Your tour has dysentery

I think it was in the middle of the second week when I realized how much our tour felt like Oregon Trail. Loaded up on limited supplies and traversing rocky terrain, we had no idea if we'd make it to our destination or nearly die of pneumonia. Of course Oregon Trail didn't reveal what was going on inside the wagon. Luckily, we had cameras.


Beware of backseat bat-shit crazy

It's been almost three weeks since I got back from tour, and like Christina said, it sort of feels like a year. You'd never be able to tell from the above picture, but we've actually become pretty close friends. After the tour started and we got into "the fight" in Bolton I swore up and down on a stack of English bibles that I'd never speak to her again. But then we got over it. Magically. Actually I don't feel like telling that story right now, but you'll probably hear about it at some point.

I've been uploading and looking through all of the tour pictures and mentally preparing myself to see all the footage. I'm anxious to see the footage and also mystified to revisit the trip and re-meet myself from way back when. I don't think she's all that much different from LA me though.

I'm going to get to the bottom of this tour deciphering eventually.

The whole gnome thing

Those of you who have crossed my path virtually or in real time since the tour have probably heard me speak of gnomes. I know, wtf right? Gnomes? As I now have time to properly recap everything, come snuggle up to your LCD and let me tell you a tale.

We were in Bolton, U.K. for our third show, our first of three festivals. We had just come from Glasgow, where a motley gang of Scots from this outskirts town called Dundee invited us to crash on their floor and then let us do anything but crash (though we did get to see the matching pair of "W" tattoos on Ricky's ass cheeks. What does that spell, we wondered . . . "WIW?"). I was the first to crawl out of the van and check out the venue while everyone tried to curl up in their sleeping bags and catch up on rest. It was an all-day event with bands at a big brick warehouse worthy of anything in LA's fashion district. As the first one with any actual energy (overnight work has prepped me to run on very little sleep) I was elected as the body at the merch table that day. So I sat huddled in green scarf and bright orange hat, bracing the breeze coming in from the door carrying the end of England's winter, and broke away to get changed in the van. I repeat, big shows with lots of bands = less to give to each band in terms of changing room, food, anything. But no biggie.

I went to the van to throw on my clothes, where Caroline was setting up her gear to film. I started prattling on about I don't know what -- probably how I was tired and not up to playing that day and how bad the weather was -- and once my outfit was assembled I threw my orange hat back on and said something along the lines of, "Look at me, I look like some sort of dominatrix gnome." And thus it all began. And then Caroline and I ended up running back to the venue taking gleeful pictures.






I don't remember how the gnoming spread, but somehow it just kind of stuck (probably didn't help that I started prancing around and running through fields). But the thing that really became odd was from that point on, we started seeing these gnomes everywhere -- in store window displays, as the sole item of graffiti on a wooden plank near a cafe we liked in The Hague, in rural gas stations in Croatia, sticking their middle finger up at us in bars . . .



It got really absurd.

The idea of being followed by magical little creatures was comforting though -- the gnome spirit came in really handy when times were rough and we had to weather fighting. It always felt good to see them around and know that they had our backs. So when the subject of tattoos inevitably came up (evidently it's a tour thing) it didn't take me long to figure out who I wanted to bring home with me. So whenever I need a gnome, I never have to look too far . . .

And so begins the Stockholm syndrome

Everything I left home in Los Angeles is mostly still right where I left it. Mostly. But after five weeks with the same five people in hundreds of different places in a foreign continent I'm the one who's a little displaced. I spent yesterday wandering around Echo Park, figuring out how bad my finances were (a bit shitty, but not too bad) and recapping. I laid down on the grass at the park and just went through the photos in my camera. I woke up that morning thinking, "Did that all really just happen?"

Part of me is really sad that the experience is over, but a bigger part of me is really happy because I can remember everything that happened and I got a lot out of it -- especially some really great friends. And we got the whole thing on tape. Once we start going through the footage for the documentary we're going to have the ultimate recap. That on top of scoring the film and planning a West Coast tour with my band and I think I'll be able to keep my head above water. But I'll still think about it and still miss things, and still want to tour again. I guess some people can't just do one.

Meantime, I want to try to fill in the holes I left on this blog and try to bring in more details about each day, including pictures and what was going on internally. There are more omissions that admissions, and I'm on a mission to do some blog fission. I should finish this post before it gets worse, I can feel myself slipping . . .

Mishmash

We're killing time at Nick's apartment in London before the van driver gets here to take me, Christina and Caroline to our hostel. So I threw up some photos from the last five weeks. Not all of them because there are 2,300, but enough to get a cool glimpse of what went down. Check em out.

