November 15th - November 28th, 2008.

November 15th - 2:12PM. Driving to Birmingham.

I didn't remember his name, but I knew the face.
"My name's #*&."
With a snide undertone he helped me to remember.
What can I say? The road is long, the road is hard, the road is often times drunk and blurry.
It was obvious that #*& thought I was a jerk and he didn't really care how I was doing, and there was no real point to him asking what I've been up to.
"You should come back to Memphis and play a house show."
It wasn't a statement, it was thinly veiled criticism.
When it becomes obvious that people are not your friends, never were your friends, and you have no interest in building a friendship with them, nor do they with you, why would you feign the interest to do so?
I don't have to remember your name to be a good person. I wish I had that kind of memory, but I just don't.
See #*& it's not that I have anything against playing house shows, it's just that I don't want to play at your house.


November 16th - 10:46AM. Driving to Columbia, SC.

Today is the last day of the Revival Tour. I'm sorry to see it end. I'm truly thankful for the experience. It will be weird carrying on for the next week of shows without everyone else. Chuck's been talking about possibly doing a Revival Tour in the UK sometime this spring. If it happens I want in. Chuck, Ben, Tim, Jon, Digger, Todd, Jill, Jimmy, Matt, thank you for everything.

I wrote a song last night after soundcheck and played it first in my set. I think I'm going to call it "Bob Dylan Dream #12 & 35".


November 19th - 2:08AM. New Jersey.

I like the thought that the lyrics and melody were a gift from my guitars.
I volunteered to go out to the van and get the directions notebook. Once out there I realized I wanted to bring a guitar inside the house to play. But carry both guitars in? That would be a hassle. I started to bring in my Gibson, out of loyalty. I've only owned the Takamine for 3 days. But then I worried the Takamine would be lonely, cold and lonely, so I brought them both in. Once inside I sat down on the floor and wrote a song. I like the thought that the lyrics and melody were a gift from my guitars for bringing them both inside the warm house.


November 21st - 3:18PM. Driving Connecticut.

Kevin Mahon is the only person who has ever broken my heart. We used to be best friends. We used to spend every minute of every day together. When we went on our first tour his parents made me his legal guardian. Since Kevin was under 18 they wanted me to be able to bail him out of jail in the event he should be arrested.
Kevin and I had a musical connection unlike any I've felt before or since. We didn't have to verbally communicate ideas or direction, we both just knew what the other was thinking. If I played a chord progression he knew the beat to go along with it. If he played a beat, the chord progression to match would come to me.
I loved Kevin.
When I was 8 years old I decided that playing music was what I wanted to do with my life. Kevin didn't feel the same way and there eventually came a point in our relationship when he wanted to pursue other interests. I had a really hard time coping with it and felt that if we didn't play music together, we couldn't be friends. I didn't know what to do with the hurt and disappointment I felt. In many ways I acted immaturely and I'm sorry for it.
I'm sorry Kevin.
We've seen each other sporadically over the years; tried hanging out once or twice, had a drunken argument in a bar, shared a couple phone conversations, traded emails, but the exchanges were always awkward and stilted. you could compare it to the way you'd feel talking to an ex-boyfriend or ex-girlfriend. I continued playing music and Kevin followed his interest to Brooklyn, were he now lives. Last time the band played in NYC he came out to the show. We went out drinking afterwards. It was a fun time.
Driving into the city yesterday I texted Kevin on a whim and asked if he wanted to come and play a song with me at the Knitting Factory.
"Sure, want to play a couple?"
It was the first time we'd played music together, been onstage together, in 7 years. Without any more practice than running through the songs at sound check, it felt like not a day had passed since our last show together in Gainesville.
A lot of the songs we played I've refused to play for years, and some fans of those songs have never quite been able to understand. They were songs that Kevin and I made together and their association to my broken heart turned me cynical and jaded towards them.
Talking to Kevin after the show I spilled my guts. I was lit, both on the moment and vodka. I told him that I missed him and that if he ever wanted to play music together again, on whatever terms, I'd love to. Compare it to begging your ex to take you back, that's how I felt waking up this morning, like I had slept with my ex-girlfriend and then begged her to take me back...
but maybe I'm wrong. Maybe it isn't really like that and my metaphors are all off. Maybe we can play music together again someday, for fun, because it feels good. Maybe sometimes I just over think things.


November 23rd - 1:34PM. Driving to Pittsburgh, PA.

Originally we intended to drive for at least two hours after the Connecticut show, make it past the city and find a hotel. I made it about fifteen minutes before deciding I didn't want to drive anymore. We slept the night then drove to Allentown, our planned destination for our day off. I found a much needed Kinko's/Fed Ex, where I was able to send some overdue mail. We found a Target and did some much needed shopping (a new toothbrush and toothpaste). We ate dinner at Carraba's. We got a room at a Comfort Suites. We had drinks at the bar and played mega-touch. We went back to the room, watched "Burn After Reading" (my second time seeing it). We passed out. Today, I'm hungover. My stomach is doing backflips from all the cheap wine. Three more shows this year.


November 24th - Time?. Somewhere outside Pittsburgh, PA.

I'm faced with choice, possibility. I am without a plan. Everything is uncertain. It's time to decide though, the road is running out. Where you gonna go?
I talked with Kevin today about the possibility of playing together again. What would it mean? How would it work? Neither of us are sure. We plan on talking again tomorrow.


November 25th - 12:26PM. Driving to Grand Rapids, MI

"At school you dream, in life you have to make adjustments. You come up against a reality older than yourself, to which you have to adapt yourself. You don't become what you would like to become."

-Bread And Wine
By Ignazio Silone

Today is the last day of tour. Today is the last show of the year. We'll drive to Heather's parents house in Detroit tomorrow. We'll spend Thanksgiving there, and then, when it comes time to leave, we'll have nowhere to go, we'll have anywhere we want to go. I'm anxious to be some place. It won't take much to make me happy, a bed to sleep in, a desk to write at, and the freedom to sing and play guitar without offending neighbors. We have a storage unit full of our belongings back in Gainesville. With the exception of my records, books, photographs, old journals, my grandmother's couch and the $300-400 in rolled pennies, dimes, nickels, and quarters, I could really care less about going back for any of it.


November 26th - 2:42AM. Clarion Suites, Grand Rapids, MI.

Playing tonight I kept hoping that James, Andrew, and Warren would jump onstage out of nowhere and we'd finish the year together.


November 27th - 1:37AM. Grosse Point, MI.

This is my first time visiting the house that Heather grew up in, my first time visiting the neighborhood that Heather grew up in.
We're sleeping in Patrick, her brother's old bedroom, as it has a double bed in it and Heather's old bedroom now has two twins in it.
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. A year ago on Thanksgiving I was playing a show in Chicago. Two years ago I was in L.A. recording an album. Three years ago we were on a tour of all 50 states eating dinner in a hotel room somewhere in America.


November 28th - 1:12AM. Grosse Point, MI

After dinner I washed the dishes. I wanted to wash the dishes. I like to wash dishes. I was paid to wash dishes once and I hated it. The soap and water ruined the callous' on my fingers which were necessary for playing guitar. So I quit. I didn't quit in person, I just stopped showing up. They mailed me my paycheck.
It was a classic vision of Thanksgiving, add in the Tofurkey. Sitting at the table I took in the moment. The people surrounding me are now part of my family. This is my wife. This is the person I grew up to become. This is where I am in life. This is what I'm doing. This is where I hope to go. I'm thankful.

