x-x-x-x-x. Los Angeles



| | | — | | Every now and again, saying Fuckit isn’t a mistake. It’s time to write in the goddam diary. Hell with the new CD and tour and shit, jus’ for 10 minutes. The story about the Fresno gig’s been told so many times it’s hardly funny anymore. Our good friends in San Diego convince us we can leave late and don’t need to worry about LA traffic (thanks), so we’re calling this Sushi joint/Venue at 9:45 like, “we’re almost there”; talk to the local act and everything; Noone else is, but they’ll be there. So we get there at 10:30 or something and it’s these two guys (Unnamed Electro act, who we’d been looking forward to playing with) and their girlfriend. One guy’s like, “This place was packed last time I was here. I don’ know.” Arrite, well we gotta go piss. So we come out the bathrooms and the owner comes up like, “”. First of all, him and his partner are like, fifty year old Asian dudes. “The local band didn’t promote this show at all. They s’posed to promote.” Yea, well, lemme go talk to them and we’ll figure out what to do. And he tells us THEY LEFT. Fuckin’ high-tailed it out the door when we went and took a piss. Go figure. Another classic of this tour was in Moscow, ID. Played to a “punk rock” crowd and it was well received. This one guy invited us to stay at his place. When we’re loading the car to go over there he’s like, “You guys are amazing. The only thing you need is…” And Rivka’s like, “That’s it, man. I told you I don’t want your fucking opinion already. We’re outta here. I’m done.” And get’s in the car and closes the door. So I’m like. “Arright, man. That’s how it goes. Guess we’ll see you next time. Be well.” And give him a hug while he says something about being sorry and he has no friends. Get in the car and Rivka’s like, “I’m selling shit and there’s all these people and that guys like, ‘You guys are so tight, the beats are amazing, the singing, the only thing you need is the big pic.’ and I was like; i put up both middle fingers in front of me and held them there in front of him and said, ‘Stop right there, man. I’m on the first day of my period and I don’t wanna hear what you think we need.’ “When I ask you to produce me is when I wanna hear what you think we need.” Love that bitch. Guess the other crazy shit recently is all this crap with doing shows in Canada. They don’t want you doin’ shos without buying a work visa, which is understandable, except that it costs more than we even MAKE up there on a show or two. So you have to smuggle your artist self in. Our homeboy got caught and strip-searched and held up for 10 hours an’ shit exactly a week before our shows. So we were a little freaked. He’s not allowed in the country for the next year. Worse for them, though. They have to pay thousands to come here. Cat tells us a story about when their keyboardist was meeting them for a show in Buffalo and got caught, the US Customs shook him down and called the club, made ‘em pack up all their gear and come back to the border to get sent home. F’n pigs. This is free trade? We look at the crossing as a religious pilgrimage. Especially carrying our medicine, both ways. That confidence thing again. Mad love to the alternative-lifestyle parents, fighting for their right to raise open-minded children.

Peace and love and commitment. Heads up. Mike iLL |