he wants me to fail, why work with me in the first place?
If he actually believes that this kind of fucking-up-of-shows, spirit and relationship is doing his job … holy shit! I’d love to know how his fucking company makes any money at all – if they ever do.

And listen – never think I don’t know the difference between oversight, mistake, accident or “things beyond our control” and ineptitude. Shit happens – that’s the nature of everything. Even when you do your best, there are going to be problems. No house has perfectly straight walls. So don’t think I’m crapping on this guy, because I like crapping on people…

It would be a better story, as far as I’m concerned, to talk about how we rolled into Brantford and the other local bands were there. How that they were contacted by the promoter to make sure that the turn-out was going to be a good one… how that the local acts were all on the same page (given our info by the promoter so they’d know who they were playing with). And Mike the sound guy would be happily mixing live sound for all of us, and George the bar owner would be happily taking those drink orders.

Doesn’t it sound easy? Well, it is, except if the promoter is an absolute moron who leaves professionals (bands, sound technicians, bar owners, managers, PR people and record companies) in the fucking lurch.

So now it begs the question: should I say his name? Should I tell you his information so that you, especially if you’re in a band (I’ve been at this successfully for a long, long time so I can absorb needless hits like this and recover, but there are a lot of acts that wouldn’t be able to – and that would be a shame) can either stay away from him or be aware that he has a fucking horrible reputation and no real talent as a promoter.
You tell me. Should I?

What would you do? Think of the implications – there are some very, very good booking agents out there who would think I’m being very unfair to this guy. Maybe they wouldn’t work with me because I didn’t give dickless the benefit of the doubt.

When is justice worth sacrifice? Everyone bitches about the sad state of the music business and here is a culprit. What do I do? (I actually know what I’m going to do but I love being dramatic about the whole thing!)

Let me relate to you one more episode (next blog post) and then you can help me decide.

BUT FIRST…

Well, the tour is over. We shook hands with Mike the sound guy and George the bar owner who apologized again and again for the promoter’s lack of professionalism. These fellas in Brantford are good people and I’d go back there in a second, especially if they’re the ones we’d be working with.

We walked across the parking lot and into a Strip Club. They asked Alex to leave on account of his sleeveless vest he was wearing cuz we were going to play! Oh my God this guy has been boosted from more places during this tour than he has his whole life. So he goes to the Banyion. Zasta goes out first to see if he can talk Alex back. Zasta comes back with no luck. “He says he’s not in the mood anymore.” Fair enough but I’ll give it the old college try too. So I go out to the Banyion.

I knock on the window. “Yeeeah?” I explain that we should have at least a drink together in there – last day and all. He’s not interested. I don’t blame him. I say we’ll be out in 5 min. Alex catches sight of something over my shoulder. I turn to look. There’s a dude climbing a drainpipe and looking for a way into an apartment up on that building over there. We look at each other. “Brantford,” we say together. Alex locks the door to the Banyion as I close it.

Zasta, Jon and I finish our drinks there on Perv row and after doing a double-take (no, not because of the girl – although she was sexy) because we were about to walk out but Prodigy got a spin by the DJ.

We go into the Banyion (Zasta crawls under her and taps the starter) and drive to Boston Pizza. The place is packed with University students. Drunk girls and the guys who’ll fuck ‘em if they wait long enough. We got seated and were very definitely not a part of the little sexy power plays going on. And we were too tired to care.

Our waitress – a cool brunette named Amelia became our friend. She was upset that the gig didn’t work out. “You shouldn’t use that booker.” Ahh, out of the mouths of babes – and when I say babe I mean hot girl. And speaking of hot girls, Michelle was also hovering around. I’m positive she didn’t touch the ground at any time. Hot little number. Would look at home in L.A. or Paris, or my bed! Zing!

So we finish our meal and head back to the Hotel.
And that’s that. Tomorrow… the long drive home. And we want to leave early. Enough is enough.

There was no difference between the days. Last and today. We’re in the Banyion and we keep it running. TO screams at us again – and then the little dots down the 401 get farther and farther apart. And then tired trees everywhere you look.

We all breathe deeply when we come back to our Quebec. The land, the people, the music, the politics, the women! This is our place. La Belle Province. Mon beau pays. Mon amour. I love it here. I have no roots anywhere else. Quebec doesn’t hold me as much as she loves me. And I love her back. Je suis Quebecois.

We drive to Alex’s first. We drop him off. Last picture of the road.

We’re never going to do this again – not until next time. Ha!

Then it’s Jon.

No, we’re never going to do this again…

Then Zasta gets dropped off at his place.

… not until the next time.

Then I back the Banyion up to my place – my studio. And I quiet the great beast – she did a good job. I turn her off for the last time. I climb out. I walk to the big, black metal door and stop before putting the key in. The moon is tapping me on my shoulder. I smile just enough to look crazy.

I can’t wait until the next time.

I’m feeling like the world is mine. I can take her. And she’s no push over. She’s a wild woman. A vampire. A hot librarian who doesn’t wear panties of any kind. But right now I can make her do anything I want. She tells me she will as she looks up at me from down there on her knees. Goddamn, why do I need adoration? Why do I need acceptance? Approval? We all do, don’t we? We all need to matter, don’t we? You’re everything to me baby, no matter what stupid shit I do.

No, nothing I do could or will make me happy. And music isn’t happiness, conditional, non-conditional or otherwise. It’s simply what we make. “We” are who is happy or miserable. And Happiness is unqualified. You either are or you are not. If you are then you are – with or without external qualifiers. If you’re not then you’re fucked. I’m fucked. Most of us are. Just weak situational happiness addicts going from one fix to another. Comparing our hardened veins and looking for new ways to score. Fucked.

But I’m not up to real happiness yet. Don’t think I’d be able to cope with it anyway. I’m working on honesty right now. Honesty sucks man ass. And that’s The Gods Of Now honest truth.

And no I’m not talking about appeasing your own sense of guilt by confession thus making you feel better while the result kills the other person’s spirit – that’s fucking weak. You do that and you’re just a pansy who needs more help than me. Nor is honesty assuaging your own moral code on the ticket of someone else – believe this or you’re going to hell you bastard! That’s Fucked too.

My eyes open and I’m dizzy. I’m sure these thoughts are somehow coming to me from the future. Time is completely gone now. It’s simply measured in how much gas is in the Banyion and what show it is tonight.

Alex says Ottawa.

Ott-a-wa. I say it slowly. What a fucking life.

We all get up and get ready. Check out is at 11 but we have to drive 5 or so hours to get to the capital of Canada. We want to leave ASAP. But we need breakfast.

We stow our luggage in the Banyion and walk over to the Golden Griddle. We all have normal breakfasts. It’s alright. Not great. There’s sort of a pattern of meal-times emerging to me. In the West, breakfast is ALWAYS essential and amazing. And as the day wears on things get sucky. It’s the opposite here in the East. Breakfast isn’t near as good. But lunch, dinner and beyond are a grade A cut above.

We all wonder about the gig in Brantford. We’re tired and with no confidence in the booking guy – yeesh. Do we really want to do it. It’s 5 hours from here to Ottawa and that means it’s 7 hours or so from Ottawa to Brantford.

Sigh. We’re here to play so if it’s scheduled we’ll be there but we’ll double check with AMP before we go to make sure it’s a necessary trip. Yes, of course, we all see that the booking should have been Brantford, Toronto and THEN Ottawa. A 6 year old would have seen that. But this is our first tour – often, and affectionately called the shit tour. So this is to be expected – but certainly not wanted. But to play for people is what we’re here for and a drive is what gets us there.

We go out – ARGH! The Banyion won’t start again. She’s tired. She’s given up! Fucked! A mirror of my psyche.

Gawd damn it! I call CAA again. 47 min.

So now we’re all sitting here contemplating… things. The cast of characters that have joined us on this tour. Cities that have become havens for these characters. Winnipeg, Edmonton, Calgary, Kamloops. Regina, Thunder Bay, Toronto, Montreal.

Good guys and villains (in my case, both to everyone), gorgeous girls and hot dames making us hard as a rock. Lost minds, crazy nights, snow-boarding baseball bat junkies. Mountain high spirituality needing cunt and ass so bad it makes us scream night after night in endless lust of finding connections that are thirsty for what we have and in terror of it. Closing seedy joint and finding love in the putrid, filthy kiss of a hotel bed. Head pounding, cock pounding, fists pounding, heart pounding and all for rock and roll. Fucked up and down the road.

The guy from CAA shows up in about 15 minutes. He works at a radio station so I give him an EP so he can spin it. Nice.

He boosts the battery of the Banyion and nothing. He grabs a pipe and crawls under the belly of the beast and hits her G spot. The Banyion fires to life.

Wha?

He smacked the starter – and it’s now our new trick. (Jon points out that he told us to do this ages ago – what the fuck? Was he a fucking paratrooper too?) If we shut down the Banyion, one of us – usually Jon or Zasta goes under and hits the starter with a pair of pliers.

We’re on our way.

