Category: Music

April 5

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The show last night went pretty awesome. Germans are rad. They know how to party right. We got on stage, and the headbanging commenced. A whole row of them. Arms over each other’s shoulders, headbanging like maniacs. It was pretty cool, and a nice break from the ennui and apathy we’d been receiving. Also, this show only had eight days to be promoted, and the guys did a good job. They play in a band called Mynd Crimes, and they’re pretty damn good, too. 


Unfortunately, these guys also told us about the bus we were about to be traveling on, and the driver. Apparently, it breaks down often, they had four days without heat in the winter, and the driver is a fan of she-male porn who smokes joints while driving. He looks like an old, creep, too. 

The disaster for this evening was the trailer. First, the driver, not being Thomas, the bad assed driver we did have, said he could back the trailer out, so we had to turn it around with manpower before we loaded it. So we did that. Then the lock got lost. So Christoph, the vocalist from Mynd Crimes, drove us to four different gas stations, the only thing open in Germany after eight pm. None of them had locks. So my idea was to move the trailer against a wall. We did that with relatively little help, only, my the guys from Poland, and two from Deeds of Flesh. I crashed out hard after laughing hard at some dumb, drunken antics from some other members of the tour trying their damndest, and failing, at scoring. 

At some point in the middle of the night, Jason’s puking seemed to have transfer to Sean and Reno (the drummer in Vile). They looked like complete shit today, but to both their credit, they played. 

Well, we get to the gig the next day in Trier. And the promoter was late. Five hours late. That meant no food for five hours, which is no biggee, other than the WHINING!!!!! This place is cool, some weird youth club. I got to play soccer with some tiny German kids. Two boys and two girls. The two girls, probably about age 10, kept giggling and whispering in German, as if I could understand them. They started to climb a wall and push each other trying to maintain control of the ball, and that’s when Sean and I took our leave, so they’d stop before hurting each other. Apparently, the only word they knew in English was “bye” cause they said it about 1000 times. 

Sean, being sick, handed over song announcing duties to me, but he still turned in a great performance, considering. The crowd was very nice, but again, pretty “polite.” Still, I thought we did well, and I had some fun. Now, I’m showered, talking to some friends I really miss online, and doing pretty okay. Cheers!

beware the 4th of April

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After waking up in London, I went to Starbucks. I know, it sucks, but goddamit, it was an internet hotspot. So I traded support for globalization for a little internet time. Funny thing about Starbucks in England… they don’t have coffee prepared in the morning. We had to wait. That makes sense.


Onwards to Brighton, where I just about had a heart attack. Our amazing bus driver was stuck in some of the shittiest traffic I’d ever seen in my life. Tiny one way roads, with a two story bus and trailer. When he went down one blocked road and had to make a u-turn, I was freaked out. His normally calm demeanor turned into an angry German schweinnehund. Don’t make Germans angry. You won’t like them when they’re angry. 

Then he turned down another bad road and tried to make another turn, and BAM! We lost one of the tires on the trailer. The wheel and everything. Luckily, the backup got us to the club, once he got proper directions to it, but the spare was already balding from overweight. 

Once we got to the club, there was nowhere to park and loads of tourists from London as it was the first sunny day in Brighton in a while. We had to jam the gear out, change the tire and get him out of there. It’s funny when you run into a room and say “We gotta load out fast!” and watch who comes to help and who scatters. Bastards. 

I was helping the driver change the tire when a cop came up to ask “What’s all this then?” We explained, and it was then I noticed he had a pentacle ring. So this cop was either satanic or wiccan. Either way, he was nice and let us be once we explained. Then I had to help the bus get out and block two lanes of super backed up traffic. At least when they cursed me, it seemed so polite and English. 

Finally, my friends Sarah and Andy made their way down, and it was super cool to meet them in person. I’d bought some eye patches and found a scimitar and we firrrrrrred it up like some pirates. Yarrr!

I’d have had some more friends at the show, except the bastard was vacationing with my family in America instead of being in Brighton. What lousy timing. 

The show went pretty well, despite us finding out that Jason had his fly open for the whole show. Afterwards, some English lot made their way into one of the backrooms, which weren’t really backrooms, but side rooms. Anyway, I was cool with it until some members from the other bands started giving the stink eye. I asked them to leave, and these foookin coonts wouldn’t leave. I guess that’s how the British got India and Hong Kong. 

