You're lame and you throw boring parties. (Hello!)

Taking crack #4,000 at maintaining this as a way to kill time. Just got back from the Fest in Florida. Saw Grade. (only youtube clip I could find - bummer) Then AWS had the arguous task of trying to get back to Massachussetts. We couldn't get back. There was no way to fly back, and we had the deadline of getting back here in time to pick up our passports for Brazil, as we're leaving the day after tomorrow. So, we drove. 7 of us in a Chrysler Town & Country - straight into the goddamn hurricane. It was cold. It was wet. We were redirected right into the middle of New York. Our TM, Chad, at one point got out, took off his shoes and went trudging through a flooded intersection to see exactly how deep it was. Needless to say we made it across - no leeches, and Chad wasn't bleeding from his ball-sack. This drive sucked. And I've been on some shitty ones before, but all I wanted on this one was to get back home to Erin and the cats in MTL. Still do, but I got work to do in South America, before I return to the wonderful world of remidial warehouse work in Ville St. Laurent. That's all for now - not my best post but I'm just re-wetting my feet in this leech-infested swamp of blogging, so you can all suck my fat-one you cheap dime-store hoods. (I'm sorry and actually didn't mean that - but you get my point). Happy Halloween.

The world's a stage, and I, I am the one who consistantly falls off of it.

Meanwhile, Back in New Bedford...

I find myself in a piping hot room, there's an air-conditioner, but I can't use it - I always get sick when I go back and forth between two extremes (not unlike anything else in life). It's two days after tour and my hands are shaking from the two cups of coffee I downed too quickly. Creatures of habit, right?

This has gone through my head a million times in the past, but I don't think I've ever written it down. I don't know if other musicians feel the same, or the specific events that have guided my life in this one direction has somehow ... smeared my genetic makeup, but this stop-and-go lifestyle sometimes feels like crashing into a brick wall.

I welled up on the last ride home, my brain felt like it was on fire - This seems to happen to me about twice a year, nowadays. I hate it. I fucking HATE it. I guess it's "anxiety", but it feels like "double-reverse-explosive-anti-anxiety" - freaking out at spending down-time, time alone, doing a lot of sitting and thinking. I'm not good at thinking, if "born with a capsized brain" were an old saying that actually existed, I'd hear it a lot. I was mouthy, bitter and upset, and the moment I caught myself being this way, I cornered myself off from the guys and stayed silent and sobbed.

(I'm not always like that - and 2011 has been especially good to me. What the hell is wrong with me? Good Question, Brian! Fuck.)

Real-life is hard, from what I remember. The routine, the monotony, the complaining, all that stuff that actually seems kind of fun right now. The thing that drives you crazy with being a nomadic touring-musician is the waiting, weighing out disappointments and rewards, avoiding trouble, getting as much sleep as you can - all for your 30-45-60 minute sets. It sucks to know/confirm that "Living the Dream" isn't really that easy either.

Don't read too much into my existential mumbling, I just wanted to get where I'm at right now out of my head. I'm not gonna go Cobain and develop an appetite for gun-metal. (What? Too-soon?). All in all, I'm writing to climb out of the tiny little pit I dug for myself over the last few days.

Tolstoy once wrote "All the diversity, all the charm, all the beauty of life is composed of shadow and light." - and I may be taking that wrong, but I do firmly believe that if you can pull a rainbow out of a piece of shit, you're not doing so bad.

Jesus fucking Christ Tolstoy said that better.

~Insert Standing-Ovation here~

Signing off - Sober & sweating,
Brian J.

NICK ANGELINI AND MYSELF, AS SEEN HUNGOVER ON COSTA RICAN TELEVISION

SO - we're it's been confirmed that we're going to be playing shows with Millencolin in Mexico/Panama/Costa Rica... here's what's going to be put on television:

I’VE STOPPED MAKING WISHES THAT DON’T COME TRUE.

Tuesday April 20th, 2010: En Route from Adjovscina to Venice.

We’re on our way to Venice right now. Taking a panoramic look I’m surrounded by mountains and vineyards, para-gliders and a cloud-less sky. I don’t know why this is, but my memory regales itself with stories from my past littered with times of crying so hard blood-vessels in my face broke. Or even the time I was sitting in the waiting room for my first psychologist’s appointment admitting to myself that I’d finally “lost it”.