But we’re behind schedule so we burn to Ottawa. We get there at around 8 o’clock. That’s late but we figure we’ll go to the club, check out when we’re playing and then head over to the hotel to shower and then change into our stage gear.

We stop to plead with Moonbabe Records, our record company, to let us off of the last show. But the word is in. It’s been double checked. The show is on and it sounds like it’s gonna be a good one. And like I’ve said before – “The show must go fucking on!” so we’re going. None of us want to but if there is a promise of new fans we’re there.

So now I’m standing with the Banyion cuz we can’t turn her off. So Alex, Zasta and Jon are inside checking things out. I can see as soon as they walk out there’s something wrong.

We’re considered amateurs who don’t know what they’re doing. Um. Okay. We’re told to bring in our stuff NOW and set up in front of the stage. I shrug. I don’t blame these Ottawa guys for thinking we’re nothings. If they had to deal with our booker to get us on this show they can’t be blamed at all.

I walk up the stairs and Knives For Kids are sound checking. They sound good and glam. They have a huge set up. Can’t help but say out loud, “They must be from around here”. I can’t imagine going on tour with so much gear without roadies. Cabs on cabs, stacks of crap to the ceiling! Wow. We bring in our scaled down Marshall cab and Vox cab and Mesa bass cab. They’re small but they’ll rip your heart out. That’s all that counts.

So we’re not even given a hello or anything. We can’t even change into our stage gear. All good tho. We just want to play and then leave. We have a fucking long road to our next and last show in Brantford.

I go and park the Banyion around the block. I turned it off – so she’s there till we’re done.

On the way back on Rideau street I find myself enter a déjà vu, like looking through a video camera suddenly where everything becomes pristine and crystal clear. Bathed in shadow which is light.

I go back inside the club and wait. Jon’s parents show up. It’s always so nice to see them. They love their sonny that’s for sure, and he’s right lucky. Jon’s V is here too.

So now I’m walking out – I feel like a split personality at this point. There’s no room for me. No room for us. No room at all. And then I see my old school friend Dr. John Clearwater (he’s an author of books on Nuclear Weapons, Canada and the whole damn Ka-Boom thing). He saw my very first live show and now after all this time here he is with his wonderful wife Pam along for the ride. Great!

I’m falling in and out of some parallel universe. The one where Spock and Kirk have beards and are butchers respectively. Yeoman Rand – everyone knows she’s his bitch. Come on! Nothing changes in the parallel universe except her costume. Now we play.

We play and kill. Poor kids – it’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye.

We pack up and leave – the guy from Knives for Kids helps us out. And it is GREATLY appreciated. He was the only person there attached to the show that showed us any form of hospitality. When you’re on the road this is the only currency – other than money, cuz that’s, like, real currency, but you get my meaning. We’d work with them again without question because of this.

However, we leave feeling not exactly welcomed, but like we exploded a bomb and no one quite knew what the hell happened.

We say good-bye to Jon’s parants and Dr. John Clearwater and his wife Pam and drive back to the hotel… We do a U-turn at the big CPR castle hotel Chateau Laurier. We all look at it and know that on the next tour..,

Psycho Fantasy – Free For All!

We walk into the grand lobby. All for our own rooms. Our own curvy spiritual commitments with us. I walk down the hall next to beauty. Fitting in this luxury. Dark wood, shag carpet – tight pile that isn’t quiet soft but isn’t quiet hard. Perfect for the walk to our room. The long corridor – makes we want to speak in an English accent. Makes me want to shout that I have the secret to why the government sucks man ass! I have cracked the Enigma code!

But I’m tired and you’re hot and I want you. So we open the door and are ready to jump on the bed. But the place is fucking huge! Actually we don’t see the place yet. We have to walk down another shorter L shaped hallway. Then we see the room. The place is fucking huge! Did I already say that?

We throw down our luggage. There’s no stopping now. Look at that view – and I ain’t talking about the one through the windows there lass! Now I’m speaking in a Scottish accent – why? Why can’t I just be me? I pick you up and take you into the bathroom…

Why is fucking in a gorgeous bathroom so goddamn erotic? Or is that erotique? It is Ottawa for crying out loud. I make you pee in the sink. God, look at the fucking thing – I’m talking about the sink. King Henry the VIII never peed in anything as nice as that – and look at you all pretty and such sitting there. An old friend of mine told me once – “What are hotel rooms for if not for finding new and interesting ways to pee on things.”

I can hear TGON in the next room – I’m not sure who it is but they’re loud enough to wake animals! That’s okay – we’re not distracted we’re hungry. So we call and order the works. Gotta have the shrimp cocktail. That’s a staple of all psycho fantasy hotel stays. Then we make mad, passionate, wild love! No! We fuck! Hard. Like machines. Like we’ve just kissed Lucifer’s Ass and this is the next step to damnation!

BING BONG!

Room service – we dawn robes that one of us finds in the closet. Now we’re livin’ rich baby! Oh yeah! We’re fabulously wealthy! We’re comfortably well off. Nice.

I feed you the shrimp cocktail. It seems like the thing to do. Sitting on the edge of an overstuffed bed after a show with you. It just seems like…a fantasy. The only thing left to do is make love once more (a little anal action baby! Oh yeah! Zing!!!) and then fall asleep with you close up and tight in my arms.

I open my eyes…

Just a bed. Another bed in another cheap hotel. It’s stuffy in here. Smells like a band too. Jon! God damn it! What is wrong with you!

Awwww fuck! Close your eyes dumb ass and try to get it back! Close your goddamn eyes.

Just another bed – alone.

This water is exactly the same now. But everything else is different. Better.

Except for the fact that Alex, when he shaves leaves what looks like Woolly Mammoth clippings knee deep in the sink. We don’t live here for more than a day so we don’t care but we notice. I think it’s funny.

So we’re all up and one by one we go down to Shoeless Joe’s for breakfast. It’s good and our waitress behind the bar is a very exotic looking woman who at first seems stand-off-ish. But later she asks where we’re playing and what our story is.

We hang out and do some work and rest up. I go down to the terrace and have a JD in the sunshine. It’s a very pleasant moment. I watch the homeless guy way down at the bottom of the hill at the end of the off ramp of the 401. What a great day for being lonely. Writing infected songs down by the highway. Feeling each sip like a throbbing tattoo. Thinking if I had the money…

So we’re all a little slower than usual. Cathy Fudge contacts us and says she’s not feeling well and has no way to get back to her place, (it’s like 579 miles to where she lives out in Yakoupitzville, a little known suburb of Toronto.) so she may not be able to come to the show. I shake my head. She has a fucking tattoo of our logo on the side of her torso! I think we could drive her home.

We get into the Banyion and head to the Kathedral. The drive is fine and by now we know our way. Easy.

We get to the venue and Scott and Tasha from Awsum Ink are there to greet us. They are so friendly and we like them immediately. Scott gives off the air of being on top of all the details. He points out the postering (which is everywhere!) they’ve done in the area. We are going to be working with them for our Toronto record launch on OCTOBER 24th so this makes us feel very reassured. Great!

They are expecting the other acts so we have some time to go and eat. Jon really wants to go to the Hard Rock Café which is fine with me. I love all those rock star things on the wall. I think it’s great that they have the clothing that each of these amazing performers have worn during one show or another. What I don’t like – and neither do Alex, Zasta or Jon is the instruments, amps and equipment that are all up in their glass cases. These things are like horses or musicians – they’re happiest when they’re working.

We have hamburgers . Mine’s veggie. It’s good. And a chicken wrap. It is also good.

I have to go for a quick shop in the Eaton Center to buy two things for my two girls. I don’t have a lot of time so I choose two dolls very quickly. I don’t realize one of them is a special edition Barbie – Those Tartan Nights – The Pinup Collection. She’s wearing this tiny tartan nightie. Oops. Maybe a little too Scottish for a little girl?

So I go back to the Hard Rock Café and we pile in the Banyion and go back to the club. This time Rob Power the head guy from Awsum Ink is there. He is a straight up rock and roller who is all about the live music. He looks after us.

We set our gear as the other bands arrive. The stage layout is established and it’s all a go. We need some coffee so we let Scott know we’re leaving for 15. We walk down the street to a little coffee place. We look outside on the other side of the street and see Cathy Fudge walking along. We call to her but she doesn’t hear us.

We head back and each give Cathy a hug when we see her. She’s the girl that got the TGON tattoo on the side of her torso – “TGON torso Cathy!” We sing.

So we sit back and enjoy the show…

A 15 year old guitarist who is going to be a fucking power to be reckoned with in just a few short years opened it up.

Next Blood Runs Cold played. They had great energy and a really hard vibe. Nice.

Then West Memphis Suicide who slammed down the whiskey bottle and played Hard Greasy Rock until the dust was falling from the rafters.

Tasha’s camera has run out of batteries. So I grab my Nikon D70 which she takes to like that! She’s clicking away. I really want to take a photographer on the next tour. It’s so important to have a record in pix.

Then we played. Soon, when the expectations of what we do are as great and satisfied as the surprise and shock you feel when you first see us – we’ll be getting closer to our goals. We kick fucking ass.

