The Gods Of Now On Tour – Day 6
Before we get to Saskatoon we stop for gas. Jon wants to buy a zippo lighter. Everyone should have one, I buy a Hustler – Wait! Hold on! I buy it cuz it’s funny and political. I like to read it. Oh, and I don’t know if you know this but in the magazine they have these naked bitches that look fucking awesome showing off their little cookies! But that’s not why I bought it.
We find the Hotel. The Ramada. It’s nice. Better cuz the night guy is whack stoned. He can barely stand up. He can’t remember how to do anything and has to call his boss. He finally gets me checked in but with the wrong credit card. I’ll deal with it in the morning. I like the guy tho. Flawed people are real people.
We get into the room.
Zasta and Jon go down to the lounge to do some computer work. They meet a very drunk man who says “I tried to have some pussy in my face but the girl she called me a piece of shit!”. Well, let me rephrase my statement I made about flawed people… Maybe I don’t like them so much. Or more to the point – there’s flawed and then there’s crack-head.
I stay in the room to do my work. I’m restless tho. There’s a lot that goes through your mind and trying to sort it out isn’t easy. Especially because of my therapy, I have to deal with things as they come – I need to recognize what I’m doing and use tools to analyse it.
I’m online and I go and check out Kristie’s myspace page. She’s photogenic. Then I read her blog about her time in Europe. She says that she has time to think what with the three days of train travel she’s doing. God, I understand. This is Day 6 and my head is exploding. My inner dialog is less a dialog as it is a screaming match. There is no right or wrong, good or bad, dirty or clean, healthy or unhealthy. This is Life or Deth. I win either way.
We have three days of playing coming up. All in a row. The guys come back to the room and I go to sleep.
Psychotic Episode #1
I care little for what is around me right now and not just because I’m asleep. I wake up thinking I’m drunk. “Did I drink that whole bottle of Jack?”. I try to remember what I did. Panic. That feeling of Veins On The Stairway telling me about the damage I’ve done. But I didn’t do anything. Did I? I’m always the one doing something. A good story comes out of it – but I have to live with it. I toss and turn. I remember things that would make anyone wake up screaming. Things I did. God, I hate this exorcism of the subconscious. My subconscious is clearly a fucking jerk. Wants me to twist with it. Fine. Nail me on the cross you creep. I’ll take it. I own what I am. I’m here. But I didn’t do anything wrong – at least not last night.
That’s it! I’m awake now. Thank you, you subconscious fuck. Thank you very much.
Psychotic Episode #1 is over.
I’m feeling pretty good. Showered. Emailed everyone and packed up. This is when Jon and Zasta tell me about Mr. Drunk Shit Head guy who wanted pussy on his face. Can’t blame him but he should clean up his act a bit. I head down to the Banyion to put my bags in. I walk back in the Hotel and go to the counter. I have to straighten out the mess Stoner-Joe made last night with the credit cards.
Brekk is there. I see her name tag. She has such a pretty face. But behind it there’s some mutha fucken huge pile of rocks that she’s building into a nice wall. She straightens the credit card mess all out for me in two seconds. So nice. I ask her about her name. She says, looking at anything but me, that it’s Scandinavian. This face she has. It’s like beautiful glass breaking before my eyes. Maybe that’s why I think she’s so pretty. Anyway there are some lines of travel you can’t follow even though you know that they’d fuck you up.
I see Jon outside. I join him and we go to the Banyion. It’s covered in wasps. Is there a fucking nest in the damn thing? I kick the front hood. A cloud of ‘em come out just as Alex shows up. We’re all dancing around deeking out the wasps. Alex makes the very astute comment that “It’s hard to look cool running away from wasps.” But I think his bigger truth to that statement is that bugs are cooler than humans. This is again exemplified when we find a fuzzy bear caterpillar that’s all yellow. Jon says we found Alex in caterpillar form. The little guy is yellow but does remind us an awful lot of our Alex. Caterpillar-Alex was crossing the street so we picked him up and put him in a tree. If Caterpillar-Alex is anything at all like our Alex he’ll say “Fuck you, pal, I didn’t ask to be put up here in no fucking tree. Take me down. Now!” I left him there swearing at me and calling me “Pal,” in his little bug voice.
I have a great idea. I’ll buy some bug spray and bomb the front engine where the wasps are having a fucking party. Then we project ourselves to the highway after I do the said deed. The wasps are no longer there. The insecticide has worked. And it is now filling the interior with enough harmful chemical that we all start nodding off. And we sail into the ditch.
On second thought, let the fuckers live.
We pile in and drive off. We forget we were ever there.
