Cheese On Bread On Tour
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| Wednesday, July 18th, 2007 | | 12:04 pm |
thoughts from dan
Tonight is the last performance of our tour. Obviously, I haven't had time to keep up this journal, which is, obviously, a good thing. On Friday night, I land in NYC and head straight to our CD Release Party at Bowery Poetry Club. Then I settle into a life that has nothing to do with tour, or planning a tour, or booking a tour, or worrying about a tour. Every night, we pick a theme for our show. We should have been keeping track of them. At the Pop-In in Paris, the theme was: it's World War II, and Paris is occupied, and we're the jesters of the resistance, entertaining our comrades before a day of bloodshed and martyrdom. In Wakefield, the theme was simply "debauchery." Last night, the theme was "redemption," which felt about right. I think we all felt like crap beforehand. We've been split up into two cars, which feels wrong on every level, and makes tour feel rather un-tour-like. I've been feeling gloomy. I was worried that I wouldn't be able to muster the necessary spunk for a Cheese On Bread show. But, once again, the act of performance was redemptive, and everyone summoned IMPOSSIBLE energy for a truly joyous set, with an attentive and reactive audience. This happens over and over. We show up at the venue drained, sleepy, taking naps, complaining, freaking out about logistical details, nursing glooms and moods, giving the impression that we are unfriendly and aloof people. Then we get on stage and remember who we are. The rest of the night follows suit. I'm proud of us. A RETROSPECTIVE tour journal, filling in all the gaps, will come along soon. Love Dan | | Sunday, July 15th, 2007 | | 11:32 am |
| | Friday, July 13th, 2007 | | 10:45 am |
thoughts from sara and kevin
sara: "dan has been bugging us to write something here but we're not much of bloggers, so we've properly neglected this journal until now. But I just had to announce the name of one of the greatest bands of all time. Cats in Paris ( http://www.myspace.com/catsinparis). We played a ridiculous show with them last night (Happy Birthday John!) where we each only got to play about 4 songs... then it was over and we all ran off to build a volcano and do tricks with eggs (pictures to follow). Yay Manchester! Or M'cr as the road signs call it. This is sort of silly, but being in Manchester makes me a little sad, because it makes me sing that song from Hair "Manchester England England" which Dibs performed at a Hair tribute night. I miss you, Dibs! Well, I will leave the rest of the updating up to Dan and then hopefully when I've got lots of time after tour, I will deliver my own full account of this crazy adventure." kevin: "blog blog blog" ps. Our mood is still a reaction to the mini-batenburgs. Tina, Emma and Ade - you guys are awesome! ... i mean... Brilliant! Current Mood:  surprisedCurrent Music: Cats in Paris! | | Wednesday, July 11th, 2007 | | 2:04 am |
thoughts from dan
This whole bullet-point narration thing is rather stupid, don't you think? I haven't really been journaling so much as I've been summarizing. Right now, I'm nestled up in a poofy white duvet, on the couch of my dear friend Henry Windridge, in his adorable flat in South London. Henry and I were best friends in University, when he studied in America, way back in 2001 and 2002. He was into beauty products and Kylie Minogue; I was into politics and being unhappy. We had virtually nothing in common, yet somehow managed to spend like 80% of our time together. I spent the next summer in London, and saw a bit of his world here. Tonight, we stopped into G-A-Y, to get a taste of the uber-camp British pop gay club world that I remember with unexpected fondness. I love being in London. Everything here feels so effortlessly lovely, probably because these are the people who invented "loveliness" (as such) in the first place. The band, plus Drummer Dave, landed at Stansted Airport this morning, after a two-hour nap in Berlin, and set up shop with Pantsuit's very own Tina Harris, at her flat in Crouch End. I vanished, and was more or less on my own for the first time since the start of this tour. I rode the top tier of a bus through North London, feeling very grown-up and very fancy. Very different. My summer in London five years ago was a silly time. I was far too fearsome and childish for a serious 20-year-old University student. And far too foolish. I wrote the Cheese On Bread song "Modern Art Gallery" at the Tate Modern here. A lot of songs that we still play have their roots in that time, and they all express the same puckish narcissism, the same pained stupidity. And so it's good to ride a bus here, to transfer to the tube, to walk around and see familiar buildings, all with the knowledge that I am now: smarter, wiser and more powerful. I just hope nothing blows up. I will backtrack soon, when I figure out a less summary-ish way of doing so, to tell you about Belgium, Frankfurt, Wetzlar, Koln, Kassel, Hamburg, Hannover, Leipzig and our return to Berlin! Love Dan | | Thursday, July 5th, 2007 | | 1:47 pm |