So, sweaty as I am! And I sweat like Michael Jordan when I play! We hang with Rob, Scott and Tasha after the show. We make some plans. Gotta do an all ages show with Rob and Scott for sure. But as usual it’s time to book outta there.

Cathy comes with us in the Banyion. She’s sitting with me in the back and is also as hungry as we THE GODS OF NOW are. So we go for something to eat at Markham station.

We have breakfast and then it’s time for the long ride to Cathy’s place. I don’t think content matters at all as much as intent. Large grey spires that reflect no light. Deep, dark hidden things that are all just a Point Of View. Fog everywhere. I drop her off and head back.

I turn on a Classic Rock Station. What is it? Harlequin? Streethart? Strange Advance? The huge road is all mine. 7 or 8 lanes of room to breathe. 579 milles is a long way to drive someone home but I love to drive. It dawns on me – “That helps.” Of all the problems that I have just trying to get from birth to death the fact that I like to drive “helps.” The thought makes me happy.

I get back to the hotel and lay on the bed.

I close my eyes. Home is right around the corner.

I shower and get ready to go. Ahhh, that feels so much better. Today is going to be a very good day!

The Banyion won’t start. Aww, crap!

Okay, okay…

Okay…

Okay, okay.

What did you see that guy that did that thing back in that place where you can’t remember where you were, do?

I CAN’T REMEMBER!

Okay. Pop the hood. That might fool the Banyion into thinking you know what you’re doing. – POP-.

-Click- Power but no cigar. Damn! And I popped the hood and everything!

Wait! It’s coming back to me! He jiggled the negative connection to the battery! I can do that. I’m no Hot Holly the Mechanic – but I can jiggle something. I do that when I piss!

Whoa! The hoods already popped – I’m so going to do this! Yeah!

I reach in and jiggle.

!!!

The fucking negative pylon connector came off! AWWWW FUCKKKKK!

Okay, okay…

Okay…

Okay, okay…

CAA! Yeah, should’ve done that before popping the hood! That hood fucked me up! Fuck you hood – I curse you!

I call. They’ll be here in 79 hours! Agh! Okay just come here! My battery is broken.

They come in a bout 8 min. Cool.

He looks at the connection to the battery. “Yep, it came off.”
???

Yeah, okay.

“You need to fix that.”

???!!!

Come on!

He boosts the Banyion so it starts. And then tells me to take it to a garage. They’ll fix me up. It’s just down the street.

By this time Zasta and Alex are with me. Jon is just getting his stuff together. We decide that I’ll go to fix the Banyion and they’ll go to the resto right across the parking lot and have some breakfast. We have our missions.

I pull out and go down the street just as Alex and Zasta walk over to the Resto and go inside.

This is the precise moment that Jon walks outside. And in his head the quiet voice speaks up and says “They left you behind!”. Jon calmly walks to the sidewalk next to the street with his luggage. He puts it down, takes out a cigarette and lights up. He takes a long drag. “In about an hour, they’ll see I’m not there… aw fuck.”

Alex and Zasta watch Jon from the inside of the Resto. “What the hell?”. “One of us should go get ‘em.”. They eventually do.

I get the the garage in no time and pull in. I’m just in time to see Tanya, a curvy parts girl showing off her new tattoo on the side of her body. Can’t lose all of Sault Ste-Marie… I give her a sticker and tell her to check out the web site. She tells me that The Sault is a week-end town. Everyone works to get to Friday and then they party hard. Hmmm. Everybody’s working for the weekend. Was Loverboy in the Sault when they wrote that?

The guy from the garage fixes the problem in record time and asks for a nominal fee. I’m happy to give it to him. This would have cost $250 in Montreal.

I go back to the resto. I have peroggies. None of the guys think the food is very good. But I like my peroggies just fine.

We’re out!

We drive – and for those of you who know – all I have to do is say Hwy 17. Yeeesh.

We haven’t been taking any pix for a while so we snap a few at The Hungry Bear when we stop for salads and soup and a burger. We enjoy it. It’s good food and the asparagus soup is homemade and really delicious. We go back for all kinds. Our pee will smell tonight!

At this point we’re all farther than tired. Over tired doesn’t even come close to where we’re at. We’re almost catatonic when we sit down. That’s a problem for when we drive of course. It’s very difficult now. Zasta takes the wheel – he’s dead tired tho – like all of us. He conks out in about an hour.

I take over and drive to our Hotel. A nice clean and big Travelodge. We move on in.

Alex yells when he walks into the bathroom. “No! This…this…this can’t be!”

We’re all thinking that he found MORE shit on the floor. Zasta and Jon both look at me. “What?” I say.

We all go to see what’s up. I look into the bathroom and there’s Alex with his hands open, grasping at nothing but trying to find a hold on the nothingness that he exists in at this moment. He can’t believe it.

The tub is normal and straight. The sink is normal. The toilet. Oh my Gawd and poor Alex! The toilet is at a 33 ½ degree angle to everything on the earth. It’s fucking crooked. Personally, I’ve never seen anything like this. Their is no reason for the throne to be placed so. So why? Why is it like this. Why? Could it be the currently tortured Alex is right? Could it be that it was placed like this JUST to drive him crazy? I’m starting to be drawn into his paranoia.

We are tired guys. We would love to be in the arms of the soft ones we need. We are all looking forward to going home. “Beaucoup, beaucoup”!

We need food so we go to Shoeless Joe’s. It’s a resto in the hotel. It’s nice and pub like. The staff are friendly and nice. Savaighn was very nice to us and told us that the Kathedral, where we’re playing should be a good show as it is a popular place. Good.

We toured across Canada for a reason which I’ll get to at the end of this. But right now I’ve got to sleep. Only three shows left. Tomorrow night, Ottawa and then Brantford. I’ve played Brantford in the past and the place is out of control. This should be a great gig. At the very least we’ll play with a local band and their friends. But there is the specter of A PAUL HUSBAND show – the same guy who gave us the amazing Imaginary Friend gig in Edmonton (St. Albert). But we’re going to check on this one – make sure the venue knows and the local bands are going to be there.

Jon wants to sleep in the van so he goes out there.

I close my eyes. There is nothing I feel but tired.

We drive out of town and go by the Husky for breakfast. This the Husky where, on the way out West, the guy came running out asking if we’re a band and couldn’t give us his money fast enough for our merch. He was there. He asked how it all went…

What do you say to that question? How to you put it all into one word? How do you cover all the angles with one phrase?

“Oh yeah, it was… great.” Sigh – that’s all anyone wants to hear anyway. It just doesn’t come close to covering all the angles.

We have breakfast at the Husky. We all have straight up breakfasts and they are all reliable and loyal. Not slutty like an Egg McMuffin – fucking morning meal whore.

Jon starts his campaign to have the next tour booked in Husky’s across the West.

Zasta will probably be still eating his breakfast by that time – he takes the longest of all of us to finish. Bite. Knife and fork down. Begin silent contemplation upon the “belle fesses” of the girl out in the parking lot. Share said observations. Pick up knife and fork. Oh! Put them down again. Take a sip of water. Pick up knife and fork, take piece of food (I’m finished my meal at this point) rest it on the side of the plate to remark on a song playing on the Husky speakers. Take the fork of food and slowly, ever so slowly – I SAID SLOWLY!!!! Devour it. Repeat.

Alex can’t stand the fact that the pictures on the wall are all crooked. He hates it. Can’t deal with it. All through the tour he’s been trying to straighten pictures. And while I admit ALL of these Husky pictures on the walls are crooked he’s obsessing mightily about them. He looks away – but I see him looking back again and again.

If you were to take a snap shot a this point – and we don’t – we stopped taking pics for some reason – you’d see four very tired performers who don’t have much left in the reserve tanks.

We’re tired.

We start the 692 km drive – and their’s no stopping. This is going to be a close one. But we have to do it. It was booked so we’re there.

The Truth of Entertainment:

The Show must go on. This is one of those statements that covers it all. From being too tired to move (get out there fucker – and do it right!) to losing you’re personal and private life (sign the damn divorce papers and get out there you fucker – and play it like you mean it). If it’s booked for you – which is why booking is so important – because professional performers MUST play no matter what – then the Show must go on.

We are tired. All of us. We can’t drive more than an hour and a half each before the nodding off and the delirium/hallucinations start. A bear running upright across the highway carrying a stack of pizzas and wearing a trucker hat shouting “Beer for the bear!” is a pretty sure sign you need to give the other guy a shift at the wheel.

Drive and drive and drive again. And then drive and drive and drive some more. No time to stop. Just a snack and then the SWAT team exit into the Banyion.

So tired.

We roll into Sault Ste-Marie and drive to the club. We’re only a half hour late – we took some dangerous chances but we’re there in a perfectly acceptable amount of time to load in, sound check and then chill before we play. We’re just hoping we’ll all hold out. We WILL all hold out.

We see the venue.

!!!
???

It’s locked up tight – and we even look around the side and back thinking it was like The Black Pirates in Thunder Bay.

No. There is no one there.