We’re hungry and we stop at Thomas The Cook Family Resaurant. I want breakfast. It’s the most important meal of the day. We walk in. The place smells like turpentine. That’s not pleasant to eat in. I know, I’ve done it before. Everything starts tasting like poison and then your head starts spinning and for some reason you want to start fucking a chair. Not cool first thing in the morning. The hostess… (yes she was a cute one too but I just feel I have to say that her ass was remarkable) says we can try the lounge where it didn’t smell like turpentine. We walk in and it has the overwhelming odor of cleaning solvents that all bars use. To a heavy music band – this is not were you want to eat breakfast. We get up and find another spot in the restaurant tucked away in the back but not in the lounge. Here it smells like food. Nice.
Civilians obviously eat breakfast before 11 am because that’s the time when it’s served up until in all these joints. Fuck. But our waitress who is very nice (nice means too old to actually comment on – how fucking sexist is that? I’m going to have to deal with these issues soon!) tells us we can order breakfast for an extra 2 bucks a plate. Breakfast is worth it. So yes we do it. Alex and Jon have steak. They think it’s fantastic. Too good for steak sauce. Zasta and me have eggs. They’re FUCKING AMAZING BRILLIANT LOVE-COKED BANG ‘ER-ASS CRAZY GOOD. Actually they’re eggs. Nothing more, nothing less. We eat and leave.
Filled up and now I’m sitting up shot-gun while Zasta is driving towards Edmonton. He is in a relationship with the wind. She pushes him too hard sometimes. We all see that. But we’re his band – we’re here for him to complain to. Sometimes I see it tho. She pushes him to the right. Then to the left. She’s got a mind of her own. What can I say? Nothing.
The view is really inspiring. Gold fields of wheat, a small depression where a river (the Sask. River if I’m not mistaken) winds it’s desperate search, shocks of cloud, haze like some giant took a rag across a billowy white one and smeared it because of some mistake. Tufts of trees like the perfect Brazilian trim on a gorgeous pussy – Okay! There I go again. Pussy on the brain…
…I’m going to figure this out. I look out the window just now and I see the land curve up and down like the curve on the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Should I even try to fight this? Why can’t the highest level of human evolution, of beauty, creativity, spirituality and passion be, in my opinion, embodied in a woman? They’re fun to play with, they’re amazing to love and I can’t survive without feminine energy. But there’s something else… I don’t know what – maybe magic? It goes very deep. Like sex.
This fucking road were on! Feels like I’m on top of some fucking razor blade cutting into a snowy mountain. The wheels are turning like my fucking ideas and perverted dreams of you. Every moment that ticks by is one closer to detonation. I have to cut a wire but my wires are crossed. Baby, what am I supposed to do? What the fuck would you do.
I’ll tell you – you wouldn’t be here. It’s too fucking wrecked.
…
I ask Alex to say “WaaaaaWaaaa!” Like he does to snap me out of my mood. He yells from the back like the asshole he pretends to be that “No one tells me what to fucking do!!!” He means it. The tension he creates is exactly what I needed to snap out of my mood – but then I realize I’m falling into the same trap I always do – I give the responsibility of my moods, actions and ultimately my behavior to others. It’s not up to Alex or anyone else to snap me out of my mood – it’s my thoughts that say that. Hard to recognize this in the moment. But I do and I kick myself for falling into that trap.
Few blows to the day – that has to be remembered. It’s just that moment of the day that sucks – not everything. We drive up to the Tap House in St. Albert AB. It’s in a strip mall that reminds me of America. Sacramento. Where the edge of cities started. No one knows what the hell is going on. No one knows about US!! Do you believe that?
We’ll see if the booking and PR get better – it is just the beginning of the tour and the live life for TGON but seriously what the fuck? I’m paying people to book and to tell the press and anyone else for that matter to spread the word about TGON – we’re not even listed in the local paper. We’re booked in nowhere land and we play to a full house of imaginary friends. They all love it. Can’t wait to have us back.
Little tattooed girl named Sheena is there. Guys are knocked out. But I guess St. Albert is happy with itself and the people are happy with it. It’s good to see such secure people that they don’t need to be nice to anyone other then those who they know…
That’s not exactly fair tho, Gordon the sound guy is an old music lover who is nice as you could want. He reminds me of a mechanic who has to break the news that the tranny is going to cost you 5000 bucks. He tells us the venue had no clue we were even playing. He enjoys himself watching us and talking gear shop with us.
Went to Hotel downtown. It’s called the Days Inn. Smells like Diapers and cabbage! It’s a hole! I hate it. The night guy is queer and hilarious. Keeps on pushing us to hang with him. Yeah, don’t think so glammer-clown. He’s really nice tho and helps us with the parking – which is in the lot across the street cuz the Banyion is to tall to fit underground.
It costs and he tells me that he’ll look after it in the morning for me.
We want a little bite to eat so we figure we’ll look around Edmonton before we hit the hey. It doesn’t yield anything but delirious laughs and a feeling of exhaustion.
We go back to the room and sleep.
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