" 'All our life is lived provisionally,' he said. 'We think that for the time being things are bad, that for the time being we must adapt ourselves, even humiliate ourselves but that is all just temporary, and that one day life, real life, will begin. We get ready to die, still complaining that we have never really lived. Sometimes I am obsessed with the idea that we have only one life and spend the whole of it living provisionally, waiting for real life to being. And thus time passes. Nobody lives in the present. Nobody has any profit from his daily life. Nobody can say: On that day, on that occasion, my life began. Even those who enjoy all the advantages of belonging to the governmental party have to live by intrigue, and are thoroughly nauseated by the dominant stupidity. They too live provisionally and spend their lives waiting.' "

- Bread And Wine
By Ignazio Silone

October 31st - November 14th, 2008.

October 30th - 11:09AM. Driving to San Francisco, CA.

With my eyes tightly shut, I held onto the neck of my guitar for dear life. I stumbled through chords. I mixed up verses. I played the songs I wanted to play, and then I played the songs people said they'd like to hear. It was a start.


October 31st - 11:50AM. Driving to Pomona, CA.

I felt excitement like I haven't felt in years. The thrill of playing material that's still new and fresh. The thrill of being completely unsure of yourself, of playing with new musicians, of being scared to death. Conceptually this is nothing different than what you've done thousands of times before, but you've been taken out of your comfort zone.


November 3rd - 2:47PM. Driving to Las Vegas, NV.

We didn't end up getting to Tom Whalley's house until after 1AM. The directions were confusing; we got lost on our way there. We had a couple glasses of wine, made a couple introductions, had some quick conversations and picked at the hors de oeuvres. Tom Whalley ended the party at 2AM. No formal announcement was made that the party was over, but all at once everyone knew it was time to go. He has that kind of ability.
I felt bad for going to the party at Whalley's instead of the after show party that Side One Dummy was throwing. I wanted to spend time with my new tour mates, be a part of the team but I've had limited experiences with Whalley and since opportunities to make new ones are rare, I wanted to take advantage of this one. Tom Whalley was a founder of Interscope records, he now runs Warner Brothers. He told me that when he started Interscope it was with the intention of creating a label were artists could be artistically free to do what they wanted.
Heather and I had brunch with Butch, Beth and Bo before heading down to sound check at the Knitting Factory. We went to a place called "Hugo's" in Studio City. I adore Butch, Beth, and of course Bo. While we were eating they asked if we had given any more thought to moving out there to Los Angeles. Being in the city and feeling like you already have the start of a social life reinvigorates the internal argument of where to move.
The LA show was sold out. It was by far the best of the dates thus far for me. I'm gradually feeling more and more confident about my place in the show. I have an immense respect for all of the musicians on this tour. I'm thankful that I was invited to be a part of it.
We left earlier than needed for San Diego. I was hung-over and could have used the extra hour of sleep. However, being that we were early for the in-store performance, we had time to eat before hand. In-stores are usually awkward experiences. Rarely do record stores have any kind of atmosphere suitable for anything other than shopping. M-Theory Records was no exception. I never know where to look when I'm eye level with an audience, so I close my eyes. The turnout was good and I had fun playing. We stocked up on music for the road while we were there, buying the new album from "High Places", "Vivian Girls", "Times New Viking" and "Lady Ga-Ga", all recommendations from Chris Norris.


November 4th - 1:18PM. Driving To The Grand Canyon.

I softly tapped Cheryl Hines on her shoulder and asked if she would mind taking a picture with me. She smiled and nodded yes. I put my arm around her shoulder and she put her arm around my back. It was a gentle embrace from both sides. Heather snapped the photo and then we all went our separate ways. We were standing on Fremont Street, in the old strip, watching a band play a cover of Loverboy's "Working For The Weekend" when Heather pointed Cheryl out.
"Look, it's the lady from Curb Your Enthusiasm!"
Cheryl was with another woman and two small kids. She was dancing with the kids as the band played. When I looked the way Heather directed, my eyes immediately met Cheryl's. She quickly looked away. She realized she had been recognized.

There was no backstage at the venue. I was in a bad mood, I wasn't sure why. While sitting down on a plastic beach chair behind the stage, watching Ben play, a guy came up to me, squatted down in front of me and put both his hands on my left knee as he started talking. I cut him off and pushed his hands off my knee. I told him I wasn't cool with being touched like that. Sometimes it's unsettling to be touched by a stranger. He asked if I would come take a picture with his friend who he said was too shy to ask.
"Sure, no problem."
I followed him over to two girls standing on the side of the stage. I introduced myself and shook both of their hands. His friend didn't want a photo; she looked annoyed with him for creating the situation. He started prodding and pushing, trying to convince her that she did in fact want the photo taken. Anxiety flushed through my body. It was a commotion, he was loud, and Ben was playing four feet away from us. The girl finally relented and we both posed for the photo. The guy started in to telling me about how much he liked my new album, he talked loud and close to my face, his breath was wretched. Then the other girl exclaimed that she wanted a photo. They started arguing about which camera to use and whether or not to take it together. I had to go. I walked away.
"I'm gonna leave now."

I don't feel right. I didn't feel right last night during the show. I didn't feel right standing at the bar afterwards. I didn't feel right driving to the hotel. I didn't feel right lying in bed waiting to fall asleep. I didn't feel right when I woke up this morning.


November 5th - 2:05AM. Flagstaff, AZ. Quality Inn.

I saw the Grand Canyon for the first time today. After walking along the north rim for a half an hour we raced to Flagstaff and checked into a room. We listened to the election results start to come in on the radio, NPR. Sitting on the hotel room bed we watched as CNN called the election in Obama's favor. We watched John McCain concede defeat from the Biltmore Hotel in Phoenix, just down the interstate from us. Then we watched Obama take the stage in Chicago's Grant Park and address the gathered crowd. It was a moment where I truly felt no cynicism.


November 6th - 12:12PM. Driving to Albuquerque, NM.

It's a seven-hour drive from Tempe to Albuquerque. We left immediately after the show last night to knock out a couple miles of the drive. Checked into a no-name motel, in a no-name town about halfway to Flagstaff. I fell asleep without effort. When I got up to play last night my amp started cutting in and out so I played the whole set on my acoustic. I think I may go ahead and do the same tonight. I think I want to try throwing some different songs in there as well. I still don't feel totally confident in my ability as a solo performer. I'm learning how to talk to the audience. I'm learning how to stand as I play.


November 7th - 12:19PM. Driving to Lubbock, TX.

I remember when I first heard Avail, Tim Barry's band. It was the album "4AM Friday". I was 17 years old and about to embark on my first real road trip, driving to Naples, Florida to Success, MO where my father lives. I had stopped in St. Petersburg, FL for a week to hang out with James. While there I had dubbed a couple albums onto cassette to listen to on the long drive, "4AM Friday" was one of them. It still astounds me that they were able to capture that much energy on a recording. I listened to that album repeatedly on my trip and for years to come. I still have the cassette.
With his hat pulled down low, the stage lights casting shadows on his face, Tim Barry is the spitting image of my father. The similarity is most noticeable from the side, around the eyes. I haven't told Tim about the resemblance as I think that might be an odd thing to say to someone who you don't really know.

The show last night was horrible. The stage sounded completely different than it had at sound check. My guitar sounded thin. I felt like I was playing ukulele. The input jack on my Gibson was also giving me a little bit of trouble, cutting in and out.


November 8th - 10:36AM. Driving to Dallas, TX.

