I forgot to mention something in my journal that was good. Lordy knows these things tend to make one spew bile and bitterness, so here’s the good thing. I totally doubled my money in Vegas. That’s right, I made 200% of what I gambled. Hells yeah. I walked away, you know, because I knew my luck wouldn’t hold.
I bet a quarter and walked away with 50 cents. Fuck yeah. I screamed “Dreams come true in Vegas!” much to the chagrin of my bandmates.
So after I finished being a total nerd in L.A., we got to play. Our set was probably not good, but I wouldn’t have guessed it seeing the crowd. I’m not a big fan of L.A. I walked around the neighborhood of the club for about six miles total. L.A. is kinda gross. Wow, though, I love playing there. For thirty minutes, we weren’t thirty-something burn out alcoholics playing nonsense for no one. For thirty minutes at the fest, we were thirty-something burn out alcoholics playing nonsense for a whole shit load of people.
Interesting thing about the L.A. fest… I saw a lot of bands of youngins who had their hair done like Twiggy or some other sixties femal model and wearing jeans that made my balls ache from across the room. I guess that’s become a regular thing, so no biggee, right? Well, I didn’t expect these kids to be playing br00tal slam metal. When did that happen? I thought they were all either ripping off At the Gates or having singy parts where they complain their daddies don’t understand them.
My conclusion… this is their world. They’re just letting us rent a wheelchair here. I’ll make the most of it.
Some great moments of the fest were Fetus Eaters completely ridiculous set of the best grind I’ve ever heard with a slide whistle. Also, they make a Fetus Eater beer and it’s GOOD. Spring Break cracked me up as well… good music plus good comedy equals Ross happy. Keen of the Crow was also another I enjoyed, playing some pretty emotional metal. No, I didn’t cry, I was chopping onions. So fuck off.
One thing I’d been complaining about all day was the fucking club kids around the Knitting Factory. Everytime I play there, these drunk kids come out and cause problems. Ironic eh, when the metal heads are the level heads.
Sure enough, we were loading our van, double parked due to an intense prevalence of vans, and I guess we were blocking traffic. Well, we can load our van in less than ten minutes, so these damn clubbers can wait. Except for one couldn’t. He had to come up to us, start yelling at us, and basically completely stop us from loading while we all sat around threatening each other. At first I thought he was security, then I realized he was a douche after Jason asked him if he wanted to help us and got REALLY pissed. Oh Jason, you card.
I walked up, yelled at him as he looked like he was about to hit our friend Brad. He got in my face. I told him, “There’s six of us, what are you going to do? Get outta here so we can finish” and he said “I’ll take all six of you on.” We all laughed at that. Of course, we also had a van and equipment to take care of. A few more “fuck offs” and we jammed our van packed and took off. Lordy, I wanted to hit that man upside the head with a guitar. Oh well. We were just a bunch of wee alcoholics who really just wanted to play crap music and get some Del Taco. Leave us alone, you big bully. Waaaa!
That was really the only bad thing in L.A., and compared to all the other stuff, I’m totally grateful. We stayed with our friend Brad in a warm apartment, drank some, bonded, snorted coke off a whore’s ass (just seeing if you’re paying attention) and left in the morn. All was good to San Francisco.
Here was the bummer about San Francisco… we started to like the other bands we were playing with. That’s the problem with these short road tours: it’s only on about the third or fourth day when you get to know the other bands and start being able to really joke with ’em and get along. Also, we really liked listening to all the other bands. Strong Inention, Neuraxis, and Disfear. Kill the Client was great, but they didn’t make it to San Francisco… I’m not sure why. I thought they were coming. Anyway, yeah, the night was good, everyone played well, but the end was a bummer.
The most worthy things of note were that I tried Swedish Snus, which is like chewing tobacco, but different. And it fucked me up. Thanks, Swedes!
Secondly, these sisters approached me after our set, and the one told me that not only had she graduated high school with an Impaled logo painted on her graduation cap, but we’d also inspired her through our lyrics to enter the medical field. She’s training as a nurse now, and is going to be dissecting cadavers! That is probably the coolest, sweetest thing ever. For once, we didn’t inspire people just to drink more! Or inspire people to leave the club! We actually inspired someone to do something worthwhile! All it took was 9 years, 9,000 beers, and 90,000 dollars for bullshit to reach one person! W00t!
Also, in regards to that show, we’d like to thank the Impaled booster club for coming once again and headbanging in unison at the front during our entire set. You guys rock.