Okay. Breathe. We’ve driven 8 hours to be here. You’re falling down tired. Stress and Anger wouldn’t help the situation. Call the guy and find out what’s going on. After all our booking guy must have called ahead to find out for us. Right? Maybe the booking guy told our record company that the gig was moved and we need to check in with AMP.

I do. Gig not moved. I phone SSM promoter: Here’s what he said:

“No, that gig was cancelled – I told Sam your booking guy last week. Geeze, I don’t know what to tell you. That really sucks.”

Yeah. Sucks.

I have given and will give anyone more than enough chances to rise to the level of professionalism that I want to see from the people I work with. This is too much.

As a band we have lost all confidence in the booking guy. Showing up on the other side of Canada and the club doesn’t even know who you are – or that their is a show! A show where all the local acts have dropped out so it’s cancelled. A cancelled show because the 14 year old boy that it was booked with was out playing hockey. A cancelled show (that the booker new about for a week!!!) that we’ve just driven like bastards to get to and is locked up – cancelled. You tell me what I should do about this?

We have some very good, dark and unspeakable ideas of what we can do about this when we get back to Montreal.

Nothing to do but go to the fucking Hotel. The Travelodge again. Ha! We have tour support but we chose the wrong booking agent. Damn – how hilariously ironic.

Well, if their’s no place to play, let’s find some fun. Ummm. There’s no one on the streets. At all. Okay, that’s cool. Lets go to a resto. There’s bound to be something going on. Uh, no restos open. The Sault is dead as butter.

Wait a minute! A Boston Pizza. The food is better than the last one – maybe because we’re just all so tired and hungry but it tasted just fine.

We go back to the Hotel.

Things just float away from me.

Time: I have no idea where I am now. It’s a quiet place and I don’t want to be here. It’s dark. Why are there no street lights here? Why are their no people? Why does the clock run backwards? Is this what I want from life? Is this paying for something that no one else can have?

Friends: It’s been years since I’ve seen anyone I know. My other personalities are with me. Wait! They’re not imagined! It’s Zasta, Alex and Jon. We talk less now. Too tired. Adrift, staring at each other in the leaky hull of a ghost ship. We’re dead. This is purgatory. We’re paying for sins. What sins? Oh! The sins against the relationships that we’re so far from right now.

Reality: Howl. I hear demons chattering under the floor. Everyone has this, right? Everyone does what they want and is accepted by those around them, right? We all think life is fucking great, hilarious, dramatic, tragic, wonderful and amazingly sad, right? We all love color. We all love each other. We all have our own thing going and have room for everyone else, right? We’re all alright, aren’t we? You understand me right this moment, right? Please?

My eyes close and I think I’m very far from everything and I want to come back now.

Up and at ‘em boys! And yes, I’m talking about my nuts! Ha! Just kiddin’. I kid cuz I love – you know this about me!

We have to drive from Kenora to Thunder Bay. That’s 411 km! Not counting construction and pit stops.

This gig better be there! We’re assured by AMP that it is. When she says it’s on – it’s on.

Anyway, we get up, get ready and move out. I get in the Banyion and put the key in. I turn the ignition and…

Oh shit. The battery is dead. Someone left the dome light wheel in the “on” position! Argh! I’ve said a million times to make sure it’s off! Arghhhhhh!

I’m good at the big things – not these little things. I lose it! I jump out of the Banyion in a rage. But I just slam the door and say “Aslrirleefal!!!” Which is basically – I hate the fucking world – in language of Anger. But I’ve been taught to recognize the sudden onslaught of negativity that pounds down on me. “You’re such a loser!” “Why are you even here!” “See! You can’t do anything right”. I would have had a fit right there and then (I know this because that’s exactly what I used to do) and made as many people as I could feel bad about leaving the light on, bad about themselves and bad about life in general as I could. After all – if I feel like shit – so should you.

What a jerk I am. Or at least, was. I know this isn’t my fault or anyone’s fault – it’s just an oversight that could’ve happened to anyone. It simply happened. And I’m tired and I have unconquered feelings because of the lost show last night and this just makes me feel all the more powerless in this situation and susceptible to negativity. So this situation has in fact – nothing to do with me as a person. I am simply in the situation. Now, if I rage about it I’m a chump. I figure the best thing to do is deal with it.

I call CAA. “No problem for a tow truck. It should be there in 2 hours.”

??? !!!

Psychotic break #7

“You mutherfucking, goddamn piece of cunt discharge! Why am I paying membership fees? For you to suck cocks between calls?”

End of Psychotic break #7

Okay, okay, I don’t say that. But I want to. I figure that’s playing into taking things personally so I don’t say anything mean at all. I mean, it’s not going to take 2 hours because it’s me, right? It is going to take 2 hours because that’s how long it’s going to take.

“Really? 2 hours, eh? Okay. But do you think you could put a rush on it? We have to be in Thunder Bay to play tonight.” I say nicely.

She’ll do her best she says. I’m sure she will and I mean it.

God, I realize I might be making some progress with this Negative Thought Process Recognition after all.

I go out to the Banyion. Alex, Jon and Zasta are there. I sit down and say it’ll be two hours. They look as shocked as me. I tell them to go look for breakfast, but I have to stay here and wait – I don’t want to wait. I like having breakfast with these guys – it’s fun. You’d like it too if you had the chance. But they tell me they’ll go and grab something and bring it back so we can eat together.

I get an idea. I get up and run into the hotel. I ask the maintenance man if he can give me a boost. Before you know it we’re joking with the guys that drive up to boost the Banyion. They’re super great old guys that probably ice fish drunk and play cards with a nudie deck. Cool.

We’re on our way. But we have to keep the Banyion going. Got to charge up the battery.

We bullet down the highway – until we see a Kitchen Resto. One of those places that has nobody in it. Attached to a house – so you know the people who live there run the place. We stop there, leaving the Banyion running for the charge.

Inside it looks like a dusty log cabin. There are shelves of fishing tackle still in their packages from the ‘70’s, washed out from years of sunshine. There’s even an old Fender Guitar cable still in its package hanging on the shelf. Why it’s there I have no idea. Could it be that maybe one summer years ago, maybe 1979, Loverboy, April Wine, The Kings and a fresh faced Honeymoon Suite all passed by here and each one of ‘em asked if they had a speaker cable available cuz one of theirs was bum? The family running the place ordered one and then live music failed. Ha! Yeah, lets go with that story. It’s good.

Anyway in the dining room they have two kinds of tables. The one is the metal kind. The kind you expect to see. And the other (there are about four of these out of the 15 or so tables) is a hulking table and chair set made out of tree logs. They’re stripped of bark and sanded smooth. That’s it. Just big tree bones made into furniture. Like the Ontario Chain Saw massacre but for trees. I gotta sit on this – it looks like the king of the forest would sit here.

Another straight up great breakfast. Everyone loves the food. We talk about the TGON Record Launch coming up. I swear it’s going to be unlike any other Record Launch you’ve seen. And I know that now some people reading this know that when I say you’ve never seen anything like it – you better fucking believe it.

The older lady who runs the place knows everyone who comes in there except one guy who looks a little cranked up. He’s looking for a cigarette. Jon gives him one.

The guy’s a booker in Toronto and we exchange info so he can check us out cuz he’s wanting to bring in some heavy music – Hey, maybe that story about Loverboy and April Wine etc wasn’t too far off the mark. This place seems to attract us. Hmm, and I do need a speaker cable.

We hop back in the Banyion and hit the road. We don’t stop. Just for gas once and a wild piss now and then. Coffee sometimes. And then their was that tree that looked like an old man – had to check that out. Oh! And then we saw a big pile of rocks. That had to be looked at… Okay, we’re distracted really easily. But to tell the truth we whipped the Banyion on until she was frothing.

After a while the thoughts that pass through our minds become as blurry as the rush of trees, rocks, steams and rivers outside. Sometimes one thought takes shape and makes it into words. If they’re important enough we’ll say them out loud. We’re all pretty quiet tho.

So we drive and drive and drive
Looking for a place to die
When we had the whole thing held in place
I knew that it would break and break and break
So before the whole thing falls apart.
Before the never ending rain
Falls on us like memories
Makes me call your name
We’ll drive and drive and drive
And pretend that it’s all right.
No bloody ugly fucked up mess
Broken teeth, swollen lips
No damage in the head
No Heart completely dead.

It’s all blurry as I write this.

We get into Thunder Bay late. About 8:30. Usually we’d be loaded in and sound checking. Hope it’s all okay – but we lost an hour thanks to CP Rail and we lost another because of construction delays.

We find the address of the club. It’s called The Black Pirates. When we get there it doesn’t look good. We jump out and try all the doors. IT’S ALL LOCKED UP! WHAT THE FUCKING HELL!!!!??? I yell for a cell phone – “I’ll kill the bast…”

A vagrant (who incidentally looks exactly like a Pirate! Scarf on his head – big hoop earrings – beard. The only things he’s missing was a patch on his eye and a bird on his shoulder) comes up and says “If you’re looking for the club it’s around the corner”. We peek around the corner. Whew! Thar she blows! And there’s people there!