thoughts from dan
1. On the way back to Paris, Kevin suggested that we stop in Beaune, a small town in the French countryside known for its food. Sorry, not its food - its CUISINE. We walked around for quite some time looking for an appropriate restaurant that wasn't too expensive, wasn't too touristy, wasn't too loud, and had SOMETHING on the menu that wasn't made with meat. Quothe one waiter: "In this country, we like meat, and we like wine." We ended up eating in a relatively mediocre outdoor cafe, looking onto a beautiful square, with a merry-go-round and a French punk band playing in a gazebo. The sky was very close to the ground, the sunset was thickly blue, and I was very happy. Getting back into the car, the roads turned into a timewarp and we didn't enter Paris until 3 in the morning. 2. Sara and Kevin woke up early to fetch Matt from the airport. Betsy and I woke up late and had breakfast with Isabelle, who helped us get a rehearsal space in an Orthodox Jewish neighborhood, so we could get up to speed with Matt and Drummer Dave from Jeff's band. Rehearsal was KILLER. We're not playing enough rock shows on this tour. As much as I love playing as a smaller acoustic unit, there is something so shocking and primal about playing as real rock band. Especially with Dave, who is perhaps the most rock-oriented drummer we've ever worked with. 3. Matt's arrival was crucial, and now that he's here, I cannot believe we lacked him for a whole week. After rehearsal, the four of us ate outside on the Rue de Montmontrereyxxxueeooxxx. We're such a family. It's so strange that we only ever see each other in the context of this one project. It makes the down time that much more beautiful. I ate an omlette with blue cheese. 4. The sound at Le Tryptique was incredible! I've never heard myself so well! Unfortunately for the bands of Paris, it was the last night the club would ever present live music. The place was packed, and we met lots of nice Parisians, thusly eradicating my intense anti-Parisian prejudice once and for all. We met a small and vaguely acrobatic Oberlin alum named Jeremy, who knew of us through Scandaliz Vandalistz. He offered the prospect of an extended late night hang-out in the suburbs of Paris, but we were so exhausted that we opted instead to return to Isabelle's. It was the right decision but I was bummed, cuz I've never met an Oberlin graduate I didn't like. The cab driver tried to get Kevin to propose to Sara, and threatened not to let us out until the marriage was arranged. 5. Also missed, that night, were the Parisian gay pride festivities, which I planned to attend. My body had other ideas. I listened. I suspect, though, that my body isn't as smart as I think it is. We're in the amazing town of Wetzlar now. I'll catch up later. Love Dan | | Wednesday, July 4th, 2007 | | 11:04 am |
thoughts from dan
Back at a German keyboard, and all is well, except for a few misplaced Ys and Zs. The zooming (yooming) update: After the Bern show, all three bands spent the night in a hilariously juvinile hostel. No one drank too much, but our drinks drank a lot. There were plenty of beds, but I'm pretty sure Jeff slept in a locker. A few hours later, we had a cafeteria breakfast with thousands of international adolescents, all of whom appeared to have lost their virginities the previous evening. Afterwards, I DROVE for the first time on tour, and probably for the first time in years. But I drive like an old lady, so after an hour or so, we pulled off so Betsy could take over. The drive from Switzerland to Paris is magical. The Alps are a lot bigger than I expected, and a lot more feminine. When I think of a mountain range, I generally imagine something, brutal, imposing and blunt. But these mountains were positively balletic. Graceful and humble. They seemed to be watching us with detatched affection. We passed a few castles, some real and some fake, and Ooder took us on an inexplicable detour through a ghost town, which I immediately recognized as the Soft Places ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Sandman:_Fables_and_Reflections#Soft_Places) , a recognition I could share with no one since Matt and Dibs are the only other Sandman readers in the band, and they were both in America at the time. We spent an hour driving around Paris before we got to the club. Everyone told us that Pop-In was a legendary venue, and I can see why. It was perfectly intimate and perfectly friendly, with lounging space just tight enough to FORCE people into the music room, and so we had a rather large audience, including many escapees from a nearby Beastie Boys concert. After the show, we danced to a solid block of Motown classics before taking some cabs to the flat of the amazing Isabelle of Polyanna, who I met a few weeks ago at Sidewalk, when she played two beautiful songs at the anti-hoot. We passed a few notes then, and the next thing I knew, we were in her apartment in a North African Jewish neighborhood in Paris, discussing global politics