i am going to Texas and will probably see some Chaos in Tejas shit, despite probably being blackballed from ever playing it. i guess that’s what you get when you send a bunch of emails about Ozzfest and Marilyn Manson to the organizer of a punk festival.
Condominium will be on tour soon. or something. they are one of Minneapolis’ best bands and one time, someone told me that they thought we were better than them. but its not really true, so make sure you go see them.
Brain Tumors also played with Shaved Women from St. Louis last week in St. Paul. it was great because Ben from Much Worse blew beer foam at the owner of the house out of anger because he would not let Much Worse play due to cops showing up. Shaved Women were as good or even better than the movie Sister Act 2.
i’ve also still been listening to a shitload of Marilyn Manson, although the spell is starting to wear off. i cant think of anything else to say so here’s some shit about Cincinnati
———————
we woke up at the motel and headed towards Cincinnati.
the last time i was there, i was with my friends in this uhhh….metalcore(?) band called At All Cost, from Austin. i first thought they were ridiculous and sucked. then eventually after spending a few weeks with them, i realized they were a unique and awesome band and i stopped being a dickbag and enjoyed some Cher vocorder shit. and this was pre-every dopey shitty band using vocorder. but then again, i’m the dude who keeps listening to Marilyn Manson so what the fuck do i know. anyway, i went on to do another short tour with them with
HATEBREED, AGNOSTIC FRONT, GOD FORBID, NECRO, and THY WILL BE DONE
so yeah, imagine fucking that. this shit with all that. it was fucked and their manager was Rob Blasko, who should be best known as the bassist for Cryptic Slaughter but instead is known as the bassist for Rob Zombie and Ozzy Osbourne. he also went on to put At All Cost on a fucking tour with Today is the Day.
in Cincinnati, me and the At All Cost boys ate chili and went to go see Alien VS. Predator 2. it was about as good as you probably think At All Cost is. i remember i snuck into the movie by pulling out my cell phone and pretending i was yelling at someone in an irate way so no one would stop me. later, we went to the guitarist’s uncle’s house and shot each other with bottle rockets. we lit a camp fire and got really drunk. their drummer stood in the campfire while his shoes melted and cried. someone burned a guitar. i slept in a child’s Dora the Explorer tent, under a christmas tree, and when i woke up, i found out that the rhythm guitarist got pissed on by the crying drummer while he was asleep.
needless to say, i was excited to go back to Cincinnati, the windy city. the city of lights. Cincinnati, the land of 10,000 lakes. more importantly, i was excited to see fucking White Walls, who maybe have since broken up. we first caught them at Total Fest where they engrossed and disturbed a large crowd in a dark, downstairs room at a club. then we played with them in Olympia at the show where i smashed a bottle on my head like a fucking idiot. both times, they were stellar.
i shaved off my mustache at the motel and immediately had a woman at the first gas station call me “honey”, making me realize how shitty i really looked. i saw a dude in a Misfits hat and listened to Aerosmith or Jet (there is no difference in quality) while we all waited by the door of the one person bathroom. the bathroom was labeled “not an exit”.
the drive was windy and rough with piece of shit truck drivers driving like pieces of shit. we passed tons of gigantic Jesus signs.
we got to Cincinnati, the city that never sleeps, and showed up at Alex and BJ from White Walls’ home. we met some dogs and then went to a place called Skyline Chili. our waitress looked like she listened to Avril Lavigne. we looked like we listen to harsh noise because we are all ugly. or maybe bluegrass. BJ told us a story about blowing up mailboxes. the chili was good.
we went to Shake It, the local more than decent record store. rory bought some shit and we all pooled together some money to buy pat a Nirvana “Bleach” shirt, as it was his birthday. i tried to find some shitty stickers to buy, but because Shake it was a more than decent record store, all they had were stickers of good bands.
we went back to the house where we found out that Alex’s dog’s name, from the previous owner, used to be “Nigga Dog”. we found out that the venue we were playing at, from the previous owner, used to be called Blue Rock Tavern and they used to have crusty shows and someone got shot in the bathroom with an assault rifle. so now it’s a gay bar. we also learned that Cincinnati is the sister city to Munich, Germany. we hung out and BJ bought us beer. White Walls practiced in the basement. i put on a brown wig for the evening.
we got to The Chameleon and loaded. some woman said “hi” to me because a wig makes me into a sexual tyrannosaurus. i watched a couple across the street almost have sex on a car until the girl got mad. then i got worried the guy was raping her. then they left. i went inside and stared at some kid eating Kentucky Fried Chicken. Kitchen Fried Chicken. i put Pink Floyd’s “Echoes” on the jukebox and followed it with the double whammy combo of “One of These Days” by Pink Floyd. i stared at a girl’s Beyonce backpack. the show’s audience was limited but decent and everyone seemed to know each other. i took note of a TJ Max advertisement on the TV for the concept of “Maxxinista”, which insulted me.
Gazer played. it sounded like some dysfunctional Level Plane shit. Parts of it were good, like the guitar and bass. the drumming was fucking awful. at one point, it seemed like they had to teach the dude how to count off. i dont mean to be a bastard and slag people because i know everyone has to start somewhere, but i had to listen to it. pat yelled “your bass drum is upside-down,” (because it was) and walked away. Happy Birthday, Perfect Patrick.
two dudes showed up after Gazer’s set to play an open jam session. they were informed that tonight was not an open jam session. then a buy who had been lingering around the back who seemed like he was going to ask people for money and cigarettes and free shit got kicked out. he may have been strung out, but he was actually a nice guy. evidently his friend was just murdered.
we played and maybe it was good. i think someone yelled “nice _____, faggot” and i invited the dude to come punch me. i wrote “nice soundguy and people do not leave, good show.”
after our set, some dude in overalls told me a story about an open mic night at a place called Baba Budans where he saw some dude rapping about Charles Manson and killing all the blacks. i think he said the dudes name was Lethal Injection Deadly Weapon. i have no idea why i am writing this down other than that i feel obligated.
i saw some dude with an Anwar Sadat backpatch, which was a band we were playing with in Birmingham, AL fairly soon. the dudes name was Daisy and i found out he was in this band that i once claimed would be the next Queen. the band is called Foxy Shazam. as everything is connected, my friend Katie (whose brother plays in Heartless) is dating some dude in that band and i have some friends in Minneapolis that used to tour with them. so we talked, drank, shot the shit, whatever. he gave me a note to give to Anwar Sadat when I saw them.
White Walls played a brutal and nihilistic set. everyone in Brain Tumors loved it and i think so did everyone in the room. we hung out and drank more while the bartender talked to us about Chumbawamba. some dude bought our XXXL shirt and gave us extra money for no reason. we went back to Alex and BJ’s and their friend, John, made us a fucking feast at 3am.