I give Bummy the Pirate 2 bucks for pointing us in the right direction. I also say – “It’s cool that your pointing out The Black Pirate and you totally look like a pirate yourself”. He didn’t understand. He didn’t think he looked like a pirate at all. Oh, well then, thanks for pointing out the club.

We walk up and are greeted like long lost friends. Wow! This place is awesome!

Onur – the owner – yes, that’s his name AND his title (we find out later it’s Turkish), is a big, cool mutha fucking rock dude who paid his dues playing in live bands and touring. So he knows the score. He started his club in May and already it’s THE place to Rock in T-Bay. He’s got a great sound system run by Shawn – the best sound guy in town. If you’re a serious act – this is the place to play. You’re welcomed like you’re meant to be there and this alone is worth making the trip.

Franz – the guy who booked us into the club is a music lover who treats us with professionalism and genuine respect. We will definitely be calling him to book us shows in the area. Great guy and thanks again for booking us, man.

So that same night Bad Religion is playing somewhere else. They’re expecting 1500 but not quite 500 show (we’re told) but we’re told the club will wait until that’s over so the spill off will come to The Black Pirates. That’s cool. We have about 3 hours to go check in to the hotel and eat.

We’re starting to get the idea that Thundarian Bayers are really great people.

We go to the Travel Lodge by the airport. It’s clean and because we’re moving out to Sault Saint Marie the next day we don’t care if it has a pool. I think it does. We take our stuff in and I have to move the Banyion. I put the key in and…

Thump! That’s the sound of my head banging on the steering wheel. Awww Christ! And by Christ I’m referring to Teddy Christ who with his business partner B.J. Allah have a garage in Montreal where they said they could fix this.

Awww fuck. Why now?? Why not, right? I try and try. I go to the battery and jiggle wires that do something that only Hot Holly the Mechanic would know about. I go back in the cab and whisper a little prayer to you baby.

Yes! It starts! That’s the power of pussy! I mean prayer.

I drive it to park and shut her down. I start it again and no problem. I’m gonna have to do something about this sooner or later. This isn’t ambivalence, this is laziness.

I’m feeling pretty deflated at the moment. So when I go into the room and the guys are there I tell them that I feel alone in this. They point out the fact that they didn’t know that the Banyion wasn’t starting because they had left already. I explained that I didn’t want them to do anything but be aware that I was feeling this.

Zasta quickly picked up what I was talking about. He’s a very intuitive person to begin with and we’ve been talking about these kinds of things for years now so he zeroed in on it. “Well, you’re right, we can only say collectively that – that sucks.” We all laugh and that’s all I needed. Just the band on my side.

But Zasta did more than just solidify our situation together. He started this Ultra-energy kind of vibe going. And when TGON is like this, time and space becomes our bitch.

Time to eat. We go to Montana’s – the same one we went to on the way through last time. This time it’s at night. It’s all you can eat wings for 5 bucks or something and the place is packed – but it’s packed with all these hot little cheerleader girls. Everywhere we turn we just chat up anyone walking by. It’s sort of like sharks with too much food in the water. You stop eating and just swim around looking.

We have exactly 25 minutes to eat. It’s going to be a thirty min wait. Awww fuck it! Ha! What a jip! We go to Kelsey’s down the street. It’s quiet. Too quiet. We’re loud tho.

There we meet Jessica – she tells us that The Black Pirates is a great little bar. She goes there often. Nice – Onur has only been open since May and already people are up talking about it. Sweet. We give Jessica two stickers. Too bad she doesn’t finish until late.

We get lost four times in the pitch dark of the streets. But we finally get down to The Black Pirates.

People are there. Nice. We set up the merch. Alex and me play a game of pool. The first band Legoman Haircut goes up. They do their thing and people like them.

The next band go up and start their American Stoner Heavy Rock. The drummer from that band, Jim Laukka gives us a CD from his other band Faceless Hulk. Choice track on that one…”you’d have to be a cow to stomach my load.” Hilarious.

Me and Alex go out to the Banyion that we hitched in the front of the club. Jon’s there smoking.

Two guys from the first band, Legoman Haircut, Kyle and Lion-Oh! Start to talk to us about the plan for their band. We talk about the road, selling a lifestyle and recording. Lion-oh – a really tall guy with a black beard talks like he’s venting in therapy. He tells me about wrestling with the 5 knobs on a plug-in EQ – clearly 4 knobs too many. He believes they were invented just to diminish his self worth. I’m dying. He’s hilarious. Should be a stand up. The only knobs he’d be working with there would be the hecklers.

We go in and after a few songs it’s time to play. So we do.

Awesome reaction to the tension Alex and I cultivate in the first part of the show. When we resolve the tension through violence in Lobotomatronic and the song ends we shake hands TGON style and smile. The audience actually, collectively went “Awwwwww!” and I hear about four people say “Their friends again!” I love Thundarian Bayers! Same species – different planet.

We finish. What a fantastic group we played to. Some came up to me speechless with just “thank you”s. They couldn’t believe we did what we did. All of them were blown away. Zasta was overwhelmed by the recognition of his talent by T-Bay. The fact he can play what he plays and can sing at the same time – AND perform (because that’s different from playing, right kids?) just knocked them all out. And rightly so! He’s Zasta.

While packing up, me and Shawn the sound guy talk shop. Studios, mic pres, comps, mics and technique. Great guy and a top notch sound man.

It was nice to do this gig. Our confidence in the booking agent was at an all time low so we needed this. Good job on this one.

Someone from the second band comes up to me and says that their are lots of sections in our music. That it’s very loud and heavy. He says, “Yeah, I get that you guys perform and put on a crazy show. You know, you got all that stuff down.” Ummm. Okay. But what’s your point? He continues and I’m not sure if he’s criticizing us or giving me a play by play of what we just did. He then says “You should groove it out more. Like my band. Cut down the number of sections. You know, like, I don’t even know what to call what you guys do. It’s all… I don’t know…It’s abstract. Yeah, it’s like abstract you know?” Ha! Like art, fucker? Are you telling me that it’s abstract like art. Like those moments in life that are too good to describe? Ha! I’m smiling at him when I say, “Well, maybe your music needs more sections in it?” He shakes his head “No, my music isn’t like that. It wouldn’t work.” Of course he totally missed my ironic point. Why would I do what he’s doing when he’s doing it? Why would anyone want to do what I’m doing when I do it better than anyone else because it’s mine? Still, he’s a really nice guy – and he has a solid “groove” band that won’t surprise you with anything you haven’t heard before… He’s just out of his depth. Here there be monsters.

Onur invites us for a drink and tells us his road stories – about the sub zero stall on Hwy 11 (yeah the one we accidentally took an hour out of our way on the way to Vancouver). We drink and laugh. Life on the road: Our friends for tonight, our regular bar for the night, our home until morning.

We say good-bye to everyone with promises from both sides of rocking shows and parties down the line.

We go back to the hotel. Alex goes to sleep in the Banyion. Everyone feels they’ve done a great job tonight. Me too. You can feel the great, fat, satisfied energy of it.

Why is it when you’re up in the stars that it’s the only time you can see how much garbage you covered your earth with? Do you understand what I’m trying to say here? Someone told me I’m going to wind up alone. I don’t believe she was telling me the truth but at the time she meant it. How far along do I have to go before I “wind up…” anything at all.

I’m alone and I close my eyes.

The phone rings. My two little girls saw a show about bending spoons with your mind. 14 bent spoons later… “Did you do that with your minds?” They said “Sort of.” Gotta give it to them for the effort.

I fall asleep after I put the phone down. I open my eyes at 11am! I never sleep that late. Someone connected to me must have gotten up at 9 then, because life is balance. It works that way.

I shower and Zasta calls from the Zoo. Big after show party. Rock and roll and no sleep ‘till Brockville or Steinbach or whatever the hell town in Manitoba. Gonna meet them over for breakfast.

Caroline and Kristina want to go too, Caroline told me, so I call. Such energy in the morning! “I’ll be there in 15 minutes.” I say.

I pat the Banyion on the nose as I walk by. She’s been acting up. Needs some attention. I fire up the beast and away I go. Whooo-hooo!

The last place I lived in Winnipeg before I moved was right behind Caroline’s apartment downtown. All I remember about the place was recording a killer drum sound in a utility closet and the endless number of fire alarms in the middle of the night.

There’s Caroline sitting on the step. I pick her up. What a little rock star with her big sunglasses on! We go over two streets to pick up Kristina. We drive over the bridge and we’re in The Osborne Village.

It’s the “colorful” street in Winnipeg. It’s fun there all right. And that’s probably, mostly due to the Osborne Motor Inn that is plunked down at the end of the street. It’s known, as I said a while ago – as the Zoo. This is the Foufounes Electriques of the West. It’ll smack your ass and call you a sissy if you go there expecting anything other than REAL. It’s dirty, it’s rock, it’s sexy and seedy. But we love it.