like we'd been doing so for days straight. We had to zoom away the next morning to follow our footsteps back East for a show in Annecy. We saw many of the same castles, fake and real. Our show was in a concrete housing unit of some sort, tucked away behind a grocery store, with no discernable address. The venue had just purchased a new soundboard, so there were a few glitches, and the show itself was rather surreal. I enjoyed hanging out afterwards, though, and the locals were very friendly, especially one guy who misheard the Samurai story, and thought I had actually seen someone chop off their own face on the Chinatown bus. If you don't know what I'm talking about, then you don't know what I'm talking about. Afterwards, all three bands drove into the mountains to the home of the sublimely gracious Helen and Carolyn. Dave and I stayed up till 5ish, listening to Jeff extemporate on the lyrical content of Stairway to Heaven. The next day was a DAY OFF, so we slept through the afternoon, and woke up to a glowing breakfast/lunch of breads and spreads and cheeses. Crazy For Jane left the tour before I awoke, and I miss them. Next entry: glamour in Beaune, the return to Paris, pastorality in Belgium, rad times in Frankfurt, and sock praise in Koln. Love Dan | | Sunday, July 1st, 2007 | | 5:33 pm |
thoughts from dan
i totqlly cqnnot be bothered to use these french keyboqrds: theyùre driving ,e co,pletely out of ,y ,ind: hopefully iùll post so,ething interesting zhen ze return to ger,qny111111 ,uch love dqn | | Wednesday, June 27th, 2007 | | 3:29 pm |
thoughts from Casey
hi. A) I miss and love you all. B) I thoroughly enjoy imagining you opening up important shows for Jeffrey Lewis and reveling in importance. C) Isn't everyone incredibly kind and generous to you? That was my limited experience. D) Your description of Berlin made me pine once again for that place. I think I was pining for it even when I was there. E) I've been messaging back and forth with Sarah Bowman and she told me that she sees your fliers everywhere. She also told me that they read in the papers you were playing about 40 miles away from where they were last night (I think) and she was bummed she hadn't known before. She feels very comforted by all the comings and goings in Europe of you guys and our other colleagues. F) Are you recording any of these shows at all? I really hope so, I'd love to hear a bit of it when you get back. G) My joints are all better! I took some pills and they made me well. I love the doctor. As a result I was able to rock hard with Urban Barnyard last night for our World Wildlife Federation benefit show. And afterwards a charming gentleman from (major record label) chatted me up and gave me his card! It was weird and hilarious. I also acted as an audience plant during Huggabroomstik's set, when Neil read a prepared statement about the band's commitment to Wildlife, and then opened the floor for questions. The question I was told to ask: "If Huggabroomstik were an animal, what kind of animal would it be?" Oh and Andrew played bass for the entire Creaky Boards set. It was awesome. H) On repeated listenings of the new album I discover that I like it more and more and more. There is no ceiling to my liking. xo Casey | | Tuesday, June 26th, 2007 | | 10:35 pm |
thoughts from dan
I'm tired and backstage and hiding. I wanted to elaborate about listening to Chris Yang's new album while driving across Switzerland. Chris Yang makes <a href=" http://myspace.com/chrisyangchrisyang">music</a> in a small town called Guelph, right outside of Toronto. Come to think about it, you can read about Cheese On Bread's first encounter with this boy if you scroll down to the original tour blog. Whenever I listen to his music, I think, "These are the kinds of songs I would try to write if I lived in the woods, and didn't feel any of the pretense of being a songwriter-in-new-york, or any of the pretense of being me." These songs feel so remote, and that remoteness feels like such a privilege, such a relief. So Canadian! My Americanness is swollen. It makes it hard to make decisions. This tour makes me feel simultaneously very in-the-middle-of-nowhere and very in-the-middle-of-everything. I feel so overexposed and so hidden. We're closing every set with the slow version of "Samurai" and that feels about right. I want to eat these mountains. Like broccoli. I want to eat these mountains the way you want to eat people you're sexually attracted to. Holy crap. Jeff is playing "Seattle" in the other room. I'm gonna go listen. Why am I writing in this journal DURING a Jeffrey Lewis set? This is stupid. Love Dan | | 7:57 pm |
thoughts from dan