Pretty much the end

There have been times on this tour where I've woken up on the floor in my blue sleeping bag in a tiny room with four other girls and asked myself, "Am I still doing this?" It's amazing how many times your brain regenerates and thinks new thoughts, and when it does so around a scenario that's always changing but still the same . . . being with the same people and the same karma against an ever-changing backdrop is freaky. But I mean it this time, our time's just about up. We're staying in a beautiful apartment in London and playing our last show tonight at Bar Monsta. I need coffee in the worst way and this instant shit is . . . well, shit. But before I go find my caffeine savior, a rundown.

After Germany we spent a really surreal night at an A & O hostel in Calais in the south of France. In the morning we headed over to the ferry to get back to England, and then made it to Ipswich to play a show at a bar called the Swan, which we had set up before we left for mainland Europe the first time . . . and our van broke down 2 kilometers from the venue. We were all pretty happy it decided to poop out so close to the venue in a country where everyone speaks English (can you imagine if we had broken down in CROATIA?!). One of the guys at the bar grabbed most of us and our stuff and Rosie and I waited with the driver by the van for the tow. We waited for three hours, because it was a bank holiday, which is English for "nothing's getting done." It was also the 30-year anniversary of Ipswich winning some big football tournament. I know, that's important. So we drank Jack Daniels and sang songs about how the tow truck wasn't coming, and a guy from the venue picked us and the rest of our crap up because the tow wasn't coming and we needed to play the show.

Show went really well, and we spent the next day in Ipswich at the flat above the bar because the van wasn't going to be ready on time for our next show. We had to cancel our best net-promoted show in Brighton, but since it wasn't our fault the van company paid our guarentee and we had a free day off. We hung out with Dave from Cradle of Filth, who helped us set up the show when he saw our first (lousy terrible) show in Ipswich at this venue that shouldn't even support rock bands because they kept telling us to turn down. We ate some fantastic on the cheap food and saw a very lovely little English town, and hung out at his apartment talking about whatever our type of bands talk about (I actually have a newfound appreciation for Cradle of Filth and many things metal since this trip began thanks to Caroline). Then we got the van back and we stayed at what Caroline and I believe was a haunted Holiday Inn because we both had nightmares. Then we got back on the road.

Nottingham was a trip -- lots of Robin Hood-y stuff, a good venue, some really cool fucking people (I think actually some of my favorite on this trip) and I got a tattoo. WHA?! Yeah, the nice little Jewish girl who was programmed to steer clear of those permanent devil scars because you can't be buried in a Jewish cemetary and you risk possibly looking tacky when you're 80 got a tat (I'm getting cremated anyway). And you know I wasn't going to get one just to get one -- I thought about it for awhile while everyone talked about what they wanted, and since this trip was significant to me I wanted to do it, provided I could find the right thing.




Rosie, Caroline and Christina (got cut off) with me at the tattoo parlor.




Justin tatting me




It's a sexy gnome. The why will be another post, because everyone's ready and I have to go, but just know that I absolutely love it. See you later or when I get back.

P.S. Don't tell my dad.

mk

Last day in Germany

We're stealing net cafe time in a little town in south Germany called Frieburg. The last two days we've been treated better than any other day on tour -- I will have dreams about the meal I had last night for the rest of my life. Schnitzel and homemade noodles? And that dessert was illegal. We performed in an 520-year-old torture chamber that Black Sabbath played in in 1969. HAHA! I love my life so much right now! But seriously it creeped me the fuck out when I first got there. Our contact slash tour guide walked us through the hallway and one of the first things he said was, "Smell the blood?" Thanks guy. We also stayed in a fantastic hotel, ate a beautiful breakfast this morning, had our shortest drive in a long time (the van and Germany's traffic have been our utter downfall, stealing both our lives and our livelihood), and tonight they fed us stroganoff and we got lost looking for this cafe, but found one of the cutest towns yet. Caroline is determined to live here and I don't blame her.

So believe it or not, we're now in the home stretch of this tour. Tomorrow we have a day off and decided we'd head to Brussels, and then it's back to the ferry and over to the UK. I don't have enough time to begin to process everything that's happened on this trip -- it might honestly take a year to even tell half the stories of this tour. But I got lots of pictures and learned so much and saw so much that thinking about it makes me sick to my stomach. I'm almost grateful I got to do this trip with no money, because it forced me to look at everything going on (by the way, if you're a band and you want to tour Europe, skip the UK and France. The UK doesn't feed you and French tolls are worse than the Jersey Turnpike. Germany and Holland will treat you gooooooood).