I place the Banyion in the front drive of the Zoo and we all meet up and go to Stella’s. Alex wants to work out – like usual but he’ll always opt for some food if it’s available. Once again – the best breakfast place in Winnipeg. Their food is all free range and fresh. It’s not any more expensive than anywhere else you could go for a large portion, tasty and healthy breakfast. Ham omelet, eggs, yogurt and granola, fruit cup. All straight up breakfast tuck. Excellent. I notice that Tammy puts Ketchup on everything. My dad used to do that, so does Alex. I’ve always found this a strange but endearing habit.

Tom (Do it Now!) suddenly comes in. He grabs a root beer and an orange juice. I didn’t ask him if it was good. He seemed to like it though. Yeesh.

Now we need to do some laundry. So we go to a nearby Laundromat. Everyone comes along. It’s funny to watch as these girls sit outside and TGON is in the Mat doing their laundry.

But there we are. A happy, dysfunctional, sexy group of friends. Connections looking for anything to hold onto. Searching for meaning. No shadows in the bright sunshine. Some times it looks like diamonds reflected in our eyes.

Tom is using Kung-fu to kick wasps away and pick up girls walking by. He doesn’t score a hit on either.

A little walk to the Forks with Caroline – I’ve never seen it. I moved before it was there. Very pretty but like usual time is pulling me by the scruff of the neck.

Banyion loaded up and ready to go. And it’s “see you later”. A silent wave of a hand, a sad but lovely smile and then the sound of that stupid thing that makes life unfair. See you later.

We seem to have lost the small set of keys to the Banyion. Zasta figures that he must have left them in the room at the Zoo. S’ok. I’m sure we’ll find them. Besides Tom has parked his truck in front of the Zoo so he’ll grab a ride back. In two minutes were back there.

Holly is at the front desk looking so adorable.

We go up and look for the key. Nothing. We come back down and I say my last good bye to Holly. I hope she finds someone who recognizes who she is. She’s something.

Outside Tom opens the door to his truck and puts the key in the ignition. He then gets out to tell us that he’s going to call his brother to borrow his car and come to Kenora with us for our show tonight. He closes the door to his truck and immediately falls to his knees. His arms outstretched to the heavens and a wordless scream emanates from him. Actually he just yelled “Fuck! I locked the keys in my truck! Fuck!” Alex and I are in hysterics.

The next thing I know I see him using a coat hanger to try and unlock it. It’s not working at all until…

Jon Fact #4
Jon can open any locked automobile in less than 14 seconds.

So Tom gets his keys. We pile in the Banyion and follow Tom until he turns off. We keep going. We have a show in Kenora.

We buy Pringles select and coffee and don’t stop until we get there. We’re warned from The Record Company back home that this gig may not pan out because our booking guy can’t get in touch with the guy he booked it with. And then, to make matters worse, instead of trying to figure it out himself, he gave the job to our Record Company to fix. So, AMP (our life line to reality) called to fix the mess. Unfortunately the guy who was putting on the show in Kenora wasn’t there (so said his dad) but who can blame him – hockey comes first – ESPECIALLY FOR A 14 YEAR OLD BOY!

Sigh. We all sigh.

So, not surprisingly, when we get there the place is all locked up tight and dark.

We drive to the hotel. Then it’s to Boston Pizza. We look at each other and eat our salty food. Can’t complain though. It’s the only thing open.

We go back to the Hotel. Alex goes to sleep in the Banyion. He says it’s the best sleep ever. I understand. I slept in the back of my other Rock Van for years. All great sleeps.

I lay with my eyes open for a moment. I think of what is in front of me. I think of what is behind me. What I want and what I need. I think of you…

I close my eyes.

Sigh.

I get up and go to the spa. Dip in the pool and sit in the steam room – the schfitz – like they call it in the movies. Ohhhhhhh, nice!

Zasta calls and says they’re going for breakfast. Sleep came late but the boys got a few hours. Those days of cheap hotel rooms – the Maximum Rock ‘n Roll are gone for me. My cheap hotel room is in my head. My bourbon soaked spirit can attest to it. But I totally understand why they want to sleep over there – it’s dangerous. It’s alive.

So I have to go and do a few things. My Fender guitar is acting up so I have to find a music store (I know where their’s one near Corydon). I need electronic contact cleaner too. Canadian Tire? Radio Shack? Do they still have that here in Winnipeg? Or is it the Source now?

I go over the bridge listening to Broken, our record – god, it’s so good. And I remember each note being composed, performed, recorded. All of it. And over there I see the path that me and Erin used to walk down when we got off school. I had such a crush on her. She never knew it – It was a secret. I don’t have those now. Nothing that’s mine.

I turn left on Corydon. I remember my old friend Mike used to live right there. And my close friend Bruce (R.I.P.) used to live right over there. We used to go walking down to Polo Park. We used to walk to Keith’s house. We used to listen to all his fantastic LP’s. Read every word written on the gatefold jackets. Fume because his record player didn’t turn backwards. I think it did but Vic, Keith’s dad, just didn’t want us fucking with his turntable. I remember Vic walking into the room and looking at all of us with our mouths wide open listening to some new band or new record from an old band and saying “Kids these days know two words – wow and fuck.”. If you haven’t noticed. I still use them because they are really great words. Wow! Fuck!

And there – Hey I actually know that guy! Wait a minute! It’s Tom (Get out! Get out now!)!!! There are the guys! I bump into them on Corydon – by accident! Wow! What are the fucking chances of that. Fuck! They still haven’t eaten so they’re going for food. I have to accomplish these missions I’m on so I say I’ll meet ‘em all back at the G Hotel. And I drive off.

I’m driving along and I see the Spa/salon that Caroline works at. I’ll drop in. Ha! I didn’t call her first! So I walk in and the whole place turns to look at me. I love the attention. The distraction I am. They say she’s with a client. I just want to say hi and make sure she’s coming to the show tonight. I wait. Finally she sends someone out saying that she’s still got half an hour with the client. No prob, I just peek in the back and wave. She tells me she’ll be there tonight. Cool. I am pretty sure I was totally disruptive to the establishment. Ha! I love that punk side of me!

I hop back into the Banyion and make my way over to the music store. It’s customer appreciation day. They have a band set up – BBQ hamburgers and extra staff on. I ask if someone can help me with my guitar. I’m playing tonight at the Zoo and it’s giving me some problems. Ironically no one can help me! I fucking love irony! Customer appreciation day and they don’t help me. It’s so fucking hilarious.

I go back to the G Hotel – Just in case the boys are back there already. They aren’t yet so I go for dinner alone at Grapes again. Alone, alone, alone. What a state to be in. Today, I like it. Beaucoup, beaucoup.

The hostess – always a hot girl – you know it. She asks where I’d like to sit. I shrug. She says that Bree is bored in the lounge so I’ll give her something to do – that came out wrong but I wasn’t in the mood to tell her that. She seats me at the same table I was at last night. I face the bar and the whole lounge.

There’s Bree. She is a kick ass platinum blond – she looks like a porn star crossed with a debutante. I order. She’s nice but self conscious. This I don’t understand. She’s wearing almost nothing and is clearly the bright light in the room. Why the looking at the ground and self-conscious walk? You wonder these things when you’re alone. You also wish things like “I wanna be her chair with a tongue” or “I’d drink her bath water”. I eat the same meal I had yesterday. Greek salad and a hunk of salmon. It’s good.

I go back to the Hotel. The boys are back. I go for a swim with Tom and Zasta. Back into the steam room. It is Hot! Like walking into a wall of burn. Hot and cold. Alive and dead. It’s time to move out to the Zoo.

We arrive. Right off the bat we meet Steve from Dreadnaut – great guy from Thompson MB. We talk a bit – other lives and tragedy. Straight up nice guy – nicer for letting us play with him. I thank him.

We’re on first so we set our gear. We do this on auto-pilot. We’re ready to go.

I set down the merch. We’re running out. Especially the purple shirts (ha!) and the women’s hot shorts. I sit down with a water that Randi-Lee (one of the hot Zoo bar girls) gives me.

And there they are. Angie and Kristi show up. And they’re as sexy as ever. They’re helping us with the merch. When we come back we’re taking them out to dinner.

Caroline shows up (she a breath of fresh air). Just someone familiar. Kristina her friend too. Then Juice and Tara.

A moment for me? No. I suppose not. That would be asking too much of this life – any of the lives I’ve lived with Josephine, Juliette, Melisande or any of the rest that have left scars on my psyche. This should be no different.

The place is filling up and we’re on. Full circle from where we started, remember? So much has changed. And I have learned nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just changed. How can that be?

I look at Caroline who wonders why I’m not on stage. I say, watch. And I point to the stage just as Zasta once again aligns the time line of our lives. Now seconds beat at 200 bpm. Time is ours. Alex pulls the spine of the earth and she moves because of it. Jon fills the air with electricity. Lightning of sound.

And I walk out and straight to the front of the audience. I open my arms wide. All of them are mine. Whether they like it or not.

I walk to Alex. He hates me as much as I hate him. He hates to even look at me. I don’t care why. But I hate him back. With everything I am. I’ll deal with it in exactly three songs…

I walk over to Jon. He’s intense, grinning. I can’t help but grin back. Tonight is something different – we’re all different. We all have learned nothing.