When we headed out, I had to go to bed immediately, so I wouldn’t feed off anymore stress. I have a habit of that, and we had a trailer with a low tire, a bald tire, no spare, and an eight hour drive ahead of us. I actually did go to sleep, had a wonderful dream about smashing in one of the tour party’s head, but was awoken by vomiting. Come to find out, Jason chundered the whole ferry ride back to France. It was just not his day. 

The next day in France, Jason looked like hell. We got him some fizzy soda, and just hoped he could stand up to play. He did, just barely. Actually, same with the audience. They just barely stood while we played. There was some appreciable applause, but after us, they just went nuts for Vile, Deeds of Flesh, and Monstrosity. It was kind of a kick in the balls for us. A big, fat fucking kick. I guess some people had fun, but it kind of made me wonder, what the fuck are we bothering to tour Europe for? I could be doing a better service for humanity going home and watching porn for the rest of my life. 

We switched buses. Which is great, because the “new” older bus outside is sitting there with a snapped belt. It will not move. I guess we’re waiting for new parts or something. Meanwhile, there’s some kids here at this rec center we are playing, and they appear to be of Arab decent, and none too happy with America. They like to let us know this by saying, “ha ha, you Bush! America go home!” This is shaping up to be an awesome day.

April 2

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Birmingham. Fucking Brum. Fucking awesome. 


Well, there was some problems. This was the one night that the promoter insisted that Impaled not open the show, but play as direct support. Duh, this was going to a problem. For months, I’d been asking this cat, Pove, if this would be cool, if he’d cleared it with other folks. He’d said yes, and indeed, he had cleared it with the tour organizer. The first night, I’d made sure to talk to the other bands about it. This wasn’t our deal, we didn’t ask for it, we were told. 

Well, we get to Birmingham, I meet this guy Pove. He was a nice guy, showed me around a bit while I waited for the other guys to wake up. He showed me a comic shop in the UK, and come to find out, it’s a lot like a comic shop in the U.S., except loads more Dr. Who merchandise. Christ, they love the Dr. Who in England. 

The show, loading up, started decently enough. The club was at the top of the stairs, but fuck it, the club itself was cool. Loads of paintings of monsters from famous movies all around. I was stoked. The only shit started was when I started getting a ration of shit about the line-up change from two guys from Monstrosity. Like I said, everyone else was very cool about it, but these two guys were relentless. Were they kidding? Maybe, but I was already sensitive about how this might go down, and it pissed me off. The only people it didn’t effect kept giving me shit despite my explanations, and wouldn’t stop even as I kidded with them about it. 

Well, I got quite sick of it, and wouldn’t go with the rest of the tour for dinner. Which, apparently, turned into quite the scene itself. The promoter had made sure everyone would be fed, but one person just had to get in his face about a soda or something. Now, I wasn’t there, so maybe this is all heresay. But here’s the thing… the promoter also doubles as a cop, so he’s not so much to be fucked with. Apparently, he put said person in his place. According to him, he made the band member his “bitch.”

Good. Some of the whining on this tour has really put me at odds. The bulk of people are quite cool, quite willing to chip in. But the whiners… ugh, how can they say they are metal when they’re bitching about the most trivial of things? How metal is it to complain about not being pampered enough? It boggles the mind. 

Right, so here’s how the show in Brum went down… fucking great for all involved. Either the promoter overjudged us and it didn’t matter, or perhaps he judged perfectly correctly and the night went great because of it. In any case, everyone did well. So great. Impaled went nuts and we just had a great fucking time. Birmingham, we love you. 

Then, onto London. I had my doubts, as this show started so fucking early in order to make way for a goth club later on. As it turned out, people were lined up and we had a really good set in front of a lot of cool people. The one guy to give us shit bought us all beers and showed us around later on, so obviously, he was just taking a piss. That’s good for laugh. 

There was some technical foul ups, but mostly I’m just glad we’re all having a good time, and yup, getting tour tight. Well, for Impaled. The other bands have us blown out of the water for tightness. 

Sean and I busted out for a few and I FINALLY got to see one of the locations I’ve longed to see for so long, 10 Bells Pub. That is, the infamous pub that Jack the Ripper’s victims all met at. God knows how we found it, because we were lost as fuck, but eventually there it was before us. I was stoked, as I was shortchanged out of seeing this place before. Come to find out, it’s a tiny little place, quite ugly, really. But dammit, I was there. 