(By the way, I may be the only one who's noticed this but my English has gotten increasingly worse since traveling through the non-English countries. Listening to so many non-native speakers will fuck with your lexicon and vocab, also I don't have any time to edit. So forgive my lack of perfect grammar and communication, I'll probably be better once we re-hit England.)

I better go, this thing is costing me 1 euro every 15 minutes. Tonight the place we're staying is a flat upstairs from the venue, so all we have to do is climb stairs. Drinks!!! While it's true that I've been drinking pratically every day since we left the UK I've gotten pretty used to it. But one thing I haven't gotten used to is the fact that the whole getting laid on tour thing has been an utter fucking myth. No worries -- there's more to life than happy, fulfilling sex. It'd sure be nice though, especially out here...

Berlin

'Cause I have so much time to post a blog right now.

1. The show last night was great. Finally some decent pictures of me, 'cause you know that's important. The venue is reputable apparently.

2. I saw Brett from Marketplace last night and he bought me Whiskey. Yay!

3. We have a per diem now and we're no longer starving! Plus we made like a lot of money last night. Yeehaw.

4. We're on our way to Dortmund now, wh ich is the direction we just came from. So I guess it's like the St. Louis of Germany.

5. Leaving now. Bing!

P.S. 6. It's morning and I think I'm still drunk.

mk

Osnabruck (Germany)

My friend Brett who I'm meeting up with today in Berlin says that Osnabruck is like the Des Moines of Germany. Quite honestly these tiny little places have been the best to play -- the people at the venues treat you well, the crowds are genuinely pleased to see you because there's nothing to do and it's not a shit hastle to park the van. Last night we played at a skatepark and Rosie, Caroline and I spent about 30 minutes running around the floors and taking pictures of ridiculous freestyle walking shots (okay, we were a little tipsy, but that'll happen when you're low on food and the only thing left in the van is Croatian beer in a plastic bottle)(I'm not making this up!!). The pictures are pretty silly. Performing has become kind of secondary -- it's the reason we're out here, but I never even think about the fact that we're going to be doing a show until about 10 minutes before we go on. Most of the time I'm using my brainpower to survive long drives and deal with whatever else comes. Then we play a show. Glad to at least not stress about that -- we're actually playing a lot better and enjoying our time on stage since the band has broken up in several different places. So at least it's fun again.

Oh, btw, Prague -- after my last post I got some pretty bad news from home, so I came back to the room we were all staying in and everyone decided to go for a walk to clear our heads. We ended up on an incredible journey through Prague at night -- lights from buildings shimmering off the river, statues and ancient buildings, castle walls encircling a park, topped off with a walk through the city center . . . seriously the most stunning stuff I've seen on tour, and not to praddle on but I've gotten to see some really fucking cool shit. I took the most pictures that night than any night in the last three weeks and I'm gonna try to get them up here before tour is over.

We're at the hotel getting ready to head towards Berlin. A few of us had a pretty heavy talk last night about food -- our drummer eats more than the rest of us because she needs the energy to do a really hard job, but our budget is, shall we say, non-existant and to put it all out there, we're kind of in trouble. This tour is like a cross between Spinal Tap and Lord of the Flies -- sometimes it's hilarious and absurd and other times we're in this political struggle within an enclosed world that escalates and becomes real trouble. That sounds pretty scary right? Let me know if you're interested in sending us some care packages. All we really need is beef jerky, peanut butter and maybe some multivitamins. Personally I'm low on calcium. Oh, and maybe some cough medicine, because I'm having trouble totally getting rid of this bronchitis cough on a not-entirely-full stomach.

On the plus side, I think I'm down to my high school weight! There goes my yoga muscle.

-mk

Prague

I was just in six countries in five days. Guys, seriously, you do not understand what this schedule is like and how difficult it is to ever get the calling cards to work in these crazy remote countries and how group mentality, drive and schedules make it impossible to ever get to an Internet for quality time. And on this keyboard, the z is where the y should be. Zes, please forgive the tzpos.

Last night we played Rebellion Punkfest in Vienna. I played on an elevated indoor stage with a divider and rows of people and lights and a crew and photographers and . . . it was a real rock show, and I was in it. And like usual, im frustrated because blogging about this does absolutely nothing, because 1. im exhausted 2. im starving 3. im limited by this crazy czech keyboard and 4. i have 5 minutes left on this kiosk. So lets at least give a quick recap of today . . .