The problem with tour journaling is, as always, the TIME CONUNDRUM. You know how ants see things really fast? That's what tour is like. A billion different things happen every minute. If you document too much, you don't experience anything. 1. Munich reminded me a lot of Washington, D.C. Monuments. Sterility. Cool kids who are embarrassed about where they live. 2. We crossed two international borders without even knowing it. No hassle. Quote Josepha: "Crossing into Switzerland is as easy as crossing into Canada." Quothe us: "SHIT!" 3. We had an amazing time at El Lokal in Zurich. It's pretty fancy! Lots of floors. Mezzanine type things. It felt empowering to look up at all the Jeffrey Lewis fans in the audience. It feels empowering to feel important, and then open up for someone whose importance is already widely-known, and then talk to the audience, and commune in the importance of it all. 4. The venue put us all up in a hotel, where we watched Swiss television and ate beers. 5. We spent all morning at Josepha's and Phil's (Crazy for Jane's) parents beautiful house, overlooking the whole city and several alps. They have a treehouse for grownups. The art on the walls was, in itself, a fascinating survey of 20th century fantasticness. 6. This is so boring without the minutia. 7. One day I'll tell you about the minutia. 8. I have a huge platonic crush on Josepha and her mom. (Hi, Josepha!) 9. As a homosexual, I'm feeling pretty irrelevant at most of these places so far. 10. We listened to Chris Yang's new cd on the trip from Zurich to Bern. That, plus the Alps, made me cry. 11. America is completely ridiculous. 12. Europeans are so unconcerned about safety. It makes them all happier. And safer. 13. Europeans are so concerned about beauty. It makes them smarter. And happier. Love Dan | | 1:40 pm |
pictures from sibsi
     Current Mood: hungoverCurrent Music: coming soon & friends - this star is mine | | Sunday, June 24th, 2007 | | 4:04 am |
thoughts from dan
1. Munich is not as punk as Dresden, but I like it better so far. Am I not as punk as I used to be? (Was I ever?) Maybe I'm just friendlier. (Was I always?) 2. Our Dresden morning involved a large jungle gym. 3. We stopped for lunch in Nurnberg. On the way, we saw signs for Fishbach, but we didn't have time to go. 4. There are lots of trees in Germany, many of them by themselves, in the middle of fields, begging people to sit underneath them and wonder why they are living in the middle of Germany. 5. Last night, Sara the Show Organizer (not Sara the singer) told us about an old German folktale about a bunch of animals that get tired of making animal noises, so they start a band. This is apparently quite ancient. A tale as old as time. 6. We had a really bouncy, energetic, positive show tonight, with a fantastically attentive audience. Whitney, who we met two years ago in Savannah, took a 3 hour train ride to come see us. Most of the crowd was there for Bish, whose lead singer is also in the goddamn Pogues. We went on after them, but a bunch of their fans stayed for us, and listened, and laughed at the funny parts, and moved to the moving parts. Here's something that helped: Before the show, we decided that we were going to have an amazing show. We are the performers, after all. We so often blame outside forces for bad performances. But we're the ones performing. We can make the decision to be awesome. So we did. And we were. 7. I am virtually unphasable. 8. Our sleep cycles are hilarious. 9. I miss Dibs. 10. Tomorrow we're going to a trampoline festival. It's our day off. 11. The postal service is bullshit - remember tesseracts? Remember? Is that even how you spell that? Is that feasible? Dibs, can you make one? For the website? 12. Our tour has been so lovely so far, and so mild. Eventful, but mild! It won't last. I can feel the impending intensity, rumbling up beneath the continent. I greet it with flaring green eyes and a sentient smirk. Love Dan | | Saturday, June 23rd, 2007 | | 11:38 am |
thoughts from dan
Dresden is gorgeous and peaceful. During the daytime. At night, punks come out, and they're not all nice punks. One of them threw a bottle cap at my head, but Jesus loves me, so it bounced off the rim of my glasses. The organizers of our show were fantastic. They fed us dinner AND snacks, which seems so normal here, and is so strange to us. FOREIGN, in fact. We spent the night in a furnished room right behind the dance floor. It looked like the set of America's Next Top Model. We hope to see some sights before driving to Munich. Our car is named Ooder. He has the voice of a British woman. He tells us where to go and how to turn. Literally. With sound. I miss our friends in Berlin! I miss the friends we haven't met yet, too. Love Dan | | Friday, June 22nd, 2007 | | 4:03 am |
thoughts from dan
