Wow, it’s real hard to tell you about life on the road now that I have spent the last twenty-four hours in the comfort of my own home doing what ever the hell it is I wanna do. Eat scrambled eggs naked? Sure. Fart without having to let everyone know so they can roll down the windows? Can do. The world is my oyster. But I must finish what I started, no matter how loudly my brain tells me to wander the streets aimlessly strictly because I can. So here we go.
First thing’s first, a big “Fuck yeah!” goes out to the entire west coast. We have never been received so well as this time around. Thanks. Alot.
Los Angeles, Ca.
Why lie? Damn near ever time we’ve played L.A. in the last couple of years has gone over like a fart at a funeral. But this time around people actually showed up. It was crazy. I know when Frank Sinatra sang “If you can make it there/ You’ll make it anywhere” it was about New York, but I swear that L.A. is a tougher crowd. After the show we packed up and headed to San Diego as fast as possible to squeeze in all the time we could with our favorite people in the world Liz, Jeremy, Gar and Tracy.
San Diego, Ca.
This kinda sucks because I somehow lost all the photos I had of this part of the trip. Truth is, there I may not have taken any. You see, I get real excited every time we stay with these folks, and, well—sometimes the excitement leads to more drinking than normal which can lead to me forgetting to do things like take photos or wear clothes or not sleeping in my own sick… But this much I can tell you: There is nothing in this world I or anyone even closely related to Red Fang would not do for this crew. I think I can speak for all of us when I say this is our home away from home. Thanks again guys and gals.
This was also a sad one for us since it was the last show with Early Man… I promised myself I wasn’t gonna cry…
The next afternoon John and I split off from the pack and hopped the train up to L.A. with Jeremy, Lizzie and our friend Mike to check out a party at Mike’s warehouse/apartment. The big attraction? White Shit. A hardcore band featuring our old friends Jared and Coady from Big Business/ The Melvins fame. That’s right, you better watch your feet, ‘cause I’m name droppin’.
If only I could spin prose like Shakespear, then I might be able to do justice to what that show was like. You haven’t lived until you’ve seen Jared singing while eating a cheeseburger with an eighteen-year-old kid in a headlock. It was magic. Pure Magic.
Who da thunk? Oakland on a Sunday, wow! The tour couldn’t have ended any better. Packed out show, tons of old friends, some new ones. It was in my personal top three shows mostly because I got this:
Isn’t that a beaut? It came from my new buddy Steve (I hope I got your name right, your contact info is in the van, which I have sworn off until at least the end of the week) who rightly said “The band always gets all the cool stuff, I thought it was the roadie’s turn.” Thank you again, it will be used to it’s fullest potential.
The next morning there was nothing left to do except head to the In-N-Out and make our way towards home.
It felt kinda weird to be honest with you. While everyone in the van couldn’t wait to get to their lives back home, there is something strangely addictive about the road. As much as you want to bitch about having to shit in gas station bathrooms and sleeping on coffee ground encrusted floors there is nothing like it in the world. We were part of something that will only belong to us. No one else in the world lived the experiences we just did. Sure, millions of people have driven around this country, but none did it in our van. The inside jokes, crazy hotel clerks, over-served fans, break downs, freak outs, hysterical laughter, late night talks, early morning drives, nutbag Waffle House employees… It’s all something that, no matter what happens, we’ll be talking about when we are eighty-years-olds sitting around with a pant-load at some old folks home. And no one can take that away from us.
TOUR TO LIVE!!!!
P.S. This isn’t the end…