1. It took forever to get from the hotel in Vienna to Prague, because our driver is incompetent. Today was his last day because we fired him yesterday and did the trade in this city, but he still kept us captive as he got us lost and made a 4 hour driver into 8. Beautiful pictures of remote Austrian and Czech landscapes though.

2. I wore a skirt today because I wanted to wander around Vienna in a skirt, but we left to early for anyone to see it. Did I shave my legs for this . . .

3. Did I mention Im flat broke and its scary . . . and I cant find the question mark on this keyboard . . . thats frustrating

4. It took forever to figure ourselves out here because the money is Kronin like in Croatia.

5. Gotta post because I have 45 secs left to finish this

6. Please please please comment I mean it

7. Osnabruck, Germany tomorrow. No show today, it was technically our day off but we wasted it in the van.

mk

Um...Croatia

Never did I ever think that I would have any reason whatsoever to come to CROATIA. But it's Sunday morning in Kacovac. I'm exhausted. We had one of our most insane shows ever last night -- I think all of the kids in Croatia were there, and they had cameras and were moshing and mobbed us after the show for pictures and t-shirts and to talk to us about the band. It should have been amazing but....I finally stopped drinking and my body responded in turn and I was wiped. I'm usually one who's happy as a pea to talk to every fan and get everyone juiced about what's going on, so it's funny that on a night where I really didn't have to do any kind of cheerleading I wasn't fully there to reap the rewards. But it's cool -- I've finally showered for the first time since the Hague and I don't think we're going to starve today.

As usual I'm short on time, so here's a quickie: We're on our way to Vienna today to play the big Rebellion punk festival. After Paris we had a long drive to Chemnitz, Germany and everyone tripped out on the fact that we were playing in an old war bunker. Good show there too. The drive to Croatia was one of the most unreal -- really wish I could show you the pictures right now, but I want my coffee and I have to write people about the fact that all of my checks are about to bounce because of the money shit I first encountered when I got to England. Soooooo . . . I'm excited about Vienna because it used to be the composers' mecca. I hope I feel some of that today, I need some inspiration.

Paris

I have 7 more hours in Paris. I don't really know whose house this is and the keyboard here is impossible. I got the obligatory pictures - at least, I got one. I've had so much to drink in the last few days that to be quite honest i'm a bit alarmed, but the beer is really good and it doesn't seem to give you hangovers, so okay. All the French I've met have actually said my French is good, surprisingly, and I've been able to hold a few conversations. I repeat, I've had beacoup to drink, and this keyboard is pissing me off and stuff is going on so I'm gonna go. Christina agrees that French keyboards are hard. Tomorrow: Chemnitz, Germany and a nine hour drive. I'm switching in ,y head to German, something I didn't study for three distracted years in high school. Wish me luck...

God there's so much going on that I can't talk about right now. Ask me, I can't even start.

Den Haag Denscovery

Today marks two weeks since we boarded the plane at LAX for Heathrow. None of us were quite sure of what we were signing up for, but we're getting it in droves -- unbelievable highs, emotionally challenging lows, and drama drama drama lurking behind almost every new door. Yesterday alone, one of us left the van in a fit of rage while it was moving and another one of us needed an ambulance for an asthma/panic attack. What's left, right? Well, we're thinking with the passport problems I've been having I might have some problems with border control once we hit Croatia. Thus will complete the rock n' roll trilogy of someone almost dying, someone going crazy and someone getting jailed. Oh yeah, and last but not least, a lesson: Don't elope with the van driver until the end of tour.

Sandwiched in between yesterday's daytime soap events was a trip to Amsterdam and one of the most amazing days of my life. I wasn't even stoned for most of it -- walking around the canals and buildings, seeing the people outside walking around or biking, sitting in the park, the artwork, the shops -- I really don't think it's too far-fetched to say that Heaven looks a lot like Holland. I went off with Caroline and Christina and we went off to find a gay bar. We didn't get there, but sat down at an outdoor cafe, ordered and left because the food didn't look fresh and took 30 minutes to get there. Then we had some falafels and looked for the Van Gogh museum. Christina and I didn't have any money so Caroline went in alone because she really wanted to go, while Christina and I sat outside with some "travelers" and had a joint. A lot about the scene was comically typical -- hippie Steve, who's originally from Toronto, asked us if we'd ever heard of Radiohead. I asked him if he'd ever heard of peanut butter and jelly. "The band?" he asked. "No," I said, "the sandwich." I asked college aged-looking Steve and his two female friends who were too timid to give their names if they were in school, and he said no, we're just "looking for the truth" (Later Christina said everything about them, down to the girl scribbling in her notebook with a highlighter, suggested they were shrooming. Makes sense). I had the travel acoustic so Christina and I went into a stripped-down version of "Astrozombies," which is third in our set at shows and one of my favorite Misfits songs (the chorus actually sounds really great if you throw in harmonies, which is something the Misfits don't traditionally do). Then Caroline came out from the museum in a shroud of awe and we hustled to get back to the van because we were late to meet everyone.

