I wake up sick to my stomach just thinking about the fact that I have to write a tour journal. I decide to add that to my tour journal. As usual I do my dishes in the morning, but this is no normal morning. I’m slowly mentally preparing myself for the fight of my life; a full 10 day tour in the brutal Canadian summer heat of late July and early August. No one’s that stupid, right? Well, Fuck The Facts is and we’re going to turn ‘stupid‘ into ‘success‘ by moving a few letters around, adding some new ones and taking away most of them. With my eyes closed I clench my soapy sponge and breath slowly, slower and even slower, until I can see the wolves running through the forest like a van on the highway. I am now at one with tour.
Marc and Johnny don’t live in Ottawa, so usually a few days before tour they come down and stay at my place so we can get a few last ‘practices‘ in. Johnny is sleeping on my couch and Marc is sleeping in my ‘secret‘ room. Before long those guys are awake and We’re sitting around the kitchen table discussing the upcoming tour over sips of coffee, but there’s not much time for chit chat, we need to get ready.
Writing a tour journal is a lot like getting ready for tour, and getting ready for a tour is a lot like getting ready for prom night. You can never be sure what to expect, so you need to be as prepared as possible. It’s also a lot like shooting yourself in the foot, in the way that it’s painful but it has to get done. I guess perhaps it’s more similar to major surgery or a job interview, it’s gonna get messy, but at least there’s always a doctor nearby.
Things you need to get ready for tour:
1. A Map (just one will do. Most cities are the same, so you can pretty much get by with any map.)
2. Tour Itinerary (this has all the tour info, so you’re not fucked.)
3. Merch (So later on you can tell people that don’t give a fuck, how much merch you sold)
4. Personal Garbage (2 shirts, toothbrush, extra underwear and socks. Bring more than this and you’re an asshole.)
So now that all that shit is ready, what’s next? Tell your stupid friends! I jump on the internet and start Facespamming and Myspamming and Interspamming and Goospamming and Youspamming everyone I know. ‘I’m going on tour! Bring me some cookies!’ I E-scream!
We hit the jam space for one final rehearsal before tour. Turns out we can’t actually play our songs, but we figure that’s alright since it’s ‘grindcore‘ and no one will really notice. Soon all the gear is packed up and we make a spontaneous decision to drive to Fredericton, NB tonight. Last time we were in Fredericton we had our picture taken with a Santa Claus there at the mall and we ending up becoming close friends. We spent 3 days partying at his house with these transvestite hookers that he referred to as his ‘elves’, even though most of them were over 6 feet tall. So we figure we can probably just meet up with Santa again and chill out a few hours before the show.
Blog ending version 2:
We jump in the van and hit the road. Marc is sitting in the back of the van acting angry and violent. He tells me that there’s nothing that he hates more then people that are worried and crying, and if he had it his way they would never see their families alive again.