We've been pulled over for speeding twice now in the past 24 hours. Once when I was driving, and once when Heather was driving. Both times the Texas Highway Patrol officer walked up to the side of the car, asked for our respective licenses, asked if we knew why we had been pulled over, asked if there was an emergency, and then proceeded to let us off with just a warning.
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't speed in the state of Texas."
The behavior seems completely uncharacteristic of stereotypical Texas Highway Patrol.
We left before the show ended last night, having to be in Dallas today for a 2PM in-store performance, and it being a 6-hour drive from Lubbock to Dallas. Last nights show got off to a late start and we're lucky the show happened at all. Driving into Lubbock I was under the impression that the show was at "Tequila Jungle". About half an hour away from the city Jill texted Heather to say that the show had been moved to a place called "The Foundation". We redirected ourselves. After load in and sound check we went down the street with Chuck, Jill, Ben, and Jon to the least Irish "Irish Pub" I have ever been to where I drank the worst pint of Guinness I have ever tasted. While ordering my pint I overheard a local pontificate bigotry against the country's new president elect. I bit my tongue. Coming back to the venue we found that in our absence a fire marshal had come and shut the show down. The promoter scrambled to find a new venue. The show ended up moving back to Tequila Jungle, which I was happy about. Given the choice, just based on namesake alone, which would you rather play? "The Foundation" or "Tequila Jungle"?
We listened to Ben's new "mini-album", "Last Pale Light In The West" as we drove out of Lubbock. The perfect songs for empty Texas roads.


November 9th - 12:04PM. Driving to Austin, TX.

I wanted retribution. The in-store at Good Records in Dallas was a horrible experience. The performance was plagued with technical difficulties. There was dead silence in between each song. I tried drowning my frustration in sake at a sushi restaurant afterwards to no avail. All I accomplished was making myself tired and thus more irritable. We check into a La Quinta just outside of downtown and promptly fell asleep for an hour. I had something to prove when I got onstage later that evening at The Prophet Bar. Yesterday was my birthday and I was determined to have a good show. I did just that. Heather got me a book of Bob Dylan's paintings, a Crass 7", two bird prints, and a decoupage letter tray with birds on it. She also had a cake waiting for me back at the hotel after the show. I drunkenly blew out the candles. If I made a wish it has been forgotten.


November 10th - 12:07PM. Driving to Houston, TX.

I have another in-store today at 2PM. Tomorrow is a day off. We plan on driving to New Orleans to stay with Heather's father. I plan on sleeping in before we start heading that way. I'm tired, very tired. It was a long day yesterday. The first meal I had was after 7PM. Not having had the chance to eat breakfast or lunch I relied on beer and gin to get me through the show. After playing I had Oliver Peck tattoo Heather's name on my chest, just above my heart, in her handwriting. I've though about the tattoo for a while now and I'm glad to have finally gotten it done.


November 11th - 5:17PM. Driving to New Orleans, LA.

"Check out time!" and the line went dead.
I looked at my cell phone. It was 10AM. With the air conditioner set to "High Cool" I was wrapped in blankets, wrapped in sleep. So much for sleeping in...
Having been told that a lot of hotels were booked up in anticipation of a hurricane that night be heading this way we decided that we wouldn't drive far. Calling around from hotel to hotel we got the same response, no vacancy. The Scottish Inn had rooms. $50 rooms, just on the edge of Houston.
What makes a hotel quality is often misunderstood. A mini-fridge means nothing unless it has a mini-bar inside of it, mini-bottles of liquor, a couple cans of beer, wine, and snacks. HBO is a joke, and the question isn't "Does the room have 'Movies On Demand'?" the question is "How many movies are available on demand?" What's the shampoo like? What color is it? Orange is a bad sign. Is it name brand or generic two in one shampoo plus conditioner? What's the presentation like? HOw are the bottles arranged? Was effort made? How much effort? Are there logos on the towels? How white are the towels? What about the toilet paper? When you check into the room is the end of the roll neatly folded into a perfect triangle? And then there's the wi-fi. Ironically enough, the more you have to pay for wi-fi, the nicer the hotel is. How many pillows are on the bed? Are there different types of pillows? What about the bedding? Is it an actual comforter? And the sheets, how high is the thread count? Is there a restaurant in the lobby? Room Service? Laundry? Business center? Is there a workout room? If so is it more that just a treadmill and an elliptical machine? Is there a water cooler? Towels? A TV so you can watch CNN while you exercise? Continental breakfast? What does the continental breakfast consist of? What time is check out? Are they flexible on it? Do they leave a paper outside your door in the morning? Do they slip the bill under your door to expedite check out? What about a points program? Are you rewarded for staying?
The Scottish Inn was 30 grit toilet paper and stained towels. The ceiling was painted to look like a cloudy blue sky. The door latch could no longer be locked due to multiple kick ins in the past. One of the previous occupants had reheated fast food in the microwave so the whole room stank of McDonald's french fries. I felt greasy. My hopes of sleeping in on this day off had been shattered. We got dressed, loaded up the mini-van and got on the road.


November 14th - 3:25PM. Driving to Memphis, TN.

"Are you bored or isolated?"
"What?"
"Are you bored or isolated?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Well you're back here playing video games..."
"Do you usually go up to strangers and ask them questions like that?"
"Well it's just that you're doing that whole rock star thing lately and..."
I just wanted to play video games. It wasn't my fault that the bar had put the games in the back of the room. What kind of fucking question is that? And do you have to ask it while I'm in the middle of playing a fucking video game? If you absolutely cannot restrain yourself from asking such a dumb melodramatic question can you at least give me a quarter to make up for ruining my game? Fucking jerk.

Oct. 22nd - 8:47PM. Salt Lake City, UT

Everyone was asleep when it happened. I didn't want to wake up. Moments before I was sleeping so deeply. I was annoyed. I woke to the sound of my friends screaming, various expletives, inarticulate gasps, the sensation of spinning, and the sound of crashing inside and outside the bus. My eyes opened to blackness. I immediately pressed my hands and feet into the roof of my bunk as hard as I could, bracing for what I did not know.
When it ended, when we stopped moving, our driver Jeremy immediately started calling out names, one by one, checking to make sure everyone was okay. It wasn't until I got out of my bunk that I realized how completely unleveled the bus was to the ground. We were almost on our side. The hallway was a mess of luggage and bags. The front lounge was an explosion of food items, appliances, and broken glass. I looked out the front window and saw that our trailer was laying on it's side in front of us, the contents now littering the highway. Jeremy was outside trying to push it all off to the side of the interstate. Everyone got out to help. Although we were in a van accident years ago, this is the first time anything like this has happened to us in a bus. I always sleep with my pants on just in case something like this happens so that the last thing I have to worry about in the event of an emergency is where my pants are.
Apparently, around 6AM we were driving west on I-80 when we hit a patch of ice. Jeremy lost control of the bus and we spun out of control. Our trailer broke free from it's hitch (it actually ripped the hitch clear off) and slammed into the front of the passenger side of the bus as we spun, not completely shattering a window, but cracking it and breaking it out of the frame inwards. The rear trailer door flew completely off and most of our equipment, and merchandise (t-shirts, cds, records, stickers, pins) were strewn out along the road. We landed, with the trailer on it's side in front of us, in a ditch in the median of the interstate.
A light snow was falling from the sky and the cold was biting despite the adrenaline. The eastbound lanes of I-80, the lanes most of our stuff was laying in (not the direction we had been driving though mind you) was closed to traffic. The westbound lane was not, and, as we all scrambled in the breaking morning light to gather our gear on the side of the road, a semi-truck hit the same patch ice we had. It spun out of control, narrowly missed crashing into the bus, and slid into the same ditch a couple feet behind us. At this point a couple of emergency vehicles had shown up on the scene and it was recommended that we stay out of the bus. Jeremy ran back in for his smokes. I ran back in for my cell phone so that I could call Heather. Shortly after another semi-truck was driving by alongside a car. It clipped the edge of the semi-trailer that was stuck behind us and swerved into the right lane, pushing the car driving alongside it off into the snowy embankment. Then, further down the road, another truck started jack-knifing. It slid to a slow halt in the middle of the interstate blocking all traffic behind it. Both sides of the interstate where then closed.
The semi behind us was pulled out of the ditch by a tow truck first. After emptying the remaining contents of the trailer out onto the side of the road, the tow truck then flipped it right side up and dragged it out of the ditch. Then the bus was finally pulled out. Jordan caught a ride into Rawlins, Wyoming, which was the closest town, and rented a U-Haul Truck. We waited there on the side of the road, with the interstate still closed, for him to come back so we could load the U-Haul with our battered and broken gear. Andrew and I drove the U-Haul to Salt Lake City with the bus following behind us. We had to cancel the show tonight. I feel drained akin to jet lag. I am glad to be alive. First and foremost I am glad that we are unharmed, safe, alive.