We got to the van about 20 minutes late and Patty and Rosie went off to find Patty an AA meeting, something she's been trying to get to since we got here -- she's 10 years sober, so among all the other physical and emotional stresses she's had to handle living with five other people who have been toasting beers in foreign countries (she's doing a little better in that respect). So the C's and I went off to find a pub or something to grab a drink, and once we did I stepped out to do some busking. I'm still sick (and Patty discovered today that she has mild bronchitis, so I probably have some of that too) but I managed to belt out enough to make 18 euro in 30 minutes. Two kind gentlemen gave me 5-euro bills, the first one having had stopped from around the corner saying "I have to give you this, you just sing so passionately." I think I was singing Borderline . . . my set is still the same one from when I used to busk in Boston, with a few new ones added in (Yes, Tim, I will be throwing in some THTG favorites, but it really isn't the same without the harmonies in there).

We all got back to the van and headed to Burger King for the most amazing "Long Chicken" sandwich I ever had, and we seemed to all be feeling good. When we got back Caroline, Christina and I had a jam party in the kitchen with a few of the Dutch who live/hang out here, while the three of us not-so-secretly worshipped the sexiest of woman, lounging at the table with a cigarette and giving us long, fearless European gazes. We all had to look down. My God, the women here.

The night ended with an episode straight from TV, which started when Patty was upset with the Japanese band sharing the room with us for smoking nearby (she has really bad asthma on top of the bronchial band cold) and escalated to her getting antibiotics and oxygen in an ambulance. Most of it was egged on by a panic attack. We went to a doctor today and she got some very good treatment so we're going to just keep her from all the cigarette smoke and hope for the best. How we're going to do that in smokey European punk clubs is a mystery of mysteries, but with enough will power anything can be done.

Gotta run. Last night in The Hague. I'm trying to keep it together. Send your loving thoughts, we need them.

Sorry, I meant Den Haag

So I've been in The Hague, not Amsterdam. There was just so much shuffling before it was hard to tell, but it's all straightened up for the time being.

We're still at the squat -- well, all of us except our manager bassist. There's some nutty internal band stuff going on right now and it's really a book's worth of material and a story I'll leave for another time (maybe a little before I leave). In the meantime, yesterday: We walked around the town centre, as we've been apt to do, and just marveled at everything. This place is gorgeous, gorgeous gorgeous. We haven't even been through the rest of Holland but if it's anything like this, Holland might be the most magical place on Earth. Yesterday was definitely the best day on tour -- I've gotten to know my bandmates so much better, and I finally shared a few things I've been holding back for a long time.

We sat around and had some coffee -- and wow, the coffee -- and then went to McD's and had cheeseburgers. I know right, but feel me out here: We're flat broke. The internal shit that's going on has a little bit to do with money too, and for reasons I won't go into we really have to scrimp. But y'know, Europe's expensive any way you look at it.

After McD's the group humored me and I found a spot to busk. We found a spot with people frequently passing by and some beautiful acoustics. Even with a cold I managed to belt out for an hour, met some people, and made 10,35 euros. So I can eat today. :) As with everything, I've got some pictures. There are so many that I might not get to post them until the end of tour, but I'll try to sneak a few.

Gotta go -- sexy van driver is giving me a back rub!!! Next post: gnomes. I'll explain later. But seriously, people, comment. Even if you're just saying hello.

--mk

What time is it over there?

I'm drunk as hell in Amsterdam, so I'm emotional. I'll get to the good things first and then maybe I'll hint at why I'm upset, although I know it's silly.

We left England two days ago and played our first show on the mainland yesterday in Liege, Belgium. You want weird? A crazy fucking woman doing smack in the bathroom, the stupidest noise music I've ever heard, they made me keep my guitar at around 4, hookers getting picked up by our van . . . the hostel wasn't a very happy place either, but the next day was much better. The next day being today. We were in the town center in Liege and I had a real Belgian Waffle! At least I think I did. I had a waffle in Belgium and the lady spoke French, like everyone, so it could have just been a tourist waffle. But I think it was authentic and it was enough for me.

We hopped in the van and went to Amsterdam. We had a good show, our last one for three days. Yes!!! And now I'm staying the night in a rad punk rock squat, I can't even begin to try to understand the language around me (I actually did OK with the French, I can make some painfully small talk but it's not so bad) and now I'm in the office part and it's 6 a.m. here...

