Archive for the tag "journal"

Wrote "Ain’t No Picnic"

Note: This is a journal entry — it was written on paper or on my computer, then transferred to my website, maybe years later.

I’m feeling better now about everything.  Jan isn’t half as bad as I’ve made him out to be, though he could be a few cards short of a full deck I guess.  His mistake was to not shut up after I told him and Ryan about ten times that I was getting upset by the things they were saying and I didn’t want to hear it anymore.  It made them defensive and they kept talking about it, and I kept getting more upset, which led to the utter frustration you see in the previous journal entry.

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Note: This is a journal entry — it was written on paper or on my computer, then transferred to my website, maybe years later.

Jan and Ryan spent practically all night browbeating me over the sorry state of my career in music.  I really don’t think I’m cut our for this line of work.  I want to be with John, I want to stay home and do my own shit and not have anything to do with music for the rest of my fucking life.  That’s it!!  Fuck it.  I’m sick of it.  I can’t control everything.  I’m not the one to do all the work that needs to be done.  They can all lick my ass, okay?  MOMMY!!!  I want to go home NOW.  I want to be home.  Goodbye.

The show went fine by the way.  No problems there, I’m just sick of everybody telling me what I should fucking do when it’s not even my job to manage certain things, and it’s not my fault when problems occur.  Assholes.  GRRRRRRRR!!!

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Note: This is a journal entry — it was written on paper or on my computer, then transferred to my website, maybe years later.

We’re playing tonight in Lund, at a club called Mejeriet.  We’re opening for Kristian Kjellvander, who’s been described to me as the Richard Buckner of Sweden.  We just finished soundchecking; Kristian’s band finished their check earlier in the day.  Very nice theater, sort of like Park West in Chicago.  Dinner’s at seven, doors are at eight and we play at nine.  Thirty minute set tonight, which is fine by me since my voice is getting tired of the daily grind!  Kristian has an enormous amount of gear onstage here.  I imagine we’ll be crowded out of the dressing room once the band gets back, but I don’t mind.

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Note: This is a journal entry — it was written on paper or on my computer, then transferred to my website, maybe years later.

The show at Debaser went sooooo great.  Had a lotta superfans there singing along with all my tunes and making requests I couldn’t begin to fulfill.  They fuckin’ loved it, which made us play so much better.  Ryan and I agreed it was probably — no, definitely — the best show of the whole tour.  I doubt we’re going to be able to top that one.  :-) We’re staying at a hostel tonight, it’s a boat on the river.  A red boat.  I can’t feel it moving or anything though I know it must be.  It was so groovy in the club that Ryan and Jan really wanted to stay, but Baby Edith was tired and wanted to go find the hotel before it got too late.  Jan got all drunk tonight.  Well, we were all having a lot of fun, I guess I can’t fault him for that.

I can’t find an electrical outlet in this place so I’d better shut the computer down before I run it out of juice!

Note: This is a journal entry — it was written on paper or on my computer, then transferred to my website, maybe years later.

Well, we made it to the club in Stockholm after only about an hour of confusion negotiating the streets, with all the bridges and waterways, overpasses, underpasses etc.  It’s a very nice large rock club called Debaser.  There are posters advertising all manner of bands whose names are well known to us, i.e. the Apples In Stereo, Hawksley Workman, Swearing at Motorists, The Faint, Low and even the Rivulets (who opened for John’s band awhile back at the Hideout in Chicago).  Tonight we’re playing with a band called Ep’s Trailer Park; I’m not sure what they’re like.  Might just be one guy playing rather than a full band, I don’t know.  We’ll find out soon enough!  Tonight we’re staying in a hostel, but it’s on a BOAT.  A red boat.  I just hope we can find it.  Tomorrow we have a pretty hellacious drive to Lund, like eight or nine hours.  Ryan will have to do the driving as usual, which is fine by me.

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Note: This is a journal entry — it was written on paper or on my computer, then transferred to my website, maybe years later.

Well, miraculously Ryan finally got us to the club around 10 pm.  The first band had played long before but the people were still there drinking and talking.  Miracle of miracles, they stayed for our show.  They listened, and they clapped, and they were all friendly and nice to us even though we were so horribly late.  The sound system was shit; the monitor was emitting the loudest noise I have ever heard from a monitor; you could barely hear the guitar and voice coming through the noise.  I guess the sound from the PA was better but jeez, it was so hard for me to hear myself through that monitor.

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Note: This is a journal entry — it was written on paper or on my computer, then transferred to my website, maybe years later.

This is hilarious.  Jan is our driver but he can’t really drive, and he doesn’t really know the way.  No mobile phone, no road map.  He printed the directions off the internet and Ryan is doing his best to get us to the gig.  It’s a bit doubtful whether we’ll make it or not; we’re driving through a snowstorm.

Note: This is a journal entry — it was written on paper or on my computer, then transferred to my website, maybe years later.

Jan just stuck his fuckin’ fingernail in my eye.  The other eye, the one I didn’t wack with my jacket tassel.  I am going to look like a prizefighter on a losing streak.

Note: This is a journal entry — it was written on paper or on my computer, then transferred to my website, maybe years later.

Jan doesn’t have a mobile phone, so we’re looking for a gas station to call the club.  First European tour I’ve done without a mobile phone!  I’m trying to figure out what the whole point of traveling with Jan is.  He’s a nice guy but if he can’t drive and he doesn’t know where he’s going, and doesn’t even have a phone, then why is he here again?  ‘Cuz he speaks the language?  He sort of speaks English, except everything he says sounds like it’s in the form of a question?  So it seems like he isn’t sure about anything?  ::sigh::

Note: This is a journal entry — it was written on paper or on my computer, then transferred to my website, maybe years later.

Well, Jan gave up the wheel after just a few hours.  Ryan’s driving now.  I’m glad, he’s a better driver by far!!

Note: This is a journal entry — it was written on paper or on my computer, then transferred to my website, maybe years later.

I wonder if Jan has ever tour-managed before?  We’re driving a rented car through a snowstorm, without snow tires or chains, and the windshield keeps icing up.  I’m scared.  I didn’t have a bed to sleep in last night — I was freezing cold and crying most of the time.  Didn’t get to take a shower or brush my teeth today, I’m on my period and I just wacked myself very hard in the eye with my elastic jacket-tassel thingy. Did I mention I want to go home now?  I hope Ryan’s luggage makes it to Linkoping.

Note: This is a journal entry — it was written on paper or on my computer, then transferred to my website, maybe years later.

I had a very rough night. I am never touring again in Europe.  I might not ever tour again anywhere.  Right now I feel like I want to quit music-making entirely and get a job somewhere doing something completely unrelated to music.  Something with computers I guess.  Not in a record store, that would be too depressing.

Note: This is a journal entry — it was written on paper or on my computer, then transferred to my website, maybe years later.

I WANT TO GO HOME!!!!!!!!!! Please God let me go home now. I’m freezing cold. I’m sleeping in a shithole in Oslo, my socks are wet, I’ve been crying all night, I’m sick and I want to go home now. Please let me go home. Please please please please please.

Note: This is a journal entry — it was written on paper or on my computer, then transferred to my website, maybe years later.

Okay, I finished packing and I’m making coffee.  Ryan wants to sleep a few more minutes.  We couldn’t get the same flights; my plane leaves at 1:40; his doesn’t leave until 5 something.  So he’s going to have to sit around waiting to leave.  But then I’m going to be sitting around waiting for him after I get to Oslo, fair’s fair. 

Sara and Giacomo have been so nice to us, they’re the best.  Wonderful people.  Thank god we got to stay with them a few days, they kept us laughing and well fed the whole time.