October 1st through 7th, 2008.

October 1st 2008 - 2:03AM. Birmingham, AL.

After sound check I drove around town with Ryan Russell and took some photos, photos for the purpose of publicity. I appreciated getting away from the venue, seeing some parts of Birmingham that I've never seen before. The city has a certain feel to it that I can't quite put into words. It's the sum of many different parts, the type of business' that comprise the local economy, the architecture of the buildings, the local fashion trends and the landscape. As we drive around I silently cursed myself for not having a more photographic memory to take it all in better. After we finished with photos we ate dinner at The Bottletree Cafe. They have an excellent Buffalo Tofu Wrap.


October 2nd, 2008 - 4:08AM. Driving to South Carolina.

Marty was in the (Young) Pioneers, one of my all time favourite bands. He now plays bass with Ted Leo and The Pharmacists. I talked to him tonight for a second backstage. I tried not to punish him too hard. I tried to play it cool. We usually close our set with a song that references his band, which I brought up to him. He said he was aware of the fact. I felt self-conscious singing it tonight, I imagine I will for the rest of the tour.


October 3rd, 2008 - 2:04AM. Hilton Head, SC.

I watched the first half of the vice presidential debate before our set tonight, I watched the full rebroadcast after. I found myself wanting to physically fight the TV every time Sarah Palin said the word "maverick", every time she winked at the camera, every time she opened her dumb fucking mouth. I hate her face. It is her obvious lack of capacity, lack of intelligence that makes me feel like I have to stoop to throwing elementary school level insults at her.


October 5th, 2008 - 2:51AM. Gainesville, FL.

Tonight's show was somewhat lackluster, something felt off. Maybe it was the venue, the House Of Blues in "Downtown Disney". Maybe it was the fact that last night at Jannus Landing was an amazing rush. I couldn't help but measure the two in comparison while on stage.
I am an honest fan of both Future Of The Left and Ted Leo and The Pharmacists. Sometimes I worry that I don't come off to them as such. I feel like I have a hard time projecting sincerity in person. It's a little easier with Future Of The Left. Since we've toured with them before we already have a relationship. I don't know Ted, Chris, Marty, or James, but I love their band.
Everyone except Andy, Emily, and John went home to Gainesville after the show. Heather and I drove back with Jordan and Sarah. They dropped us off at the Holiday Inn. I haven't been in Gainesville since June.


October 6th, 2008 - 1:09AM. Gainesville, FL.

I met Philipe and Jannick at Leonardo's this morning. They came into town to shoot a piece on Gainesville and my EP for Current TV. We had talked about doing it back in September when I was in Montreal. Philipe's idea was that I would give a guided tour of Gainesville, pointing out areas of both personal significance and spots that are of significance to the local scene and he would mix in some of the music from "Heart Burns". We drove around town for about 2 hours. I showed them No Idea Records, Wayward Council, The Civic Media Center (all of which were closed) and the warehouse spaces on the edge of town where a good majority of Gainesville bands practice. I showed them where the Hardback used to be, where the Ark used to be. I showed them La Casita Blanca, the house where I lived under the staircase when I was 19. I showed them the curb out front that I used to sit on late into the night, watching prostitutes down the street come and go as I wrote lyrics. I showed them the plasma center on Main Street that I used to frequent a couple times a week, selling my plasma for rent and drinking money. And finally I showed them the one and only Laundry mat that I have ever played a show in. The experience was awkward for me and I'm worried that I came across negative at times in answering Philipe's questions about Gainesville.


October 7th, 2008 - 1:00AM. Driving to North Carolina.

My throat is shredded. Today was supposed to be a day off but we ended up booking a last minute show in St. Augustine at Cafe 11. The show was worth it but I could have used the day of rest for my voice. We also missed seeing Jonathan Richman play at Common Grounds in Gainesville. Our next day off is a week away. I've developed a nasty habit of slamming 2 or 3 Red Bulls before playing. It's been my one vice on this tour. It's horrible for my voice, it also wreaks havoc on my stomach, but I love the caffeine high.
I picked up my absentee ballot today.

Sept. 10th - 3:18AM. Driving to Winnipeg.

It doesn't feel like today was a day off. When I woke up, a little before noon, the bus was stopped but the engine was still running. I assumed we were at our hotel, waiting for Jordan to check in and figure out parking. I went into the front lounge to investigate. We were stopped in traffic due to construction; we still had about 80 miles to go. I tried to go back to sleep but I couldn't. I opened up my computer, no internet signal. I checked my cell phone, no reception.
It doesn't feel like today was a day off. I went to sleep with the bus in motion and I woke up still en route. Oh, the monotony of bus life, the ground hog day effect of going to sleep in the parking lot of one club and waking up in the parking lot of another. Each night you pull the grey vinyl curtain of your bunk shut and tuck yourself into bed, falling asleep trying not to imagine all of the horrible acts that have been committed in the name of rock and roll by a 1000 sleazy band dudes on the very mattress underneath your body. Just because the sheets and blankets have been washed doesn't mean the memory of semen, vomit, urine, and god knows what else is gone.
It doesn't feel like today was a day off. Once we actually arrived at the hotel it was almost 2PM. I had an hour's worth of phone interviews followed by at least two hours of computer work to catch up on. I drank a small pot of coffee while doing the interviews. The caffeine hit me hard, not having had any since Los Angeles. Things got manic quickly. I took a walk around 5PM across the highway to the shopping center. Spent an hour walking aimlessly through Future Shop (Canadian version of Best Buy), Chapters (Canadian version of Barnes and Noble) and Wal-Mart (Canadian version of Wal-Mart). All the while feeling paranoid that employees were eyeballing me like I was about to steal something. Suddenly my clothes are that much more dirty, I was in that much more need of a shave and a haircut, my dandruff was that much more uncontrollable. I was hoping to find a Warren Zevon album at the Future Shop (I refuse to buy music from Wal-Mart) but no dice. I came back to the hotel with Listerine, 4 metal forks, 4 metal spoons (I hate using plastic ones) and some anti-biotic ointment for the developing rash on my chest.
It doesn't feel like today was a day off. It's hard to relax when your body is so out of whack, when you have no cycle, no routine, no regular eating times other than "sometime before the show". There were no real food options around the hotel. McDonalds, Taco Time, and some kind of Canadian version of Chili's, Applebee's, Ruby Tuesday, T.G.I Friday, Bennigan's. I ate bus food for dinner, a fake ham and fake cheese sandwich, microwave chili. Drank red wine until my teeth were stained purple and I was calmed down from the caffeine. My curtain is pulled shut and we're on our way again. It doesn't feel like today was a day off.