If I could go back and tell that miserable person I once was that everything was going to be okay, I would. I needed it, and no one said it. But I guess that’s the payoff on “barely hanging on by a thread” – I don’t blame myself for anything that’s brought me down anymore. I’m also not expecting amazing things to happen to me. I don’t expect anyone else to roll like this, but I think I’ve found my niche in terms of handling my own life. I still worry, I still get upset from time to time. But times like this, I think it’s good for the benefit of my own sanity that I can remind myself that at the best of times, I can finally give myself at least a little bit of credit, gently pat myself on the back and “you’re actually… sort of… doing okay right now…”

Right now, I’m currently seated at the front of our mini-bus and I have something I really need to get off my chest. I am, really – truly, in the funniest band on the planet. I’m typing this and half-eavesdropping on various conversations that could be part of a “It’s Always Sunny”-esque sitcom. Yesturday we had a day off and parked the bus at the base of this mountain in Slovenia. So, y’know – to take a break from playing shows, and getting rowdy, we drank whiskey. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Trevor Reilly:

I’m not exactly sure if this is funny to anyone but me – maybe people that know us, but this shit is fucking funny. If you don’t think this is funny, then you haven’t been hanging out with me or Trev enough.

Here’s what we’re living in right now – and let me tell you – it’s a lot better than a $500 a month apartment in Korean-town in Toronto.

After a night of trying to sleep, getting three hours, this is what I look at:

... Amy FTW.

day one: berlin

DEAR MURPHY, SUCK ONE: En Route to Berlin…

Nothing ever goes smoothly. I’ve learned that, with regards to “Murphy’s Law” – that “Murphy” is an asshole. After shelling out over $1000 in surplus baggage, the guys and myself are at least wiping the sweat off of our heads and settling in on the plane. We have a SWEET 7 hour layover at Heathrow coming up before our flight to berlin. NONE of us have any UK money, or any Euros for the upcoming day off before we start the first show at 007 in Berlin.



That being said – I have settled in nicely with a tiny bottle of red wine, and I’m finding a subtle resolve in the fact that we at least got on the plane, I got time at duty free to get smokes, we’ll be overseas soon – 6 weeks… we get the (mini) bus this time – shit could be a hell of a lot worse.

I’ll be blatant in saying I do have my reservations about this tour. For those that do know me well – I have spent my time in Europe outside of being on tour, and we are heading through some dark emotional territory… I’m thoroughly fearing going back to Austria this time. I won’t go into details but I put too much faith time and money into going out there, and finally I’m past that part of my life. The only people I want making ME feel garbage is Mike, Trev, Nuno, or Nick. (They don’t. Don’t worry. It was 99.9% sarcastic… ). It’s gonna be hard to re-visit that place. This is a new experience for me, going to a place that is soaked with now-sad/bitter memories that ISN’T Toronto! … FUN!



It’s all good though. Don’t worry about me, if I was as spineless and weak-willed as people have been trying to convince me for the last 28 years, I’d have thought up a really funny way to die and gotten myself in the Guinness Book of World Records.

One thing that has dawned on me, as I look through my own vasoline-coated crystal ball – Is that I’m not as excited as I used to be about coming to Europe. And even despite the obvious explanations previously mentioned. It’s weird to think that I’m not stoked on going to the other side of the world. That once-fun part has just become a part of the usual, the mundane, the every-day. I still like to think of myself as a 28-year-old boy, but I think this is the first thing I’ve noticed that sways me to think that I’m finally getting old. Is this work? Is this what happened to touring? … PLEASE, PLEASE don’t read into that too much, (I don’t think anyone reads this blog anyway)… I’m not *Levesque-ing this whole situation, it’s just sad that you can get “used” to exotic locations, far and wide. You turn into a visiting local.



BUT – who knows? I can’t fully say something like that with absolute conviction, because of what I’ve talked about, because of going through Europe with nothing… to actually worry about… with the people who’ve stuck by my side through all my stupid shit so far… why the fuck not barrel straight into this with the mindset of that 18 year old kid that I was the first time I left Ontario.

Well, I guess I’m at the point of my trip where I should try and get some sleep… I think. I do have 7 hours of nothing to do in London… can’t wait, I’ll have to find another home-schooled Mormen from Salt Lake City to try and get along with like at the end of the Rise Against tour… bwa. … ha … ha.

PS – Blog #2 will probably happen while I’m at Heathrow, and it will be a hell of a lot more tired, and crankier than this.