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

The band we’re opening for is called Diaframma.  They’re loud as shit, very commercial-sounding, and very bored with us apparently.  I don’t know who the hell’s idea it was to put them on the same bill with us, but whatever!  One of them just wished me "good luck"… doesn’t he know it’s bad luck to say "good luck" and you need to say "break a leg" instead?  I should have said "good luck to YOU too!" but didn’t think of it until two minutes later.

Well, they’re still paying us the same amount, and we do get a hotel room tonight courtesy of the club, and they did just feed us pretty well, so I guess I can’t complain.  The sound man’s very nice.  I really shouldn’t bitch.  At least we don’t have to FOLLOW that other band.  The only weird thing is that they weren’t on the advertisement, so if anybody’s coming just to see me play, they might miss me.  But I kinda doubt anybody’s coming to see my ass in this town, unless it’s by accident.  Pffffft.

Sorry for the bad attitude.  I am soooo on the rag.