Studio Journal. - Los Angeles, CA.

August 20th - 12:47AM.

I'm going into the studio tomorrow at 10AM. I'm not sure what we'll do on our first day of recording, but I'm excited. Heather and I are thinking about moving here to Los Angeles. We plan on looking for prospective places while we are here in town.


August 21st - 2:14AM.

Recording, day one. We accomplished a lot today, tracking most everything for "100 Years Of War." I'd like to still add some gang vocals and maybe some other minor percussion, but we have the basics. It's good to see Billy. I enjoy working with him. I've been looking forward to this project all summer long.
Before we left for the night we recorded a rough version of a song I wrote a couple days ago "Cowards Sing At Night." It was the first time I've actually ever sung the song out loud in my full voice. I wanted to do the rough recording for Billy and Butch to hear, to see if they thought it was good enough to record for the EP. I like the song, the melody, but lyrically; I'm apprehensive. I just want to be certain that I stand behind what I wrote. I don't know John McCain. Chances are I''l never meet him. I just know what I've read about him, what I hear about him, the impression he makes, through the media and the politics he preaches. McCain was a POW during Vietnam. People respect his service record, and it's been brought up continually in his bid for the presidency. I disagree with the fundamentals of his platform, I disagree with what he represents. I believe in a woman's right to choose. I believe that people should be free to marry whomever they want to marry, regardless of gender. I think offshore drilling offers no solution to the country's energy crisis. I think healthcare is a right not a privilege. I think that John McCain will not only prolong our occupation of Iraq (indefinitely?) but also lead us, guns blazing, into more conflict. I think John McCain has never stopped fighting the Vietnam War.

Sometimes I look down at my arms or legs and imagine myself an amputee.


August 22nd - 12:03AM.

Recording, day two. Jerry Finn passed away today. Butch came in to the studio and seemed pretty broken up about it. They were friends. I didn't really know what to say so I said nothing.
I met Jerry once, towards the end of when we were recording "New Wave". Jerry was in the studio above us finishing up the last Tiger Army record. Butch and I went up there to see if we could borrow an amp. We brought up some wine in exchange, an offering. We didn't know that Nick 13 was straight edge, Jerry declined. They still let us borrow the amp. My condolences to Jerry's family and friends.


August 23rd - 12:44AM.

Recording, day three. I feel a little under the weather, like I might be getting sick. My body aches, I'm tired. I'm not sure when my next day off is, I can't remember when my last one was. Tropical Storm Fay has been dumping rain on Florida for the past three days now. I called my mom earlier to check in and make sure everything was okay. I text messaged with James and asked him how the weather was in Gainesville. I'm worried that our storage space might flood. I wish I'd put the LP boxes up off the ground. We recorded "Conceptual Paths" today. We moved a little slower than previous days, it was a little more laborious song. We spent a lot of time trying out different effects for the drums and vocals. Heather asked me tonight if I was enjoying recording alone. Yes, I am. I feel conflicted as to whether I should release these songs under the name Against Me! as planned, under a new name, or under my given name. I've never liked my name.


August 24th - 1:08AM.

Recording, day four. While I could have happily slept for another couple of hours I felt much better this morning. We worked on "Anna Is A Stool Pigeon" today, mapping out the tempos. Butch came in a little after noon with Bo. It's amazing to see how much she's grown, how much she's talking! We gave Butch the tempo map for the song, he's going to try and work out a drumbeat for it. After lunch we recorded "I Can't See You, But I Know You're There" and "Cowards Sing At Night". We took a real straightforward approach to the songs, just acoustic guitar on "I Can't See You..." and just an electric (a Jazzmaster played through an old Silvertone) on "Cowards...".
There are ants in my hotel room. They crawl all over my computer as I work through emails. They crawl all over the pages of my notebook as I write. They Crawl all over Heather and I while we sleep. They fill me with guilt as I crush them under my fingers.


August 25th - 12:02AM.

Recording, day five. We hit our first roadblock today. After making progress on the drum part for "Random Hearts", and stumbling by chance into a cool tone with a Fender Baritone played through a Matchless head, we were at a loss as to what we should do for the actual guitar part. It didn't help that we decided, today being Sunday and all, we would make two separate trips to the coffee shop up the street. We got completely jacked on caffeine. It wasn't pretty. I felt like I was saying everything way too loud. I've been working on the song since I got back here to the hotel. I've also been drinking wine in the hopes that I will eventually be able to fall asleep. We're starting late tomorrow, 1PM. This means I get to sleep in. Despite the frustration today I'm trying to keep all the progress we've made thus far in perspective.

3:15AM.

I'm still awake. Watched "Jumper" starring Hayden Christensen and Samuel L. Jackson. Not a great movie at all, but Hayden's performance was Oscar worthy compared to his stilted delivery in the two Star Wars movies he made.
So here I am, 5th floor of the Sheraton, room 507, Los Angeles, California. Andrew and James are back in Gainesville. Warren is in Chicago. Heather asked me tonight if I was serious about moving out here. I said it all depended on the specifics. The cost of living is a lot higher in Los Angeles, CA than in Gainesville, FL. It would also mean that I would no longer live in the same city as the rest of my band. What would happen? How would this affect us? We are going to be recording our next full length out here at some point next year, which would mean we'd be living in Los Angeles for a couple months anyways. We can either find a house to rent somewhere in Florida (other than Gainesville), commute to practice and then live a hotel for a couple months while we're out here in Los Angeles recording. Or, we can get a house here in Los Angeles and I can just travel back to Florida, live in a hotel while writing for the record, then be at home the whole time we are recording. I told Heather that I wasn't sure what we should do, that I'm hoping the answer will reveal itself to me soon.


August 26th - 1:38AM.

Recording, day six. We finished the essential for 3 songs today. "Random Hearts", "Anna", and "Harsh Realms." I was up until will past 4AM last night wrestling with the guitar part for "Random Hearts". I was glad that it worked out. We're not recording tomorrow. I'm going to shoot some videos around town with this guy Jason Thrasher. It's going to be live performances, out in public places. I want to do one for every song on the EP. I met Jason for the first time last night, he came over here to the Sheraton and we had drinks in the lobby. Jason is from Athens, Georgia. He seems like a cool guy.


August 28th - 1:01AM.

Recording, day seven. I'm tired, mentally tired. I've begun mapping out potential song sequences in my head. I'm pretty sure I want to leave off "I Can't See You, But I Know You're There" from the EP. I don't think it fits lyrically or musically. Making the videos went great yesterday, had a lot of fun. It was pretty awesome standing on a rooftop in downtown Los Angeles, singing at the top of my lungs to the endlessly expanding city below, as the sun slowly set. As we sat huddled in the dark watching the playback on the camera, laughing, talking, drinking beers, I felt like I was 19 again. Life was dangerous and exciting. All ideas were possible and should be followed with passion. The future was unpredictable. I want to always feel that way.


August 28th - 7:58PM.