Yes, it's 6 a.m. here. I've been drinking for several hours and I think that's why I'm so emotional. It's really silly to go into why, but all I'll say is, sometimes I really wish I liked guys. The woman who runs this place, Romie, said it best when she said instead of AA, I need a Gay A.

Anyway.

So reflecting on the trip so far . . . the first wing was a very full-throttle sink or swim kind of situation, and as I tend to do, I swam. Things seem to have turned around but it's still a trip every day -- a new adventure in a new city in a new country where I've never been where I have to go to the venue, unload my stuff, get into a dominatrix costume and put glue in my hair and play a punk rock show, get the stuff back into the van, rush to where we're staying and maybe hang out and have a good time there, go to sleep, wake up and hustle to the next venue in a new city or new country.

Yeah, this is the best way to learn about a place, and probably the best way to learn about yourself -- it's a struggle to get to a telephone or Internet and I'm with the same five people all day and night. I didn't really know what to think of everything coming in but I don't know if I expected it to be quite like this. Still, every moment is amazing, and there are some wonderful times and there are some really crazy times that aren't so good and . . . there is a total dog orgy going on to my left. And apparently two of them are brothers. Romie: "He's boning his brother, and it's not hot." I probably needed that.

So yeah, as I was saying, three days off in Amsterdam. I don't remember where we go after that, I think Rennes, France and then Paris. I bought a phrasebook and I'm not lying when I say I'm in trouble with money. The venues feed us but beyond that I'm living off of peanut butter and crumpets from Tesco. I have Christina's travel acoustic and I'm hoping the people of these towns are generous enough to humor me a euro here and there when I go busking tomorrow. It's really scary to go around a foreign land without money, but at the same time I know I'll survive. Especially when I stay with the group.

That too -- We've done a lot of bonding on this trip, another thing I wasn't expecting being the one in the band's who's always kind of ripped on for one thing or another. But it's definitely great to get to know my bandmates better, they're really cool people. Speaking of which, I better go check on one of them. She's been drinking like a fish. Like me, I guess. I should be careful.

--mk

A day of rest in London

Thank. Fucking. God.

This has been up there in terms of intensive life experiences. I'm not even talking about Europe or traveling or having little money to go on -- I'm talking about Europe, and traveling, and having little money to go on, while having one woman monitoring your every move and critiquing every breath you make. Things have gotten really horribly intense the last few days and we're all kind of relieved to have this day off in London at some hostel where we can all do our own thing. I'm having issues getting money out of cash machines so I'm relying on my wiles and the salesperson talents my daddy gave me in order to get me through. Part of me wishes I was kidding.

I've been drinking heavily and sort of partying for the first time since this tour started. I know, you'd think that playing music in foreign countries it would be like fuck all, right? Plus I'm young enough to actually withstand this schedule and single enough (and nice enough) to have full license to look at and like all the girls I can stand, but I've hardly been allowed to do either. And this is like our only day off in what looks like maybe a week. We have three more UK dates and then off to Belgium and more countries where we don't speak the language and will have little to no idea what's going on. The adventure continues! And my sense of humor has never been more useful. I mean it, wow. I can't believe I'm still here after everything.

Tomorrow we go to Telford, UK, and then to Ipswitch and Cambridge. There are things I need to do to prepare and everything is crazy, but right now I'm happy to have had a night off where we didn't have to play and I could just fuck around. But really, I've been working -- I just sold three t-shirts for gas money to a bunch of drunk people who never even heard us before. Selling is fun for me -- when I get into a mode it becomes this fun challenge, and all I can do is win money for the band -- or really, win money that we need to live on.

Of course you're probably not going to get all the real juicy details until this is all over, but right now I can tell you a few things: 1. This is not going how I planned 2. I'm learning a lot more than I thought I would 3. I can hardly believe what's going on, foreign countries aside. People are fucking crazy. Oh and 4. I am managing to have fun. It's an interesting sort of fun, but it's also the fun sort of fun. And becomes more and more fun the more I get time to just be myself.

I think I'll have pictures for you in about a week. Meanwhile, please comment -- I need something familiar around me.

--mk

London to Liverpool

There's way too much to say and too little time to say it. That's the theme for now. This is a lot less like a magical mystery tour and a lot more like boot camp -- hustle into our hostel or floor we're crashing on, hustle out to make a load-in time that's several hours earlier than our stage time, find cheap food and tea, pour into the van and try not to kill each other. And it's only Day 5! At least I think it's Day 5. I'm really losing track of things. Amazing what will happen when you don't have your cell phone.