Okay. It's 4am. We leave to get Betsy in 2 hours. 1. 12-year-old i-Pod boy at JFK Airport, next to his grandmother. She'd try talking to him every once in a while, he'd take out an earphone, say, 'what?' she'd repeat herself, he'd go, 'yeah,' and resume his listening. He didn't realize he was being evil. It's entirely possible that she didn't either. 2. The U.S. is going to support the Palestinian Fatah government against Hamas. 3. There are so many different kinds of German people. On my layover in Dusseldorf, I couldn't stop staring. They were all German, they were all speaking German, they were all being German. And they all looked totally different. Bone structures. Complexions. Everything. <i>This</i>, I thought, <i>is the volk? This is the nation that believed in RACE?</i> 4. The in-flight movie was Eragon, which bespoke something vaguely Aryan, erotic, and un-artful, which seemed appropriate. 5. Charlotte had a fashion show for school. The background music was Pre-War Yardsale. The professors judged her while we waited, then came back in the room to announce that she got her degree. It was very dramatic. The clothes were beautiful. Then we all went into the university courtyard to drink champagne. I met Oliver, a German kid who WENT TO HIGH SCHOOL IN POTOMAC MARYLAND, and lived in Derwood, and worked at the Tower Records in Congressional Plaza. Afterwards, a whole pack of us went to a bar to celebrate Sibsi's impending midnight birthday. Heiko and I sang competing birthday songs, his in German, mine in Yiddish. Heiko and I talked a lot about American racism vs. German racism. Americans and Germans are so different. For young Germans, it is so obvious that one's own country can be, not only wrong, but EVIL. To most Americans, young and old, the actions of America are righteous simply because they are the actions of America. America is always, ontologically, tautologically good and just. Our trespasses and evils are inconceivable. This is so for a country that eradicated the Native Americans, enslaved millions of Africans, oppressed their descendants, etc. It is not inconceivable for Germany. The differences are subtle and horrifying. 6. Spoke with many people about the difference between West Germans and East Germans. Madeline said that East Germans are more friendly and welcoming. Odd, to think of A positive cultural impact of Soviet occupation. 7. Met an American girl in the middle of the night, ordering pizza down the street from the bar. She's lived here for two years and ''doesn't do anything." I told her I wanted to stay in America, to make it better. She said, "I don't think I'd like that." I told her I wouldn't like living in cultural luxury in Berlin, with the knowledge that my own country was festering. She said, "I don't think about it." 8. I played solo, as the opening act for Homesick Elephant (Sara's and Kevin's folk duo) at Syndikat, an old anti-fascist punk bar. Everyone there was wonderful, and we met Gert, an anti-racism, anti-homophobia activist in German sporting communities. He's written a number of books, among them, "Football vs. Country Music." A number of our friends here are disturbed by the World Cup, and believe that German fascists use it an as excuse to revive German nationalism. This makes a lot of sense, and is very scary. 9. Reaction to the solo show was good. An old man grabbed me and said, "IT WAS LITERATURE!" I said, "Thanks! Wanna buy a cd!?" He replied, "LITERATURE!!!!" 10. Homesick Elephant is a gem. Sara FitzSimmons is my favorite ever. 11. We hung out the next morning with Sibsi's father, Dieter. He's really into bands, and owns the metal plates necessary to print vinyl copies of a Pink Floyd album. He's an othopedist, and was about to have a private meeting with the German President's (not Chancellor's) wife. He went to see a Tori Amos concert two weeks ago. He liked it. 12. Today we played for rad German people and their young children in a rented art gallery. Fathers bought our cd. 13. Tonight we played at Schokoladen for our amazing and deranged friends. I was FLOORED by Josepha's performance as SUSIE ASADO. Our own set was a lot of fun, with an impromptu guest drummer, Maxim, featured on two songs. He does a mean zydeco. I drank beer with banana juice. Everyone was wonderful. I had lots of beautiful moments with lots of beautiful people. I love this place. Berlin. I'm going to think long and hard about Berlin. 14. I can hear birds. 15. Some things are going smoothly. I am very irritated with the way other organizational things are going. 16. German keyboards are ridiculous. 17. We haven't had the opportunity to get touristy, but I don't care. Going on tour gives you access to a social history denied to typical travelers. 18. A photographer was upset that I won't be in town next week, when he does portraits of people with "strong, specific features." This conversation transpires only a few hours after Josepha, Kevin, Sara and I have a conversation about "articulate faces" vs. "non-articulate faces." I was very honored. 19. The food here is so satisfying - even foods that, in America, would leave me feeling heavy and dumb, like bread and fried cheese. I feel light as air. Love Dan | | Wednesday, June 20th, 2007 | | 11:36 am |
thoughts from dan
It's true. We're on tour. I'm at Sibsi's apartment. Sibsi, say hi: Hello. I'm hungover and I don't know what to say. I really want to listen to Toby Goodshank's new CD. That was Sibsi. I'm going to write more later. Suffice it to say, we're drinking a lot of beer and having good times. First show tonite!!! Love Dan | | Tuesday, June 19th, 2007 | | 9:26 pm |
| | Sunday, August 14th, 2005 | | 11:18 am |
| | Thursday, August 11th, 2005 | | 4:17 pm |
Until The Next Tour...