Recording, day eight. The right side of my mouth is throbbing. The pain feels like it's coming from around my crown. Before my dentist died he told me that I needed to have it replaced, that it wasn't sealed properly and that food could get stuck in it, possibly causing infection. I wish I had dental insurance.
Craig Aaronson is coming by the studio with Holly Adams, our new production manager, tomorrow at 11:30. We have been left completely alone by the label up until this point, which I have not minded at all. I think their expectations are modes, if not low. We finished early tonight and Billy gave me a ride back to the hotel. I've really enjoyed hanging out with Billy. We've had a relaxed schedule while recording. Show up around 11, go get coffee, record for a couple hours, go get lunch, record for a couple hours, go get more coffee. Billy is a caffeine addict like me.
We recorded a cover of The Replacements song "Here Comes A Regular" today for the 50th anniversary comp that Warner is putting out. As a band we've covered the Replacements before, we recorded a cover of "Bastards Of Young" for a tribute comp a couple years ago. I was hesitant at first to cover them again. But, considering the fact that if I didn't cover the 'mats for this comp no one else would have, I thought it was fitting to do.
I've listened to that song a million times before. I never realized just how sad the lyrics were until I sang them today.

"You're like a picture on a fridge that's never stocked with food."


August 29th - 11:24PM.

Recording, day nine. Chuck Ragan came into the studio today, played harp and sang on "Anna Is A Stool Pigeon". He completed the song, I'm grateful to him for taking the time to come down and do it. We're doing backing vocals tomorrow, "gang vocals". I've invited Lex and Lauren who run againstmeforum.com, as well as a couple other people. This guy Danny wrote into the band email account saying he heard from his friend who works at the studio that I was recording here. He said he used to work here and he now regretted that he no longer did, that he would have liked to have gotten the chance to meet me. I asked if he wanted to come down and help out with gang vocals tomorrow. The gang vocals are all that's left to record. We're hoping to have the EP mixed and mastered, everything finished, artwork and all, by the end of next week. I'm going to call the record "Heart Burns".


August 30th - 7:18PM.

Recording, day ten. We finished all tracking today. Lex and Lauren brought their friend Stephanie with them. Danny brough his friend Ricky. Zach who works at the studio helped out as well. Heather came down with Matt and Monica. Butch brought down a bottle of Duckhorn for everyone. Beth and Bo listened from the control room. I wrote the lyrics down on big sheets of paper and taped them up on the control room window. As everyone sang I stood on the couch and did my best to direct the choir through the glass. Thanks everyone for helping out!
Tomorrow is our last day in the studio, it's also Billy's birthday. Heather and I gave him copies of the new Conor Oberst solo album, and Mark Lannegan's "Bubblegum" as a gift. We mixed a couple songs last night after the gang vocals were done.


August 31st - 12:03AM.

Recording, day eleven. Heather was supposed to leave this morning. She was flying to New Orleans to visit her Dad. They began evacuating New Orleans today because of Hurricane Gustav, which it looks like is headed right for the city. The mayor said it was the "Storm Of The Century", he urged everyone to leave, warning whoever stayed behind that it would be the "mistake of their lives", and that they should make sure then have an axe to chop their way through the roof as the waters rise. Heather is now leaving tomorrow for Florida. I leave for Montreal on Monday. I'm sad to leave. I feel like a different person out here, I feel more like myself, more at ease. I feel lighter. Recording for the past 11 days has been a positive and fulfilling experience. It's made all those nights this past year when I've chosen to go back to my hotel room, or back to the bus, and write instead of going out and partying, worth it. I feel energized, excited about making music and writing.

Japan

August 7th - 7:52PM. NWA Flight #69, Detroit to Osaka

I didn't plan on drinking today. But, here I am, how many thousands of feet in the air, starting my 3rd mini-bottle of white wine, washing down a "Norco" (some kind of pain killer) that James, the window to my aisle, gave me. There aren't personal TVs in the back of the seats on this flight, what else is there to do? I finished reading John McCain's book "Faith Of My Fathers" and surrendered to a drink. I read Obama's book first, "The Audacity Of Hope." It's interesting to read the book of someone whom you've heard talk so much on television. Your internal reading voice is replaced by theirs. Obama and McCain read their books to me, I just turned the pages.

August 9th - 9:58AM. Osaka, Japan. Rihga Royal Hotel, Room 1160

I didn't stay out late last night, choosing instead to come back to the hotel after dinner and go to sleep. Hiromi, our translator and guide while we're in Japan, took us out to eat. The restaurant, about a 10 minute walk from the hotel, was tucked down an alley and on the 2nd floor of a non-descript building. There was no signage and we never would have found the place on our own. I'm guessing maximum capacity of the one room establishment was probably 30 people tops. The food was excellent.
We're leaving for the festival at noon, our set time is 3:25. We then have an 8:20 flight to catch heading for Tokyo, so we won't be able to stick around and watch any of the bands. We'll have more time to hang out in Tokyo.

August 11th - 9:46AM. Tokyo, Japan. Grand Prince Hotel, Akasaka. Room 2148

Coldplay were incredible last night. I'm a big fan of their new album. It was my first time seeing them play. They are talented musicians individually, and together they form an exceptionally tight band. The drummer doesn't drop sticks, he hits hard. The bass player is locked into the rhythm, he's not too flash. The guitarist didn't miss a note. Chris Martin exudes personality and energy. Ever since last night I've been trying to fight off a defeated feeling of jealousy. I've been at war with the voice inside my head that keeps saying "You'll never make it. You'll never know what it feels like to command a stadium full of people in Tokyo. Your band just isn't good enough." I want to believe. I want to believe that with hard work and determination I can go anywhere, do anything. Sometimes it's hard. Say what you will about Coldplay, I don't aspire to emulate their band. I aspire to reach as many people as they do, that has nothing to with money or fame, it has to do with art. That's my dream.
Tokyo was much better for us than Osaka. We played better as we were less jet lagged, and the crowd was more receptive. I got to see MGMT and Crystal Castles play again, for the second day in a row. MGMT are still horrible live, which is disappointing cause I love their album. Crystal Castles were once again incendiary, another highlight of the festival for me. Coming over here to play the Summer Sonic Festival has been a great experience. It is by far the most well organized festival we have ever played, as well as the most artist friendly. There was no hierarchy among the bands, ever one had the same quality catering, our wrist bands got us access to any stage (not just our own), and our hotel accommodations were more than adequate. I really hope to come back to Japan some day soon on our own tour. This is an amazing country.

August 11th - 10:58AM. Berkeley, California. Double Tree Hotel, Room 3137

I had my alarm set for 9AM but woke up around 8 this morning. I didn't leave my hotel room until our noon lobby call, spending my last hours in Tokyo organizing my luggage, checking emails, and writing.
I slept the good majority of the 10 1/2 hour flight from Narita to SFO. Our plane left half an hour early due to volcanic eruptions in the Allution Islands. I felt rushed once through security and instead of casually looking through the duty free shops and then eating some breakfast, I wolfed down a bowl of rice, a bottle of sake, and two bottles of white wine before boarding. James was once again the window to my aisle and after take off we started ordering more wine. X amount of bottles and 1 1/2 "Norcos" later I was fucked up. I passed out while attempting to watch the new Disney remake of the Hunchback Of Notre Dame. In my lucid pill and alcohol induced state I remember being furious over the liberties Disney took with changing the Hugo's classic novel to cater to their bottom line. It should be illegal to change to content of a classic story and sell it under the same name to people. Victor is dead, his book is not.
When I finally woke up the flight crew was starting the breakfast service, which meant we had about an hour before landing. I felt nauseous. James commiserated the feeling with me. I was worried I wasn't going to make it through the immigration process. I was worried that the customs officer would start asking questions and I would just vomit all over him. Thankfully I made it through without incident. Heather made it to Berkeley a couple hours before me and had already check in and settled into our room. By the time I got to the hotel I felt like the whole world was rocking back and forth like a ship at sea. I felt like my legs might collapse beneath me at any moment. I kept having to brace myself against the walls as I paced around the room telling Heather about my trip. We ordered room service and then promptly fell asleep. We napped until around 7PM. Our hotel is right on the bay. After waking up, Heather and I took a walk around the marina, along the shore line. Walking down the pier it was hard to imagine that somewhere out there, across the bay, past San Francisco, across the seemingly endless Pacific Ocean, life in Japan carried on.