I pick up my Kate and hold her. She’s with me 100% of the way. She’s an angel. She’s a devil. And she loves it when I make her scream.

I walk over to Zasta. He’s too busy controlling time and changing lives to bother with me. Wait a minute. No he’s not. He snaps his eyes up and sees me waiting to be pushed too far. It only takes a moment. Four cut time pulses in our lives. Our lives that will never be the same again…

One: Like I’ve said, it helps when the friends you have are talented muthafuckers. Two: But this is beyond that. Three: This is to the very core of what drives us. Four: This is the hand of fate clenching into a fist and…

The show is over.

From now on if you want to know what we’re like live… Come and see us. I can’t explain it – and I’m pretty damn good at explaining things, don’t you think? It is sight, sound and performance. It is love, hate and pleasure. It is shaking our fists at God and at ourselves. It’s who we are and who we’re becoming. It’s absolutely Now. And it is everything.

Alex and I don’t hate each other anymore – we’re perfectly fine. Zasta is quiet. Balanced once again. Jon is comfortable. We have learned absolutely nothing.

We pull off our gear in record time. And we tetris up the Banyion. And who should appear beside me but Hollie the girl we played to acoustically in our rooms the last time we were here. But she isn’t looking like any housekeeping staff girl I’ve ever seen. Holy fuck! This girl is a knock out! She tells me that she could smell me for a week after I gave her the two cheek Quebecois kisses. I give her a big hug. I’m from Montreal.

Caroline is with me. She tells me that from the first scream she was done. She loved it. That made me so happy to hear. Fuck conditional happiness. It was so fucking great to hear that someone that I wanted to get it, got it. Wow! Fuck!

And now I’m tired. I go and tell Zasta that I’ve had it. I’m going back to the Hotel. I leave.

I’m in a fantasy.

I’m in the moment once again. Can I have nothing to myself at all? What belongs to me? I’m stretched so thin. But I think I can reach you. Over time and distance – you are there and I am here. My moments alone are moments with you. And I’m keeping them. They’re mine. I’m a private guy. I told you this. You’re mine. And that’s that.

I fall asleep. Dreaming about being anyone but me.

Their are no private moments any longer. All time is a shared relationship. You can be found. You will be found. You cannot be anonymous anymore. I cannot hide. Not from my behavior, not from my past, not from my name. I cannot have a secret or a moment to myself. Just my jealousy talking, but I wish you were here. I want a moment alone with you that no one knows about. Just you and me. We can shout about it later.

-Sigh-

We get into Winnipeg after a few stops for coffee and giving a sticker or two to cute gas station girls.

We check into the Greenwood Inn on Wellington ave, near the airport. What a great Hotel. One of the nicest yet. Ritzy – as they say. In the lobby I notice that there are five weddings happening. It’s filled with hot looking girls wearing dressy dresses. They all think they’re their favorite movie stars. All the guys look uncomfortable in their suits. Rather be hunting or fixing something. Ever look at your girl’s eyes shithead. She’s fucking amazing. Assholes, all of us.

We’re hungry so we go around the corner to Grapes. A resto that me and my brother and my friends that all grew up here used to go to – except ours was on Main street and had too many spoken dreams that never happened – except for me. I did what I said. I’m still doing what I said. (I hate everything right now). But my salad is good. And the waitress is hot – as usual. They were hot when I was a fucking idiot of a teenager too. Now that I’m just a fucking idiot their’s no difference.

Juice calls and lets us now their’s a show on that we should go to. Meet some people. I don’t want to go. I never want to go…

Psychotic Episode #6 (for Tara)

The points of light below me, tracing some brail that I can’t read because I feel nothing but alone. Plate glass holds me from suicide. I’m so high above the street. Without you. I just simply watch this hive. I stand with a Jack, no ice. Straight – I call it. I drink too much. I know. But at the end of all this, the richness of this moment matches the soft ambience of this penthouse, matches the taste of my drink. Here I feel a connection to these lights. I’ve lost all connection to all the other lights of my life so these ones on the other side of the glass and so far below me are all I have left. And now Blackout! How about that? The whole fucking city goes dark.

End Psychotic Episode #6

We get ready to go out. The Banyion takes us into the city and parks herself on River ave near the place called the Cavern Pub.

Their’s lots of people there. I walk in and Juice and Tara spot me. Ahhhh! Yay! Hugs. Tara is always a sight for sore eyes. She’s special to all of us – she lived through Calgary 2008 with us and that’s that.

But me – aw, you’ve just got to put up with me until I leave – And I’m going to leave pretty damn quickly because I’m watching everyone wasted, falling down drunk. I’m in a rage. The Devil has nothing on me. He’s a pansy. A sissy. I want to rip someone apart. The devil owes me.

I’m introduced to many people. Everyone seems to like me. Stop it! Why don’t they stop it! Leave me alone. I’m introduced to a very nice girl named Kristina and her best friend Caroline. Caroline’s eyes stop me raging. Is a moment like that private? In the middle of a crowd – silence for one second. But then it all crashes in. And I’ve got to get out of there…

I’m outside ready to walk up the stairs – and Tom (Get to the choppa!) our go-to guy, comes in! I love seeing this guy! He should have come with us on the tour. He’s crucial for a fucked up time.

I take him into the club and I get pulled into conversations and exaggerations and flirtations. Her smile goes from strange to familiar quickly. I have to leave.

I walk up the stairs and go grab a coffee down the street. I meet a very petite and wayyyyy too tired Argentinean woman asking me which Starbucks coffee I’d like and that she’s acting happy and energetic but the fact is she usually is the one telling actors what to do because she’s studying to become a film director and is moving to California or something… I like her black curly hair and accent. I leave with a wave and head to the Banyion. And their is the traffic guy calling the tow-truck. He gives me a 34 dollar ticket and says that the tow-truck was going to be there in 5 min. Hmmm. I feel that my fucking issues with hyper-awareness might not be so bad – I saved the Banyion from a night in solitary – a night without us.

Awww fuck! I forgot to tell The Gods that I’m leaving. I think Alex has his stuff. He wants a bed at the Zoo – tired of the cot or sleeping with Zasta or Jon. Don’t blame him at all.

I walk in. “There you are!” about 14 people say to me. I have to leave. I’m followed by Tom and Caroline and Kristina. Smokers.

Caroline is a very beautiful, blue eyed French girl. She talks like she’s in a movie. She doesn’t know that but she does. Some Bardot flick where everyone is glamorous and actually say “Ha, ha, ha!” to the sky. Anyway, we talk. I calm down. She works at a Spa/Salon, cats, dogs, Winnipeg, I’m from here, remember? We lived almost across the street from each other. Went to the same 7/11. I hated it here my whole life. I don’t hate it so much now.

See, no private moments. No secrets. I can’t have those. A connection that calmed me. Brought me back to myself. She calls me by my name. Not Schrecker.

We move over to the Zoo. I see my friend Laura, hot little Laura from last time. This time she’s hurt. Her moment is secret tho. She tells me what the problem is and I give her a hug. I don’t like seeing my friends hurting but she’s in her life.

I follow everyone inside and that’s it. I don’t want to be there anymore. Caroline is leaving too. I walk her to her car and she drives me to the Banyion.

I go back to the room and psychotic things are coming true. I open the curtains and I see lights from buildings on the other side of the window pain. I feel totally alone and totally on top of the world. I am in the richest moment I’ve ever lived through – and I’ve lived through so many, baby. You know I have. But this moment is ALL MINE! And their’s no one with me to share it. No one person to tell any secret to.

I think I fall asleep but I may have died, finally and after all.

We get up and ready to go. We drive out of town and go to a Husky resto. Breakfast is simple but delicious. Zasta had steak and eggs and was amazed at the meat. It was great he said. I have my three eggs over easy and hash browns with toast. Great! Jon has a huge omelette. He says it’s very good. Alex has ham and eggs. The ham is too salty and he’s sure he heard his eggs say that he was a psycho but other than that it was good.

I’m in the backspace of the Banyion. I don’t want to drive through the prairies – I’m from here and, like it did years ago, it suffocates me. It makes me feel like I’m drowning. That’s one of the major differences between prairies and ocean side dwellers. If you fall into the ocean you die so quickly. Mercifully fast it will pull you down. It will fill your lungs and that’s it. The prairies will drown you for a lifetime. Will choke you with dust and chaff until you barely breathe – but you get just enough air for one more day. One more day to dream about a life somewhere else, finding a love that reaches up to the universe and connects you with everything. And today the sun is shining which is even worse. I hated the sun when I lived here. I worshiped the rain, those churning dark skies that would cry all over me. But here the sun is just a hard slow death without forgiveness. I close my eyes and shut out these strangling memories of this flat nothing – this place that broke my father’s back, broke my mother’s mind and wrecked my whole fucking past.