Speaking of not having my cell phone, I had my first attack of homesickness last night and it was a realllll killer. We had just gotten to our hostel in London and found a net cafe, and because of circumstances I ended up with 20 minutes. I checked my Gmail and Tim had written me, and it made me hurt all over. Granted I wasn't totally . . . myself, but reading it was still enough to transport me back to LA long enough for me to go, what the fuck is going on? I'm better today, but if you're reading this back home, I miss you a lot. Please leave messages because while this is an experience of a lifetime, it's not exactly easy.

And speaking of magical mystery tours, we're heading to Liverpool for a cheaper place to crash. This is actually our first day off -- we just played Huddersfield, Glasgow, Bolton and London in that order. Last night at City Invasion was our best show -- really lively crowd and great energy. I'm meeting a lot of people out here I'd probably never get a chance to meet, and I've got to say, UK punks have style out the ass. I've seen mohawks sticking out at angles that are aesthetically illegal in the US, and enough studded coats to make you worry. I'm walking around in a costume made for me by a professional dominatrix half the time and I don't feel like I'm dressed up enough.

Speaking of which, I'm sneaking a picture of me on stage and a few other glimpses of this whole story so far. There are way too many and this computer is way too slow, but when I actually get a chance to sit down and be calm it's going to be amazing.

A few of the good ones while I still have five minutes:


At Ben


Gates at Buckingham Palace


Necropolis in Glasgow -- I'm pointing at the huge 400-year-old cathedral, but I didn't know Caroline was shooting behind me


Crazy Ricky in Glasgow. One of the many Scots that kept us up all night (remind me to show you the video)


City Invasion in Bolton


On the way to City Invasion in Bolton, Caroline behind me. Remind me to tell you the story of how I became the "Domm Gnome"


Gotta go. Deep breathes.

--mk

Still in Glasgow, found Wifi

About to leave for Bolton and the City Invasion festival. These crazy Scots kept us up all night. We hope to sleep in the van. Meantime, here's what I got yesterday, when all was calm. I have pictures for all this shit but no time to upload it. Will find the time because I am determined to.

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11.4.08

M6 -- Somewhere between Huddersfield and Glasgow

I figured out the solution to my blogging issue – pre-blogging! I’m typing this from the van on Christina’s laptop and will post when I get wifi. Brilliant. Now I can bring you all up to speed.

So I left off last in London? I should probably start my tale from the airport. I was really mindful to pack very light personal items because of all the merch and equipment I have to lug around. I still got absolutely killed – getting out of the subway into Victoria station with my guitar case full of gear, my backpack loaded with merch, my spare guitar and the travel acoustic, and the stairs – the stairs!!! I used to perform in Boston’s subways and had to lug around my amp and guitar, and I would sweat carrying that stuff up flights of stairs. This actually hurt my whole body. My right arm went numb. It’s two days later and very strange bruises are surfacing on my leg. Thank God for this van.

After we unpacked the merch we took to the streets for food, air and sanity. Ate some pub food, saw some cute buildings, went back to the hotel still in a jetlagged daze and full of brown sauce and potatoes. We started rolling up merch and the next thing we knew we were all passed out on top of our beds. We woke up about 10 hours later and wanted to walk around, but couldn’t because it was 2:30 in the morning. So some of us went downstairs to the kitchen, where we blissed out on white bread and jam and tea. Everyone was wired and I was kind of exhausted from all the sleep. We somehow lasted another three hours to sunrise when we felt it was safe to tackle the streets of London again.

After a few hours of walking around our van driver showed up. Dima is 23 and Czech. He is CUTE. And shy! Which makes him even cuter.

We escaped London to find ourselves in Los Angeles traffic. The drive from the hotel to our gig north in Huddersfield was supposed to take three hours . . . it took six. This was also shortly after we discovered the van was a bit smaller than we had expected and sleeping in it when we couldn’t find a place to stay wasn’t going to be much of an option. We were also all still jetlagged and I had monster cramps, and Patty (our singer) had a headache that made her almost lose it. Christina (our bassist and tour manager) opened a beer and I jumped out to say hello to folks and take pictures, and then things started moving again. We never found out what happened and I don’t think we cared.