Back, we loaded out, the goths came in, and we headed to pub around the block. Even Jason, who just drank Coke. We met up with some cool folks from around here, and one crazy Czech chick obsessing about her tits being too small (they weren’t) and her boyfriend. The only fucking bummer was when this Polish guy came up to me and said “Make your vocals lower…” which was fine. I laughed and said I’d try. Then he said “No, I’m serious, and I will smash your face in.” What the fuck? Good lord, I was ready to throw down. Threaten me? I really didn’t know what to say, he was friends with these other people, and obviously, they didn’t know what to say. I let the moment pass, and they left, but god dammit… fuck you, you piece of shit. I don’t know your name, but if you read this, stay the fuck away. You were about three seconds from getting a pint glass struck to your ugly head. 

Critique me all you want, but momma says if you got nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all. Enjoy the snow in Poland, I’ll be in Cali, beyotch. 

After that, Raul, Sean, Mike from Deeds, me, and this other cat (fuck, I don’t remember names) had a killer time walking around, drinking, and finding some shit to eat. Today, I’ve had awesome crepes and fallafels. London is pretty fun, for a fucked up town with crazy drivers on the wrong side of the road.

March 30

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Manchester United! Manchester… unexcited! That’s pretty much what it seemed like. Two days in a row of people staring. At least in Manchester when we played I saw some head bobbing, and there were four kids, nay, six… holy crap. There’s that 64. I’ll explain later.


The funnest part about the kids in Manchester was they stood directly out of the circle of light that we could see. So there could’ve been 10 kids or 300 and we’d never have known. After we got off, I guesstimated there was about 80. 

I met one of my infamous online bugaboos, one TawmDee. This kid would lay into me on IM about old Impaled, or how much we sucked compared to Carcass so much I almost blocked him until I figured out he was actually a fan just giving me some shit. So turns out, he’s about 5 feet tall and weighs maybe about 110 pounds. Yup… that’s Impaled fan material right there. 

The rest of the evening basically had me yelling at my computer because of the really bad wifi connection I was paying way too much for. There was a point I made a cigarette run for our tour manager. I asked the owner of the shop for some Marlboros and he said “10 20.” I was like, holy crap, I didn’t know cigarettes were THAT expensive in the UK! I had to go back in the rain, get more pounds, and then come to find out, the owner was asking me if I wanted a 10 pack or a 20 pack. I had no idea they sold them that way. Fucking limeys. 

Oh, so 64. These kids laid into us for about 30 minutes about how important a number 64 was. One of them had it tattooed on him and he made me sign a 64 onto a record. If anyone can figure out why this is so important, please go inform someone else. I think I heard enough. 

The only other funny thing was when I was watching Monstrosity and some kid on the side of the stage who’d sold them pot earlier decided to drop trou and wave his penis at them. Then a skinhead so in character I thought he must be a cartoon came and started pushing him around. 

Oh, another funny thing, some guy kissed me on the cheek after kidding around about how he was gay for liking Impaled. Then he left. I still don’t know whether or not he was kidding, now. Oh, actually, there were girls during Monstrosity grabbing guys and pretending to butt ram them. Then some guys started doing it. Quite a “festive” evening. 

Oh yeah, also Nick Barker (ex-Cradle of Filth, Dimmu Borgir) came to the show. Some crack was made about me being kicked out of the tour bus and being replaced. I said “good” and they added that Raul would have to come and Nick would play drums for Impaled. I said “no way” and Nick took it personally. All I meant was I didn’t want to hang out with Raul. 

Glasgow, Scotland was the next day. I like Glasgow. A lot. There were loads of crazy people I could hardly understand despite them speaking English. It turned out this was kind of “our” night as Impaled did smashingly. See, the town had this crusty/punk/metal mix that worked out nicely in our favor. We play loosely, or as others might put it, badly, so the punkers seem to really dig it. It’s like “Aye! ‘ere’s a load of meta’ heads that urn’t fraid to get rrrrrrraw.” We met some really cool people. Sean met some Iraqi store owner who had quite a few unfavorable things to say about our homeland. We met a lady who told us about “monk rock” and loads of drunk weegees (people from Glasgow) and partied with them late into the night. I think I partied a little too hard. I looked in the mirror this morning and couldn’t recognize myself past the luggage under my eyes. 

The weegees were awesome, just out for a laugh, but when we started getting into politics and the like, they seem to be intelligent and know what they were talking about. At least, the bits I could understand seemed smart. 

