I kept a tour journal while in the UK a couple weeks ago and it was recently posted on Buzzgrinder.com; I thought I would repost here as well...
Day one – Hatfield
I didn’t understand why the gentlemen who had just a couple hours previous sold us the weed was now standing a couple feet from me yelling in my direction for smoking said weed.
“Who the hell’s smoking weed here! Who the fuck… is it you!?!?!”
Look man, stop pointing your fucking finger at me. I just got done playing on this very stage and now I want to stand here, smoke a J, which you sold me, and watch my friends band play. Get off my back. His friend was upset, too. I guess ’cause I was standing on the wheel well of the orange Jägermeister truck, the bed of which serving as the stage. OK, I get it, now that you point it out to me, yes, I may scratch the paint standing here, but really man, who fucking cares? You both just look ridiculous standing there yelling at me.
Girls are really into wearing leggings as pants over here.
Day two – Leeds
It was “vegetable stew” over rice for lunch, and then they added in some potatoes and it was “vegan curry” over rice for dinner. Today for lunch they took away the potatoes but added in some beans and called it “vegan chili,” which was served over rice. I don’t really care what’s for dinner tonight at this point.
I washed some laundry in the backstage bathroom sink, hung it out to dry in our dressing room. I haven’t had a shower in three days. I have also somehow managed to lose every pair of socks that I brought with me except for the pair that I am currently wearing. When I take them off at night, they maintain the exact shape and form of my feet. In a couple more days I’m expecting them to start walking on their own.
The show schedule kept getting pushed back throughout the day, which in turn threw off my pacing. Started drinking a little too long before actually taking the stage. Stumbling drunk, I lost myself in the whitewash of guitar distortion and crash cymbals. Sometimes walking back to the dressing room, you feel more like you just lost a fist fight than played music to a crowd of people.
The after party was stupid, I regretted being there immediately. The music was too loud to have any kind of conversation, and beyond that it was horrible music. Every time a round of shots was brought to the table and glasses were raised, our group of people cheered as if the roller coaster had just reached the top of the climb and was about to free fall. Hands up in the air everyone, here we go!
Day three – Glasgow
I can’t stop listening to Crazy Arm. Their album, Born to Ruin, is the best I’ve heard in a while.
Day four – London
Full day of press before the show, not much time to explore or see anything. I’ve been having trouble forming complete sentences when engaged in social conversation lately. My tongue ties. I’m also having trouble exiting conversations when I no longer want to be engaged in them. I’m not smiling ’cause I’m happy, I’m uncomfortable and nervous. I don’t really have anything else to say, and you don’t really have anything to say to me. I’m looking for the exit.
I wish I was the type of person who could get away with wearing sunglasses at all hours, day or night. Sure, people would probably think I’m a cunt, but who really gives a fuck what they think anyways? Just that little bit of distance would be nice. I’ve been finding myself locked in a bathroom stall often lately, standing there, checking my messages obsessively on my phone.
Day five – Manchester
In my dream last night, I had run my mouth a little too much and found myself in a back alley brawl. I realized quickly that I had previously underestimated my opponent when talking shit. My friends whom I had counted on being there to back me up were nowhere to be found. I was quickly pinned to the floor, punch after punch rained down onto my face. I couldn’t figure out which was more painful, the beating or the embarrassment of getting what I deserved.
Ended the night in a karaoke bar. My version of George Michael’s Faith was surely an insult even to Limp Bizkit’s version.
Day six – Birmingham
Started today off with a short acoustic set at Kerrang! Radio. Before I played, I ended up doing a quick interview with Johnny DOOM, of the band DOOM. Holy shit! I love DOOM! If you had told the 16-year-old me that one day Johnny DOOM, singer of DOOM, as in Police Bastard DOOM (Holy shit!), would first interview me on air and then introduce me to a crowd of 20 people at 1 in the afternoon to play a terribly awkwar acoustic set in a radio station lobby in Birmingham, England while touring in support of my band’s second major label release — I think my head would have exploded.
Last show of the U.K. run tonight, wish we could have stayed longer. Looking forward to coming back in the fall.