i hit my head on dan’s drum cymbal. i have done it probably 40 times before. no one has ever noticed that i do it (that i know of), even pat and joel. during the last song we played in the basement of a mercado for our friend jaime carrera’s performance festival, i hit my head on dan’s cymbal again. but i was too drunk or too stupid or too sad or too angry and nailed the wingnut. so i bled a lot. i did not get knocked out, but i got very dizzy for a moment.
i read a book on head injuries that basically explained that most of your problems in life could potentially stem from them. since this happened i have experienced the following things that will probably go away:
– feeling tired/more relaxed
– not remembering shit i just said or thought
– seeing a lot of animals and people out of the corners of my eyes
– hearing a lot of weird electrical buzzing noises that i never noticed (similar thing happened after i lost my virginity)
i have since resolved to no longer hit myself in the head anymore. it will be a tough thing to stop doing (there is video footage of me smashing my head against the wall as a toddler), but i would like to stop doing it now. i also stopped throwing heavy things at crowds of people, which is a fucking horrible and dumb thing to do.
SOLID ATTITUDE from iowa city has two new songs available for your listening pleasure.
here is an article about how modern art was used as a CIA weapon. i havent read it but i like the headline.
WHATEVER BRAINS from North Carolina also have a new LP out through Sorry State. you should listen to them because they are our friends but more importantly, they are a great band that just got reviewed by the guy from Les Savy Fav. he said they sound like they have obviously been influenced by Mr. Bungle. HAAAAAAAAAA.
also the jobless rate for poor black teens who have dropped out of school is 95%. here is an article about it.
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so we woke up at this fucking zany hotel. on the way there, rory played Nick Cave and Angels of Light as we drove through the night passing rocky terrain with casinos. here are some goddamn fucking pictures of this weirdass motel.
there was a gas station nearby. part of it was…i don’t want to say “being renovated” so instead i will say part of it was vacant and fucked up. there was also a movie rental area where many of the movie boxes were sun-bleached and almost unreadable. there were a lot of action movies. there was a porn section too, but i don’t know why i didn’t go in there.
oh yeah, because the whole fucking place was sketchy and i didnt think going into the porn room would help the public view of me.
i bought some fried okra from a nearby diner that i think pat and joel and ? and ? and ? may have eaten at and said was pretty decent. i went out back of the motel and looked in the dumpster to reveal a discarded Days Inn sign.
then we fucked off to St. Louis.
i texted the King of St. Louis, Rob Ruzicka of Cardiac Arrest with questions as to where we should go in one of our favorite cities on the planet. so Rob, being the King of St. Louis, told us to go to a place called “The Silver Ballroom” (http://thesilverballroom.com/). outside, we saw a poster of Norm MacDonald advertising something.
THEN WE FOUND OUT THAT THE SILVER BALLROOM WAS AN PINBALL ARCADE/BAR. so we played some pinball. i think there was a Rolling Stones or Aerosmith pinball game that was fucking bullshit, so word to the wise on that one. i remember the bartender was a nice guy and there were a hundred trillion punk/metal stickers on the bar countertop. and the place was strangling me with cigarette smoke. i ordered some shot that was on special and lusted over some jamaican beef patties being sold from behind the bar. but i did not eat them for some reason.
it was dark by the time we left and we ended up at a grocery store. i can’t remember who we were with and my notes don’t exactly exist for St. Louisl. i think we bought some potato chips. or alcohol. i really have no idea – all i can remember are the boring emotions i had while staring at people leaving the grocery store.
we arrived to the Bonerville manor and observed some new spray paint on a nearby building. Gas Rag from Chicago had been there recently. you can listen to their stupidly good demo here.
then we did some other stuff and saw more people that we liked. the usual cast of morons and freaks that help make St. Louis the best place we know of. Who Fucking Cares? kicked the show off and played probably the best set we’ve seen of theirs, closing with a 9 Shocks Terror cover. they played mostly in the dark as the single light in the room kept going out. i wrote something about women flashing people as well.
i wrote that Coaxed played next, followed by Killer Blow, both from another one of our favorite places – Omaha, Nebraska. Coaxed was really good and Killer Blow was “bass heavy noisy decent stuff”. then i wrote about how some random black lady spontaneously developed a crush on me and kept kissing me on the neck and apologizing that she had to leave.
ben and i talked about formulating a stand up comedy tour. he told me about ten jokes that i didn’t get, but when he told them again, i found them to be completely hilarious. we played shortly after that and i think we mostly played in darkness. i do remember distinctly that the microphone kept shocking my lips whenever i tried to sing. the object of our affection, OVERDOSER, played next and experienced similar problems.
i wrote “OVERDOSER RULES BUT I HAD TO LEAVE BECAUSE I WAS SCARED”.
i dont think the getting shocked by the microphone thing ever worked out. but there was definitely some bro-dog upstairs playing shitty music and when Pat tried to get it turned off, he was called a faggot. the guy was ejected shortly after, which was a bummer for him as he was trying to “get freaky” with some girl someone had nicknamed “FIREBALL SHELF BUTT”. i do not remember her having a “shelf butt” but i do recall she had put in a lot of effort look nice for the punk show and was drinking a fucking bottle of fireball. there was also a bottle of a mixture of everclear and marijuana being passed around.
here is a picture of a shelf butt as apparently interpreted by nike
what an insane fucking advertisement. here is a picture of a FIREBALL advertisement.
i was later told that FIREBALL SHELF BUTT was overheard shrieking, “I CAN’T BELIEVE BRAIN TUMORS ARE SLEEPING HERE,” but i fucking refuse to believe that. however, i do believe the story of Juicebox pissing in Story of the Year‘s swimming pool. i think we found out that Fireball Shelf Butt was most likely 17 years old and the ejected bro who called Pat a “faggot” was trying to commit some serious crimes. worse than getting sushi and leaving without paying.
we also found a note from Gas Rag. then we all went to Corpsegrinder from Cross Examination‘s house house and hung out. Dan from Overdoser/Cross Examination lived across the street, so we spent some quality time with quality freaxxx and watched Ice T karaoke lyric videos.
we finished the night hearing Corpsegrinder tell us a nice bedtime story about being in new orleans and chasing down a dude with a knife after a bad drug deal. he said the dude ended up throwing some weed into a dumpster as payment and asking, “we cool? then they all slammed beers together an hour later.
i wrote that we finished the night watching Six Feet Under, but now i realize that i must’ve meant the ex-Cannibal Corpse singer’s band, Six Feet Under – not the HBO show. i went to bed while everyone stayed up and reportedly ate some of the best burritos they had ever eaten.