I open my eyes and we are in Regina. It’s 35C. No respite from the sun. No trees. We go to the Hotel. A Howard Johnston’s. There is a small pool with a spa. It’s also under renovations but they’re so friendly it totally makes up for it. We feel sorry for them because the key lock system is down. The whole place is locked but they have to take you to the rooms and let you in themselves. Their are no keys. So no matter what time you get back they have to open the door for you. Yikes.

We’re in the room and I want to go for a swim. I change and make my way over to the pool. There are two girls there. Kelsey and Tyler. They’re having cannon ball, summersault and holding-yer-breath competitions. They insist I’m in. After a few minutes Zasta shows up and is initiated into their games too. He does 6 summersaults but I do the biggest cannon ball. Both Kelsey and Tyler are very impressed with us. They don’t care at all that we play in a band. But then 10 year olds have a completely different outlook on life – They’re so cute and hilarious and make me totally homesick.

We get ready to go to the club – called The Club. It’s easy to find. We go in and talk to a guy who says the show is expected but no one is there yet. We need to talk to Carla, he tells us. She’s the woman running things tonight. Okay. So, we have time for dinner. The guy tells us about a great little vegetarian resto called The 13th Avenue Café and we plow over there.

This was the best meal I’ve had so far. The presentation was fantastic and made me want to eat the great food. Hummus, baba ganouj, olives and falafel. Fantastic! Zasta has something similar except it wasn’t falafel it was tabouleh. Excellent! Alex and Jon, sad because they haven’t got dead cows anywhere around them, have a chicken sandwich each. They say they’re fresh and tasty. Alex says the reflection at the bottom of his plate is menacing him so he would have rather had matt dishes then shiny ones. But that aside, it is a terrific dinner and is all under budget! If you go to Regina you must eat at The 13th Avenue Café. It’s a small place but it has a relaxed vibe, friendly staff (they say things like – “You cleaned the plate! You must have been hungry!”) and the most spectacular fuel that will make your body run smoothly.

We head back to the Club. We want to drive in beside the front door but pylons block it. Their’s a guy who sits in his car and who gets out to talk to us. We can go into unload but the trains go by here so you can’t park. Umm, okay. So he moves the pylons and we drive in.

We unload our gear.

Carla is inside and she’s very nice. She tells me that this is our show so we need to supply everything – door person, etc. What? This wasn’t told to us by our booking agent. He simply told us we needed to rent the room and that once the rental was covered by the door the rest would be ours. Sigh. At least the local bands playing with us had time to bring their friends…

…the local bands (great guys all of ‘em) weren’t told about the show until the previous after noon when they were contacted on MySpace by our booking agent. They keep saying with sympathy “You’re booking guy is royally boning you guys!” and “Holy lick! You’re paying a guy to set this up? You gotta rethink you’re plan buddy.” Now, I can’t argue with their sentiment, but honestly, if you know anything about me and TGON, you know we’ve got our shit together. Our business is like our kung-fu – top shelf. It is very difficult to remain positive about an associate or hired agent when this is happening more and more – and it doesn’t seem to affect him either way.

Carla – the very professional and kind woman who was in charge for the night also seemed very disappointed in our booking agent. And more concerned because we aren’t the only band that he booked with her and if this is the fate of our band on this night, what of the other bands he has coming through her doors?

Karma is karma. Everyone will get what’s coming to them. At this point it’s beyond my control – if this upsets anyone – do your fucking job.

I’m smiling as people tell me how comedians and poets are the only people who use this room. How that in their words, “You came all the way to Regina and you’re playing here?” How a great woman, the manager from the Gaslight Bar (“where ALL the rock bands who come through play”) told me the name of her booker there and that we would have had a packed place”. Wow. I’m smiling and nodding and staying positive. Back in the day I played pizza places because it was the only place that was available. I can play here and still rock… We’re here to play.

The girlfriend of one of the band members of “12” the first band is named Stephanie. She is so nice and pretty too. Lucky man plays the drums for his band. She volunteers to do the door for us. We need a quota to pay for the room – we all have our fingers crossed.

We set up the merch right by the door. We sell.

I’m sitting sipping a coffee when two women walk in. The tall statuesque woman who looks like a model but dressed like a sexy 80’s rocker smiles at me briefly. I have to ask her name. Maya. I tell her she’s beautiful. I’m not flirting. I’m just observing. It’s the same thing I do when I see Lake Louise, or a Dali, or hear the Nature Chord – I say “How beautiful”. But to me a woman is the ultimate work of art – complex, simple, stunning, inspiring, magical. I express it by saying a word that tires to put a frame around something – hey! It’s better than saying, “Well, for a bi-pedal being of the mammalian genus, you gush with feminine pulchritude”. Yeah, no. I’ll just call her beautiful. She thanks me for the compliment. Her friend she’s with is a wild red head named Kristin (sp?) and the girlfriend of the singer from “12”. He also saved the entire night by bringing his sound gear. He said he had showed up earlier and there was hardly a PA to be seen so he scooped up his and brought it with him. Now he’s a great guy.

Steph and I talk. Her sis is a popular folk singer in the west and her boyfriend is in the band – I bet she likes stray dogs. She’s very kind. And very pretty, but her boyfriend is a stand up guy. And she’s a banker! Yes. That’s right. A hot banker was our door person! I gave her a shirt for her trouble. It’s funny. We have so many different styles, especially for women. And she chose a straight up black Tee with the logo. I’d have thought she would have taken a purple one (almost sold out) or a blue tank top. Banker by day, rocker by night? Intriguing.

“12” plays their very first live show. Nathan the drummer has his first live show in years. And they’re just fine. They’re having a ball up there and so are we watching them. The bass player in particular looks like he’s on the moon – of course – ahem – he might be – Ha! Just kiddin’ buddy! Look over there!

A League of One are the other local band and they very graciously let us play second so we can play to the most people. Thanks for that – we owe you guys one!

We play and kick ass. This is one of the MAIN benefits of playing on the road. You become tight – grade 9 tight – really fucking fast. We growl through our set and I’m dead for it. But fuck did it feel good! And the sound was fucking awesome – Thanks again Andy!

A League of One plays. Okay, if you get a chance, you have to see them. They are, first of all, very talented players – second – they’re fucking hilarious (you have to hear “I’m just a lonely garbage man”). I was so entertained by their full on, meandering, fast, slow, ballad, cock-rock, saga, instrumental, mental love songs that were as loud as they were long as they were great to listen to. The guitar solos in particular were very well composed and very high level.

I go next door to the Exchange – “This is where bands that are really booked by real booking agents play” – so the locals tell me – once again I smile. I’m staying very positive about this. I have tools to deal with these blows to my self-esteem. I really don’t like being made to feel like I don’t know what I’m doing. In the past this would cripple me into a shit load of bad behavior and retaliation. Now, I can honestly say that it’s all okay. It is what it is. What they are saying doesn’t reflect on me or my band, just on the persons responsible.

So anyway – next door there is a Cuban band playing with a kick ass flutist. But it’s very middle of the road. So it’s boring – even though it’s exotic – I’ve seen many better Cuban bands. But it’s nice.

The Show ends and we grab the guitar stand that we lent to A League of One. We never lend gear so we clearly liked these guys. We bring all our gear out to the Banyion. The boys and girls from “12” are there placing bets on the fact that they don’t believe that we can tetris up the Banyion and still have room left over for us. “Holy Lick! Their’s no way you’re going to be able to put all that in there.” Nathan, Steph’s boyfriend said. Now we say Holy Lick – but only when we refer to a great looking girl.

Everyone around us is so nice and supportive. “If we had more time we would have packed the place!” and “When you guys come back – then we’ll do it right for ya!”. I grab our bottle of J.D. and pass it around – everyone is feeling great. Especially us. We’ve made great friends here in Regina and that’s why we’re here.

At the end of the day we exceeded our quota that we needed to meet at the door.

Carla is extremely nice to us. She gives us extra gas money. This is a woman we will always have no problem working with. She is great people and understands bands. She knows we are almost helpless but fierce about what we do. She didn’t like seeing us put into the position we were in tonight. I like her.

We go to Denny’s – like all good bands do. We look at the menu and ask the manager to come out. Nice girl named Sheela. We explain that we’d like a contact name cuz we need to get in the late night menu for the next time we release a record. It turns out Denny’s is rebranding itself. More edgy and late night. Where else do you go after things close at 2 am in the West? We have Nachos. Alex has a sandwich.

Once again we feel very spoiled to be from Montreal. Je t’aime ma belle ville.

We go back to the Ho-Jo’s. Our little friends Kelsey and Tyler told us the people who work there would NEVER let us into the hot tub late at night. (and yes they yelled “NEVER”!).

Meranda – who was there when we arrived earlier today and is there now at 3am (she must be so tired) is still at the desk. She asks if we need to have her unlock the door for us. I tell her yes, and would it be possible for us to use the hot tub. She looks at all four of us and says “Go for it!” Clearly Kelsey and Tyler have been banned after a certain time. Ha! Great!

Now I miss home. I want to see people who know me by another name. I want to be in my studio. I want nothing to happen for a while. That would be fine. Just fine.

Good night.