We were a little late for load-in, but managed fine. They fed us some very adequate pasta and veggies thing (our rider says they have to feed us at every show, which is good because otherwise we wouldn’t really survive) and then we set ourselves up and did the show. I can’t actually tell you much about it because I was focused on getting through it – first one or two get out the kinks, y’know? And there were quite a few. I discovered I need to buy a power converter for my pedals so I can use these weird foreign outlets or I can’t do the solo for Danzig’s “Mother” – which we use to close every set – with my Moser (the big, really evil-looking guitar). So since there were way more important things I needed to focus on I actually didn’t get any pictures of our first gig, but I did get the after party (i.e. bar mill-about). They will come soon.

We stayed with Pete, who works at the bar. He made us bacon sandwiches and coffee in the morning. “Bacon” is actually salty, kind of shriveled up Canadian bacon, but it’s food and I have a personal budget of about 50 pounds right now. That’s the equivalent of about $1,000, so don’t be scoffing at me because you’d probably be just about as poor as I am. Ha!

Now we’re all in the van and everyone but me, Dima and Caroline our documentary person is sleeping. But it’s blue-gray out and I think it’s hailing so sleep feels like a lovely idea. See you in Glasgow.

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Glasgow

I wrote a whole entry in the van on the way over here and they don't have wifi here so I can't post it. I'll have to do it later, and you'll have to get the story in the middle.

Second show in Glasgow. Sound was great, despite some issues. I've been in a really bad mood today and I can't really place the reason -- it's not PMS, it's not totally lack of sleep because I've caught it in between the van and the floor we crashed on last night in Huddersfield, and I've been fed and haven't lost money. I haven't even been drinking really. I can't be this crabby right now, it's like Day 2. I have a long way to go.

(Aside: This keyboard is fucking weird. Every time I try to hit return I end up hitting the pound sign, the @ sign is where the quotes should be and vice versa. Why???)

Ricky says hallo, by the way. "Doe yah moen aboot evraythin? Ah yoo jus a mony cunt, ahnt yah?"

OK fine. I'm getting off now. You'll have to get more later. :p

g

London, Day 2

It seems by the nature of this tour I'm not going to get many opportunities to steal Internet time, and when I do it will be short missives and frantic e-mail checks. But while I've still got fast fingers and a body full of this fantastic English tea I will do what I can to update you before the van gets here.

I'm at our narrow little hotel in London on a laptop with 30 minutes of battery. In about an hour we meet Dima, our Czech driver who will take us to 24 shows in 7 countries for 34 days. We're filling in some of the blanks as we go -- we still need places to stay in the UK and Vienna, still need to get in touch with media, still need to get a phone so I can tell my parents how to contact me . . . yeah, that's important. And I need to figure out why Bank of American won't let me get any money from the cash machine here. I told them I was coming here so I'm a wee bit frustrated, but it's OK-- I can live on 60 pounds for now. I get a meal per day and we start making money soon, and I don't have time to spend money or even write this. Speaking of which, moving on --

The entire flight I was wigging out that they wouldn't let me into the country. I almost didn't make it onto the plane from LAX -- a few months ago my passport had an incident with some cranberry juice and it hasn't been the same ever since. Fortunately they let me on and when I got to Heathrow I just told them it got decimated on the plane. "Oh," said the supervisor, "so it burst into flames on the plane?" Really, it's only the pages. The thing still scans. I have the pictures to prove it (no time now, but they're coming).

We made it to the hotel somehow with our backpacks and gear, took out all the merch from our bags, walked around and went to sleep. Then we did more but I'm getting yelled at the give up the computer, so . . . I'm off to Huddersfield. See you when I can.

mk

22 hours

That's about as much time as I have before I'll be in the air on my way to Terminal 5 at Heathrow at the start of a crazy month-long odyssey. I said goodbye to work, drank a big red eye at Chango and have been driving around town all day trying to think of every last little thing I could possibly need. Sadly I haven't really eaten anything to counteract the caffeine and I'm in a bitchy fucking mood. I'm really sick of this dodgy Hollywood net cafe I always come to at Sunset and La Brea -- when I get back I really need to buy a personal computer. In the meantime, I must have missed the memo that bloodshot eyes and bedhead are in style because I've gotten hit on twice in the last 15 minutes and I'm just sitting here trying to check my e-mail.

Guy: "Are you from New York?"
Me: "No I'm from Philly"
Guy: "Well I just want to say, welcome" (grips my hand really tight and scary)
Me: "Let go of my hand I hate you" (that last one I didn't say but thought)

God fuck this net cafe!

What a great way to start. No, really, I'm excited as hell -- I'm going to Europe for the first time and I'm going with a band. Fuck me, that is awesome. But all I can think about right now is the fact that I have five minutes left on this machine, I'm hungry and I need to drop Monkey off at the catsitter's. And did I mention I have yet to pack?

See you after the flight--

m