We're at one of those parts of the 5 where you
don't see anything but truckers and call boxes,
finally giving the van it's first real workout. She's
doing marvelously. Wait. Can I call a van
purportedly named Patrick Stewart, "she"? Yeah. I
think it's okay. Even if it means our transportation
is a wig-wearing, trannie-Patrick-Stewart.
Especially if it means that, now that I think about
it. Would you mess with Patrick Stewart in a red
dress and heels? Exactly.
We just recently figured out the intricate
Tetris-y arrangement of gear in the back too,
which is an important step in a young van's life.
Soon, it's voice will start changing. It's also nice to
not be inhaling coolant fumes or hearing
mysterious rattling noises. I think Pete feels a
little guilty that we've moved on so fast after
being widowed by the birdvan, but we've impressed
upon him that it's for the best. The period of
greiving is over. We aren't GreekOrthodoxMonster.
Tonight started the grand Divison Day,
Birdmonster tour, a week we've been looking
forward to since, well, basically since we started
recording in January. A little background here: us
three, non-Peter folks met their drummer Kevin
maybe six years ago before an At the Drive-In
show through Brett, who also designed our first
website, who also came along for the trip. I know:
very incestual, very Jerry Springer. It's alright, I
promise. Now we get to scurry across the Land of
Plenty with them, and, hopefully, kick their lilly
asses at some basketball. This must happen.
We played the Kazem tonight, over in Brentwood,
which is always, always a pleasure. Everyone's
always all enthusiastic and clap-along, the folks
that run it are honest, and they run it well, and
you can buy some thoroughly brutal hotdogs after
it's all done. Division Day ruled on-stage, then
later ruled barbershop quartet style in the parking
lot and we had a ball ourselves and I got the
bloodstains to prove it; so, all in all, a good start
to this whole shindig. Some special San Franciscans
even came out to send us off. I wish they
would've crushed a bottle of champagne on the
van, but, you can't get everything you wish for.
Alright. Now, I'm going to bliss out to this Ryan
Adams CD and eat my Cheetos. See you tomorrow.