Today we rolled into Leeds. I jumped out of the bus, after not leaving my bunk for many an hour, and headed out to find a toilet. Or as the weegees might’ve said, a “bog.” At least, I planned to make it a bog, if you catch my drift. Well, I wandered for about a half hour, and no luck. So I wandered back. The bus was gone. Uh… yeah. I thought this was the club, but all the doors were locked. No bus. No club. No working cell phone. I’m not sure how many times I called myself stupid.

Well, as it turns out, the bus was around the corner. Note to self… cling to the bus. This was a warning. 

Sean and I walked about town for a bit and came back, only to find out we were going on in 15 minutes. Oh goody. So we jammed up on stage, got ready to go, and… emptiness. The whole show area was empty. There were people in the bar. I called them on the PA to come on in, it was pretty embarassing in front of the other bands. Well, we started, and people did wander in. And it was as if there was an invisible force field keeping them 15 feet away from us. They seemed appreciative, but I really can’t tell. There was a pair of headbangers, and a really nice goth kid who I wasn’t sure if he was blind or not because he didn’t look me in the eye. But he liked the set. Maybe it’s best if he was blind.

March 28

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I knew it would happen. I went back and checked a drunken rambling after the show in Gent. It was bad. I’m not posting it. No emailing or journaling while drunk. 


I’ll say this, while sober… I got really depressed after a really weird show in Belgium and drank way too much. 

The club was crazy… fresh cinderblocks above our head laid down that day. Everyone was a bit sketch about it, especially once Raul started breakdancing on the second floor. The jerk. 

In my drunkenness, I also missed hanging out with Sven from Aborted, an all around swell guy. I’m a jerk.

Yay! We’re in Manchester today, and in England, and yay fun. Although going through customs drunk, and having unfortunately taken a rare hit of pot, which surprise surprise, made me totally sick as usual, was no fun. They are really strict in England. I think it’s all the sausages and potatoes they eat. Get some salads, people, and loosen those asses!

Speaking of asses… I need some salad. Ugh. No details. 

I missed the ferry ride, being completely wasted and asleep and post puking. Eric from Deeds got caught on films… Deeds gone Wild! Some awesome drunken ramblings and a puking session caught. That was good to know I wasn’t the only idiot last night.

Chapter the fourth

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I guess when there is less to complain about, there is less to write about? What a pessimistic view! The pint is half empty? The liter? Whatever they use over here. 

Things are going pretty damn well. We played an indoor soccer, oh SORRY, excuse me, football arena in this weird business complex. It turned out super awesome. It sounds cheap, but I guess this was the usual place for shows. The set up was actually really sweet, with a totally huge stage and great sound. The couple who were running the show were really sweet and laid out a spread of food that keeps giving. Two days later, and we’re still munching on leftovers. Not just pizza, mind you, but real cheeses, fruits, good rolls, and lots of beer and bottled water. It’s amazing to me that I haven’t needed to spend one dollar, oh SORRY, high falutin’ Euro. 

There was some grief with one of the bands and the promoter regarding “bootleg” merchandise. The people putting on the show were running their own distro, and some folks decided that despite the hundreds of dollars they must’ve lavished upon us in the way of food and the money spent on tons of beer and providing a venue didn’t make up for them having a distro at the show. I did see they had an Impaled CD for sale, and they promptly removed it. That was all for me. For others, it was necessary to yell at these people. All of us in Impaled were a little flabbergasted, but maybe we’re just overcome with how nice they treat us here. Should we expect more? I don’t know, but we all made a point to thank them profusely for their generosity after one of our touring party put up a sign with an arrow that said “fuck them” and caused quite a furor. 


The show was actually more of a fest, with four other bands playing. My favorite was the first band, Necrotic Flesh (I think). They played old school death metal, with super distorted bass, gnarly vocals, and actual d-beats, not just a bunch of blasts. It was great and I had a lot of fun rockin’ out up front to it. It was cool to finally see Fleshless, too, as I’d been getting their splits and albums for a long time. Nice guys, and the one guitar player had the most incredibly out of style mullet going on. What can you expect? They are Czech! It’s awesome.

Our set was the best we’d played so far, I thought, with a huge crowd of kids snapping it up. I guess they didn’t notice we weren’t playing the same notes, but so be it. 


Then it was back to eating. The food just would not stop coming! Also, some crazy kids who just wanted to grill us about every nuance of our lives that they’d read about over the internet or in ‘zines… it’s always weird, but I’m appreciative they give a shit. One kid gave me a pack of cigarillos which are really good until you have the second one. Then it’s just disgusting. I had to ditch the present. 