From now on, as long as I'm in one place, I'll be HERE. This journal will recommence the next time Cheese On Bread goes on tour! Love Dan | | Wednesday, August 10th, 2005 | | 3:14 pm |
This Is The Part Of The Journey Where We Take Trains
I can't really end this tour journal. I've been back in NYC a few days now. Still feeling the inertia of constant travel. Feeling the urge to strip down my life style -- throw out all my crap and live out of 2 backpacks. Getting increasingly intolerant of my hour-long subway ride to get to everything I want to do... I can't really explain the last few days of tour... The bitter sadness of Norfolk, where no one came to the show, and where Jason's bloodsugar plummeted, and he had to send away the rest of his band so he could play some slow songs by himself, and how the beauty of that still tussled with the awkwardness of the initial defeat. And how my silent anger towards one of our number made it nearly impossible for me to smile or sing or eat pizza... And the shocking cleanliness of my parents' home, where we arrived late that night. The glory of a shower, and the hushed girlish whisperings and squeezings between Jason and I in the guest room bed, late into the morning. And how we watched Sam Waterston recite Abraham Lincoln speeches on CNN and how we freaked out and teared up and couldn't move. And the warmth of the Colonel Mustard house that evening, and the friendliness with which they gave us lasagna, and the old friends who came to visit, and the Mark Rothko print hanging in the performance area, and the arrival of Pantsuit from NYC, along with a newspaper boasting the headline "The Importance of Being Dan Fishback", and the blushing shock of all that praise, and how I had to sit on the sidewalk across the street, playing with ants, just to take deep breaths before returning to the socialness. And the rock prowess of Pantsuit, and how I screamed for them, and the fierceness of our own performance, and the stifled anger that I funneled into every song, and how I remembered how sad the songs really were, and how the joy of our performance seemed to glory at the ecstatic release of terror and resentment. And the spiritual, priest-like bombast of The Bloodsugars, and the total lack of inhibition they inspired in me, sending me flailing and surging around the floor, screaming and pounding and stomping. And how we all ended up in the small kitchen after the show, all soaking with sweat and beer, most of us half-naked, just hugging each other and shouting and yelping and holding and confronting each other in all our beauty and godliness, and how Nan and Jason and I held our heads together in awe and shock, only to have our moment of divine revelation punctuated by flatulation, which sent the whole room into a joyous frenzy of potty humor, and how somehow everyone started spanking each other, and how this seemed neither strange nor violent nor anything but beautiful, and how everyone's boundaries fell and shattered and laid bare the simple desires for friendship that linked us to each other in the first place, and how the beauty of it all paralyzed me and sentenced me to a seat on the kitchen counter, just staring at everyone, crying and shaking, and how people knew that these were not sad tears, and so they came up to hug me and squeeze me, and how eventually everyone left the room except me and the one person from whom I felt entirely distant and entirely rejected, and how the boundaries between us finally dissolved, and how we held each other, and how I thought that insects were flying into the back of my leg, and how I realized it was just the firebomb tears of my friend, his head on my shoulder, his eyes leaking down my back and into the pit of my knee, and how the violence of language and masculinity seemed to erupt from the earth itself into his body, shaking him, and me, and how we walked inside holding hands and I finally felt a modicum of peace. And the odd anti-climax of our NYC return, with a venue whose staff was largely rude and inconsiderate, and how the technicalities of putting on a show distracted us from the finality of our tour, and how we split up in haphazard ways and never got back together, as planned, in the morning, for breakfast, and how i called Jason later, and he said, "The tour is not over," and how he called back five minutes later to say, "I have an idea. And my idea is that the TOUR is over, but the JOURNEY is not," and how the cheesiness of that ridiculous statement did not matter because of its greater truth, and how Dibs and I sat bored and startled on a parkbench in Cooper Square, and made a comic book about the first week of tour so we wouldn't have to tell everyone tour stories, and how Jason came with us to the anti-hoot and didn't get to play, though I craved his songs so badly, and how we waited for the subway on opposite sides of the 8th street track, and he yelled from across the locomotive abyss, "THIS IS THE PART OF THE JOURNEY WHERE WE TAKE TRAINS..." I cannot begin. I'll think of something. Everything needs to change now. Love Dan Current Mood:  listlessCurrent Music: Spend My Life - Chris Yang | | Thursday, August 4th, 2005 | | 10:12 am |