July 30th - Driving to Cincinnatti, Oh

Heather's Grandmother passed away. She got the new from her Father yesterday. She has been greatly affected by the loss, breaking down into tears at random all day long. I did my best to try and take her mind off it. After her work day was over we watched Forrest Gump in the front lounge. She had never seen it before. We didn't finish the movie, going to bed right as Forrest meets his son for the first time. I never met Heather's Grandmother, I wish I would have gotten the chance. I told Heather I would take care of sending her Father flowers, it was his mother that passed away. I'm not sure what to write in the card.

July 18th - 11:12PM. Driving To Toronto

"I couldn't sleep all night long; a fog-horn was groaning incessantly on the sound, and I tossed half-sick between grotesque reality and savage, frightening dreams."
-"The Great Gatsby"
F. Scott Fitzgerald

I have trouble falling asleep at night; drinking helps. When I do finally fall asleep it's not for long. I usually wake up each morning around 5AM in a hot sweat. The air conditioner on the bus needs freon or something like that I'm told. I can't sleep when I'm hot. I stumble into the front lounge, use the bathroom, drink some water. Sometimes I read, sometimes I write, sometimes I stare out the window vacantly as endless miles of interstate unfold before the bus. Eventually I lay back down in the bunk where I toss and turn until 7AM, when the bus has arrived wherever we are, and Heather wakes up to start her day. The I fall asleep until around 11AM. The bunks in the bus are small, they're not made to sleep two people. Regardless, I prefer to have Heather in the bunk with me than not.
We played early today, second on our stage. I woke up hung-over from a late, blurry night before. I drank a beer, then a vodka/CapriSun cocktail before playing. Unexpectedly, the crowd was one of the better that we've had thus far on the tour. The sun had yet to drain the energy out of everyone. After our signing, Heather and I went out to dinner with her parents. They still make me feel nervous, awkward. I'm married to their daughter, I want them to like me. It doesn't help that I haven't showered in 10 days.

July 5th - 1:09PM. Selma, Texas @ The Verizon Wireless Amphitheatre

  "Please just don't let me be boring." I was nervous all day long before the show.

  "Please just don't let me be boring." The thought kept running through my head. I was worried I was going to forget words. I was worried I was going to forget chords. But, above all, I was worried I was going to be boring.

  We woke up in Austin and checked into our rooms at the Sheraton downtown. After taking showers, Heather and I went for lunch at Mekong River. It was a 5PM load in at Emo's, not that I had much to load in, two guitars and an amp. Jordan walked down to the venue with me. I felt like a real cliche walking around downtown Austin carrying an acoustic guitar.

  We weren't at Emo's for more that 5 minutes before Andrew W.K. walked in. He immediately came up and introduced himself. We talked for a second. Andrew seems like a genuinely nice person, a genuinely positive person. I watched him sound check as I changed my guitar strings. After my own sound check I walked back to the hotel. I wasn't playing until 10:50.

  It had been a long time since I'd played a show by myself. I was hoping for disinterest and a lack of attention. I was hoping for anonymity and an empty room. Emo's was packed, with most of the crowd being made up of bands and crew from the Warped Tour. Everyone had the day off and everyone went to Austin. I played 7 songs total, only one of which I'd ever played live before. I kept it short.

  Playing a show alone is entirely different from playing a show with a band. The pressure rests solely upon you to perform. The only sounds being made will be coming from you, the only movements being made will be your own. Last night I was too nervous to do much other than close my eyes and hope for the best, hang on for dear life and wait for the ride to end. After the show was over I felt foolish for being so intimidated. I wished I had owned the moment. 

June 29th - Denver, Colorado

The singer said they were from Seattle, this was the last show on their tour.

He had a musical note tattoo'd on his right forearm, I took it as a sign of self affirmation.

Their sound was derivative of Pavement, Built To Spill, Weezer, and Death Cab For Cutie.

Awkward stage banter to an inattentive audience.

They were playing to the back of the room.

They were playing for gas money to make it home. 

Fender Stratocaster with an abalogna pic guard.

Grey t-shirt with a red heart printed in the center of the chest.

It was a Sunday night in Denver.

Skinny white kids played indie rock, committed drinkers clapped unenthusiastically from the bar.

The lead guitarists hair hung down over his eyes while he played.

Sometimes you get more of an effect the less effort you put into it.

Who cares if they remember the name of your band.

It was a time and place, I wish you could have seen it.

Kerouac died in St. Petersburg, but there's still poetry alive in Denver.  

July 1st - 11:48AM, Maryland Heights, MO @Verizon Wireless Amphitheatre

Heather and Emily have named the above look "P.S. - Vagina".

We know about the breasts, but look below, don't forget... 

P.S. -Vagina. 

Is that mean? 

June 20th - 7:47PM. Pomona, CA @ The Fairplex

  My eyes are burning. Sunscreen, dirt, and sweat do not mix. "Smells like Warped Tour in here." says James as he walks onto the bus. The sun has yet to fully set in the sky and we are all already filthy and exhausted. It's going to be a long summer but I'm excited about it. 

  We played at 3:50 today, the sun beating down directly on our faces. There's nothing that can really prepare you for playing outside in 106 degree weather, the first couple of shows are going to hurt, there's no way around it.

  "Tweedle Dee" was waiting for us back behind our stage after our set. He had not told us that he would be there today. We fired our manager recently and have been taking meetings with new prospective managers. We've only taken three meetings thus far and I'm sick of them already. "Tweedle Dee" had contacted me by email a couple of days prior saying he'd be interested in talking to the band about possibly working with us.  Yesterday we had lunch with "Tweedle Dee" and his assistant "Tweedle Dum" at a Thai Restaurant not far from the Fairplex. I knew he wasn't the right fit from the moment I saw him. He confirmed this when he started telling us about all the opportunities out there for us to tour places overseas playing for U.S. Army troops. You just don't really get it man, do you? He then went on to completely sign his own death certificate with us when I asked him to name all four of our full length albums. He could not. He said that kind of knowledge wasn't really important. 

  So, I was surprised to see him backstage considering just how horrible our meeting went. I mean, I thought it was obvious to everyone. I was also annoyed, he had absolutely no tact whatsoever. We were dying at the moment, gasping for breath, and he's all up in our business pushing agenda. Back off a little, in fact, fuck off. 

  At 5:30 we met with fans at our tent; signed posters, signed t-shirts, signed cds, signed records, signed seven inches, signed ticket stubs, refused to sign body parts, and took pictures. We were there for two hours, making memories, good times. 

  

Quote of the day: "You're like the only band on Warped Tour that my dad likes." 

June 16th - 7:04PM, Tucumcari, New Mexico

 This is what Tucumcari, New Mexico looks like. 

June 11th - 2:48AM, Paris, France

  There is no difference between Paramore and Babyshambles. This is the conclusion I came to after watching each band's set at the "Rock Am Park" festival in Nurnberg Germany on Sunday. Pete Doherty plays the part of the poet clown while Haley Williams plays the teen pop star.