Moving stuff out was an ordeal, at least if you’ve ever dealt with hundreds of drunken Germans. The way out was by the hard liquor table, and it was nigh impossible to get the dancing Deutsche out of our way. At least they were having fun, but seriously, there was no music and they wouldn’t stop dancing. 

We also ran into our old friend Joker from Necropolis who’d apparently joined the army and was on his way to Iraq via Germany. I bit my tongue and wished him good luck. 

The next day, I woke up and we were already moving shit into the next club in Rotterdam. AH! A familiar place… I’d played this shithole 9 years ago! I say shithole in the most respectful way, as the completely decimated bathroom in this place is an absolute work of drunken, riotous art. It’s a club situated right in a nice park, and I guess the city has been trying to tear it down for years, but they just keep going. That’s rock ‘n’ roll.  


The show went well, save for the triggers we had to add to the drums because the one-handed sound guy couldn’t figure out how to get a drum mic working with the old-assed piecemeal sound board. Raul either sounded like the best drummer ever, doubling every hit even when he was just doing rolls and not touching the kick at all, or he sounded like the worst. It drove us crazy on stage, but we were told it was okay. Oh well… We must’ve done okay, because sales are up. It keeps increasing everyday. At this rate, we might not go back home totally in debt, just kinda in debt.  


I just ran upstairs to the office to get my internet fix. I’m in serious withdrawl here. I’m on the fucking thing everyday and I miss all my friends on there. Some I’ll be getting to meet in person soon, though, so that rules. 

We also got to meet Sly, the Goregnome from Fondlecorpse, a really great band from Holland. He’s big in the Razorback Family, having done tons of layouts for them and being a member of the Hive for along time. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, don’t worry too much, it just means you’re not KVLT enough. Hey Billy, Sly leaves the house! He really does! Also, his sister gets hit on by other people on the tour and it’s funny because they don’t get the time of day. 


We stayed up long into the night, as no one could sleep after the early show. Reno, the drummer for Vile from Denmark, seems to think it’s okay to sit next to people in little tiny European shorts and nothing else. I told him that he and his European brethren’s free ways made me uncomfortable. Maybe I’ll get used to it and start running around in oddly colored designer briefs, too. Fucking Europeans. Gotta love ’em. 

Speaking of which, Stone Golem, my favorite Euro-trash / soundtrack band has managed to write a new song while I’ve been on the road. It perfectly encapsulates the European experience and you should go check it out on my myspace page. I had nothing to do with it whatsoever. 

(edit November 5, 2012: Stone Golem was me, duh… recorded in the first couple days while on tour, the vocals were recorded in the rain outside Baroeg. The track is now available here)

Now, we’re on the road again. We were supposed to get a new bus with more bunks and a trailer that doesn’t leak, but I guess it didn’t show up this morning. So yay this bus… I guess. It’s really just not up to my new super high rock star standards. The television doesn’t work, there’s not playstation… REALLY people, this just has GOT to change. I can’t go on if I don’t get my alloted Red Bulls and foot massage.

Chapter the third

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Okay, so after the Berlin show, I really know I must make no more complaints. 


Have you ever been on a Nightliner? This is my first time. It’s a totally insane tour bus. It’s got two levels, with sixteen bunks on one level, and then four tables on the bottom with televisions and a stereo. There’s also a couch in the back, a fridge, a bathroom, and a tiny kitchen, albeit with no kitchen sink. Go figure. So yeah, this is totally insane. Not only that, but apparently we’re getting a second one of these bad boys tomorrow. That’ll be good, because then we can disperse the smell of filthy vagabonds between two vehicles. 

Berlin was inzane. We were supposed to go on at eight, but then one of the club workers wisely told us to beg for another half hour. This turned out great, as my beloved sour kraut Conny showed up ten minutes before our delayed start. Not only that, but she brought me one of the most amazing presents ever, a sheep skull, freshly skinned, with offal in a giant specimen jar. Yes, Conny is nuts, and apparently so am I as I carried around my little treasure all evening. 

I didn’t get to see much of Berlin, as Sean and I had only had a chance to dash to a shop where I picked up two bottles of lamp oil. Yay fire! I know I don’t have to breathe fire or do goofy antics for Impaled, as the music should speak for itself, but dammit all, it’s fun. 