Yesterday we finally made it to the Durham/Chapel Hill area, via the disgusting South of the Border amusement park, where we drank intense ginger ale and took photos of ourselves on large ceramic dinosaurs and hispanic people. At a rest stop along the way, the attendant told us we were "The weirdest bunch of people to ever pass through here!" Lach gave me a call immediately afterwards and I felt a little NYC-homesick. Right now, we're staying with the family of Jason's friend Laila -- they're amazing post-hippie buddhist types with a gorgeous house on a lake. We got a really nice review in the local weekly: *** On paper, Cheese on Bread registers somewhere between Too Clever By Half and Oh, Please on the eye-rolling scale. The New York folk duo consists of a gay boy plus a straight girl singing folksy songs about the neurotic insecurities of the everyday liberal-arts undergrad, with song titles including "Deconstructionist Romance," "Stepping Out of Ketosis" and others that you'll need a dictionary to decipher. Yet somehow, "Maybe Maybe Maybe Baby" (Luv-a-Lot Records) transcends its cutesy trappings, and it's hard to resist. "Sometimes you gotta shake the hand that's covered in your blood, 'cause then at least you might get some of your blood back" might be the best lyric I've heard this year. Catch it live Wednesday at Joe and Jo's in Durham (688-3322), with the Bloodsugars. *** That's the first time a reviewer has mentioned the song "Shakin Hands." I like that song. I'm glad it's getting it's glory day. A lot of really weird things happened yesterday, and I wish I could explain them to you, because they came conveniently structured with a beginning/middle/end, a proper character arc and everything. But various laws and mores and relatives make the bulk of the story unbloggable. A few things can eek out. I met a nice girl named Hanna who helped me find the club we were playing at. She was intrigued by the toy xylophone I was carrying. She came back when we started playing, along with a bunch of bright and shiny friends, like friendly Andrew who told me he can work a part time job in town and still afford rent for both his room and a separate art studio. Durham seems like a nice place. And cheap. I could live here. At the rock bottomly bottom of the evening, I was sitting in a small park, by myself, brooding, at the mercy of bad feelings and ill will. I could barely stand up and return to civilization. I had to text message Jason to come get me. He made me lie down with him in the grass, and we talked, and all the crap just lifted up and blew away. I can't believe I get to be friends with people like this. Jason gets a gold star. I keep meeting these joyful, emotionally-effusive people who grew up in these open-ended hippie environments, with no boundaries or stresses - and that's probably an exaggerated description, but still, I'm a little jealous. *** There was much talk, before tour and during, about tour-romances, and the necessity of them, and the thrill of them...and somehow, that expectation has given me an openness and confidence that I don't think I'd normally have in NYC. That, coupled with the fact that we're meeting new people every day, has put me in prime cassanova mode on numerous occasions. And yet, with three days left of tour, all this preparation and readiness has not come to much. It's making me nervous about the big homecoming. The other day, some of the dudes were talking about committing to girls, and how it's hard when so many options abound in the world of singleness. I cannot fathom that relationship to the world. When I think about potential romance, I do not imagine a fertile field of options. I imagine a few stray twigs in a desert -- twigs that may or may not be dehydration-induced hallucinations. Blah, blah, blah. I'm not going to use this tour journal to whine about these things. *** Everyone's still out cold except the grown-ups. Maybe I'll go back to bed (couch) for a little bit. Love Dan |
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