  I had tried to see Babyshambles play the day before, at "Rock In Ring" in Nurberg Germany, but the band did not show. The rumored explanation was that they were stuck in traffic. I had already given up hope that I would see them this time because I expected them to just not show up again. When i got a text from Warren saying that the band had actually taken the stage, I rushed over. 

  Babyshambles' music seems to be a complete reflection of Pete Doherty's personality. He stumbles around the stage in a drunken manner to the rhythm of the songs with ease. He helps himself to the various beverages set on top of the amplifiers. He takes long pulls off of his cigarette and then exaggerates each exhale slowly. Everyone smokes, even the techs, lighting up one cigarette as the other goes out. When not playing his guitar, Pete sings with one hand in his pocket, rocking back and forth on his heels. His banter between songs sounds like he's mocking Keith Richards. When someone in the audience throws a bottle on stage he picks it up and throws it right back at them. A shoe follows shortly after and he does the same. I look around and everyone seems entranced, they raise their hands into the air and clap along without any prompting. But the music isn't being played for the people to dance to. The music is being played so Pete and his band can look cool while playing it. The whole thing is an act, a well rehearsed, well thought out performance.

  I had no plans to watch Paramore play this weekend. We played some festivals with them in the states this past year and I'd watched a couple minutes of their sets then. It's not my thing.We played on the same stage this weekend and both days our dressing rooms were side by side. We ended up playing a couple games of Foosball together and talking a little on Saturday. They seem like nice people. I decided I would watch their set on Sunday. Paramore are a tight band, they have obviously been on tour for a while now. You can tell the songs are muscle reflex to them. Their young crowd responds to them, they know every word to every song. They are rabid for them. After the show we somehow ended up with a copy of their computer printed set list. The breaks for Haley to talk to the audience were planned into the set. Three songs - Haley Speaks - two songs - Haley speaks - two songs - Haley Speaks - two songs - Haley speaks - last song. The whole thing is an act, a well rehearsed, well thought out performance.

  Babyshambles make a conscious decision when they choose not to mute their guitars as they tune on stage. They could easily do so with a Boss tuning pedal. Costing around $100, they are a standard and every band uses them live. Babyshambles want the crowd to hear them tuning in between songs. It's as conscious of a decision when Paramore decides they want the 3 ego boxes up front on the stage for them to dance and jump on for dramatic effect. Pete Doherty sitting down on the drum riser mid set and taking off all of his necklaces for no apparent reason is a spontaneous act, but it's a planned spontaneity. It's as plotted when Paramore's guitarist runs, jumps into the air and rolls off the back of the bass player. There is no difference, both bands are putting on a show, their shows just have different aesthetics. Each band's members just have different philosophies in their approach to the stage. Paramore's dyed, flat ironed hair is no different from Babyshambles' "I can't be bothered to comb or style my hair" look. Both bands  care about what they are doing in the same way. Paramore have their printed out set list and each member (guaranteed) does the exact same move, at the exact same time, in the exact same spot on stage each night. Babyshambles just kind of wanders on stage and jam into songs, each musician starting to play whenever they feel like it. It takes effort for Paramore to be so tight. It takes the same amount of effort for Babyshambles to be so loose.

  Both bands have a frustratingly great sense of melody. I like Babyshambles' music. I own both of their albums. I don't like Paramore's music but cannot deny that, the morning after the show, I woke up humming the melody to one of their songs. There is no difference between Paramore and Babyshambles. This realization has greatly troubled me over the past couple days. I want to find some contrast, but I cannot. 

June 7th - 10:47AM, Driving in Germany

  We arrived at Heathrow early in the morning yesterday. After claiming our bags and getting through customs and immigration we were picked up by our bus. I immediately crawled into my bunk and fell asleep. I was still running on momentum, but I knew jet lag would soon be catching up with me. We were only hours away from our set time and I wanted to have some energy for the show. 

  We were supposed to have arrived in London the day before, which would have given us a full nights rest before the show. We were also supposed to get tattoo'd on London Ink that day after checking into our hotel. Our flight from Tampa on the 4th was cancelled due to weather in D.C., which is were our connection was. Our flight was rescheduled for the next day, the 5th. We interpreted the cancellation as a sign from god that our planned matching tattoo's of a shovel with a banner reading "Dig Deep" was a bad idea.

  It was impressive walking into Wembley, with a capacity of well over 70,000 people it is by far the largest venue we have ever played. Even though we were just the opening band it felt like a real accomplishment to play there. Our set time was 5:30PM, it was over before I had time to break a sweat. With few exceptions the crowd had absolutely no idea who we were, nor did they care. We played our 10 songs, I thanked the crowd and the Foo Fighters for having us and then we were out. 

  Backstage, after the show I accidently bumped my shoulder into Brian May's as I was walking into the after party. Woah.

June 1st - 11:41PM, Gainesville, FL

I booked time with Rob Mcgregor and recorded an 11 song demo without the rest of my band while I was home these past couple weeks. Im excited about the results. I started making a serious, focused effort at song writing this past January 1st. I had set a goal of writing 10 songs by May 1st. I wrote 14 songs. The demo was the first time James, Warren, or Andrew had heard the new songs. We tried a couple of them as a full band at practice this past Friday. 

May 30th - 6:44PM Gainesville, FL

  My dentist is dead. I received a letter from his office in the mail a couple of months ago informing me of the news. While I had only been his patient once for a routine cleaning, I was shocked to read that he had died. From that one visit I had developed a strong affinity for him, an affinity that I felt was reciprocated. I hate going to the dentist but I liked Dr. Herrington. I trusted that he wouldn't hurt me.

  The December following my single appointment I got a Christmas card from Dr. Herrington wishing me a "Happy Holidays". On the front of the card was a picture of him surrounded by his all female staff. It was a considerate gesture.

  Now, a year later, my wisdom teeth are coming in. The bottom one, number "32" in particular is causing me pain. I feel the ache of it pushing through the gum sideways. It causes me to bite down on my cheek, exasperating the situation. Not sure if the office would be open, with it being Dr. Herrington's private practice and Dr. Herrington being dead, I called. My call was answered,

  "Dr. Herrington's office, how may I help you?"

  I introduced myself to the receptionist and told her that I had been a patient there before. I told her that I was having problems with my wisdom teeth and wanted to have them checked out. She said they had an opening at 10:45 the following morning. She said nothing about Dr. Herrington's passing, which struck me as odd. Maybe I had imagined the letter.

  The next day I showed up early for my appointment. I half expected to see Dr. Herrington walking around behind the reception desk, moving from patient to patient, but he was not there. I was seen instead by a new dentist, Dr. Goslinga. He was young, in his early 30's. A short, portly, red haired man, who was only going to become more portly with age; the kind of character who would sweat a lot and flush bright red if outside even briefly on a hot summer day. He spoke with a thick southern accent. X-rays were taken and the prognosis was given. My wisdom teeth needed to come out. I was referred to an oral surgeon. 

  There was no memorial plaque hanging on the wall to commemorate Dr. Herrington, no mention of his passing at all. I did not ask how he died. There is an air of sorrow, of loss, permeating the practice that still bears his name. His girls are still deep in mourning and have yet to accept the permanence of his absence. 

May 30th - 1:30AM, Gainesville, FL

"Like all weak men he laid an exaggerated stress on not changing one's mind."

   -Somerset Maugham

"Of Human Bondage"