Oh so the show… we played and the former eerily empty room filled up. A couple of real numbskulls wearing surgical masks came to the front. It was fun to watch them headbang and go crazy while trying to breathe with those masks on. The crowd seemed to enjoy it and we finally had some vibe and energy with each other, much better than our first show. Oh, we’re still raw and we still fucked up, but we like to think of that as part of our charm. 

Afterwards, we had some fun with crazy German kids who offered us their semen. That was interesting. They also licked and bit the sheep skull. Then again, I can’t say much, as I had draped the offal over myself while we played. What’s a little trichinosis among friends? 

I continued drinking with Conny and her sister Denise, and we made plans as we’re meeting up after the tour. Her quote of the evening, “Yes! Now let’s go out and annoy some people!” And that, I am sure we did. I promised the other bands that the sheep head wouldn’t be going in the bus… well, it is here. I have to find someway to boil it before it starts stinking. I promised Conny I would try, or maybe the stink of eighteen men can overpower the stink of the head. We’ll see.

Eventually, I made my way back to the bus, where some of the other bands had been busy gawking at goth girls in the club next to ours. I was busy gawking at more beer on the bus. Slumber overcame me, and it was beautiful stretching out in my tiny little cocoon that is to be home for about a month. 

Today, we’re playing… fuck I don’t even know where we are. That’s okay, it doesn’t much matter. The people are speaking German, so I know we’re still in Germany. It’s obvious from the drawn faces that pretty much everyone had a little too much fun last night. Couple that with the latest disaster… a water leak in the trailer! Oh yes, good times. We got lucky, and just our boxes were ruined. Deeds of Flesh took it in the nose with about 150 ruined CDs. Then again, they manufacture their own, so I know that’s only about 150 actual dollars lost, whereas our fuck nut of a label is charging the equivalent of about 9 dollars per CD to us. Thanks for all the zero tour support, you cheap bastards.

March 24

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We’ve spent far too long on a two block stretch in Poland. Walking one hour in either direction from what they like to call a hotel, there was little save for a pair of pastry shops and some mechanics. Oh, and soot. Lots of soot. 


The show went… well, let’s be fair to ourselves. In all fairness, we licked donkey balls while giving a reach around to a syphilitic gorilla. I think that would be basically how anyone would’ve described us. It was pretty damn bad. That’s what we get for not practicing our set for oh, I don’t know, a month? Raul biffed the second song big time, Sean couldn’t remember riffs, myself as well, and my bass not only had a problem in the input, but I also broke a string half-way through the set. Perfect! 

Yeah, it was bad. I think there were two kids who enjoyed it… well, they kinda thought it was okay, at least. I reminisced upon other first show of tour shows, and I have to say, we’ve uniformly managed to suck. Never come see us on our first show on any given tour. You’re are sure to see and hear the visual and audio equivalent of shit. 

Colin from Vile told us it was a good “warm up” show. Then they went on and played a set that sounded like a CD playing. After Sean had complimented Mike from Deeds of Flesh on their set, Mike said it wasn’t good according to his “standards.” Apparently, we have low standards. We think if you miss just on out of every 2000 1/24th notes, you’re doing okay. 

The people showed their appreciation by buying one shirt. W00t!!1

Back at the hotel, we drank away. It was pointed out that we managed to nearly polish off all the beer the venue gave to us while the other bands barely put a dent in theirs. Go Impaled! At least we’re good at something. 

The bad news that hit was our Nightliner was apparently broken down. It was a possibility that we would have to cancel our Friday night Berlin show. This, of course, is where all the bands have had their merchandise sent. Needless to say, none of us were pleased. Mariusz, the tour director, managed to save the day. He got us a coach bus that will get us to Berlin where we’ll meet up with hopefully the two Nightliners we’ll be living in for a month. 

Here’s the fun part: the coach bus. We had to load all the backline, luggage, guitars, and merchandise that the bands had brought with them. Let me describe my situation right now… behind me, is stacked to the ceiling and over my head are cardboard boxes and at least one giant case of drum stands. To my left on the seat is my bass, our bag of merch, and some luggage. To my right is more cardboard boxes. Now, I know, I shouldn’t complain because I’m on a bus in Europe on tour. But fuck you. It’s tight. I’m sandwiched in tighter than John Holmes inside a Barely Legal model. 

At four in the morning we started this process of completely overloading a bus. Sean and I partook in some victor gin, aka Polish wodka, and I can see why they cling to the stuff. My nerves were steeled, or at least numbed, to the cold. Go wodka. 

Now I’m getting car sick typing this, so I’m gonna lay me down to rest.