Tuesday Dec. 22nd 2008
I arrived at Pearson Airport at ten to seven Thursday morning in a such a state that it was pretty much ridiculous. Pitting a little more than two hours sleep against a hemisphere’s worth of jet lag was not one of my smarter decisions. A day earlier, while en route from New Zealand to Toronto, my custom-made Holy Fuck case (the one that contains all of my gear) was crushed, presumably run over buy a luggage carrier (or an airplane). Attempting to repair it as best I could, only to have it reopened for security screening, it was now trailing long strands of bright orange tape like some sort of half-dead beast dragging it’s own bloody entrails. Then my shoe fell apart. Right there, as I was approaching the check in, the sole of my left shoe came undone and started flapping loudly like a hilarious laughing rubber mouth. Damn it! They were the only pair I brought. In my head I was trying to think of which combination of days verses flights would sound most impressive in case I had to defend my shabby appearance- five flights in three days? thirteen flights in ten days? two alone being over eleven hours? With both luggage and footwear held together by Air Canada tape I headed off to my gate, clearly as a martyr of modern day transportation. Or so I would’ve believed.
Arriving in Denver I would’ve believed anything. I confessed to my sister as she came to pick me up that I felt like I was tripping on mushrooms… in a bad way. My voice felt strange and distant in my own head. My body seemed to be passing into some other state while my consciousness was drifting further into a tunnel. I was covered in croissant crumbs. I looked no better than my two year old niece who’s entire face was covered in chocolate. I needed sleep.
Since arriving in the mountains I have done little more than sleep. At thousand feet just about anyone would feel tired. With little else to report I’ll recap my Australia/ new Zealand trip.

Australia/ New Zealand- Dec. 7th- 16th 2008
So much for writing a blog. I never did much enjoy emailing or ’surfing the net’. Now in the land of expensive internet I remained comfortably off line. Depending on which day you would’ve found me I would’ve had a different report to give. I was surprisingly moody. This tour ended up being really busy, almost too busy. Were it England I wouldn’t have cared. But after traveling to the other side of the world, to another season (summer at that) it would’ve been nice to have a day to relax or swim or hike. Instead our schedule consisted of waking up, flying somewhere, going to a radio station, sound checking, eating, half passing out, playing a show, hotel, then sleep, repeat. Not that this is any different from a handful of tours we did earlier this year. I guess I just wanted to experience some of the excitement this part of the world can offer. I wanted to ride a kangaroo, wrestle a croc, throw a boomerang at a shark. I wanted to relive some of the good times I had seven years earlier when I came with By Divine Right. But not only did By Divine Right get some time off, we also got sun. Not so with this trip. Everywhere we went locals joked that we brought the rain and cold with us. Hooray!
But like I said, on a different day I would’ve been more enthusiastic. The shows were fantastic. People were great. Our hosts, promoters, and our mighty crew of two were some of the best folks we’d ever dealt with. In fact we even enjoyed some rainy pool and hot tub time as well as a couple saunas. Even the accommodations were deluxe.
We stayed on the 39th floor of a high rise hotel in Brisbane that I could only liken to a sort of dorm meets condo for young idiots meets Asian mall. A gaggle of make up girls in hot pink t-shirts marked Bride’s Bitches passed us at reception. Our tour manager Natalie shoved her finger in her throat and made a gaggy face at them. Awesome!
I describe this particular hotel so that I can segue into another story of how absent minded and forgetful I can be (see blog entry number one). After experiencing a pretty startling steam burn in the sauna of said hotel I returned to my room in a daze. After some recuperation (a cold shower) I realized I had lost my shoes. This would be a new low of things lost while touring. I headed back down to the pool area only to find it closed for the night. So there I stood in the hallway, me in my neon green and black checkered socks, next to a six year old boy in tears. “You lost your shoes. And he lost his stuffed Koala”, the father said to me in broken english, as if he needed to point out the humiliation of a full grown man being no smarter than a six year old. Again, these were the only shoes I brought, and it was too late for any stores to be open. I’ve done a lot of dumb things this year, left a brand new camera in a hotel in Atlanta, left half my gear and my passport in my apartment as we headed over the border, slept in a construction site in Brooklyn, New York. But this would be, by far, the dumbest yet… going to a gig in sock feet.
In the end our trip was pretty awesome. New Zealand was beautiful, and rainy. We’re hopefully making plans for next year. Plus I did get my shoes back. Now I just need to keep them from falling apart.

So as promised in my last entry here’s that photo of my caramel apple.

Sunday, Nov. 30th 2008
As for last night’s plans to stay in, well… that didn’t happen. As soon as I finished my blog I got a text from my good friend, one who I had been trying to reach all throughout my Vancouver stay. We went out for dinner and drinks. And, as we headed back to Six Acres, I was able to take the photo of ‘Gas Man’ that I had wanted to take the night before.

Upon landing in Calgary the following morning I started feeling a little, um, itchy. Guess what?

Vancouver Bed Bugs! That’s right… oh the joys of travel. Forget about the mental and physical exhaustion that come from unstable touring life, try seeking out rest within that instability, only to sleep night after night on strange beds in strange hotel rooms. Last time I got bites like these was in Mexico. They took over eight weeks to clear up… and these ones are way worse! Believe me, I felt like pulling the rental car over and rolling naked on the frozen gravel beside the highway like some sort of mangy dog. This put the ‘itch’ in ’son of a bitch’. I eventually did pull the car over, at a pharmacy to buy some cortizone cream. I’ll keep you updated on my healing progress… and, no, I’m not carrying them around with me. Don’t be afraid to give me a hug next time you see me.
Brad had already joined me at this point in the tour. The show that night was ace. It was held in a very clean and intimate theatre venue. Shows like this can make for an early night. Despite this I felt the need to get out and perch myself at a bar, pen in hand, and work on some lyrics (I was beginning to feel the audience was catching on to the fact that a handful of songs in my set have only phonetic murmurings, and no real words). The Ship and Anchor provided a great backdrop for this. Or so I was willing to believe as I was aiming to unleash some beer infused lyrics for show number three.

Dec. 1st- Dec. 3rd
I really enjoyed playing these shows. By Edmonton I felt like I had finally gotten my wind back, literally. It’d been so long since I’d done shows like this that I not only had to relearn how to breathe on stage, but how to do so while singing and playing guitar. Audiences were kind to me. I lamented having to leave immediately after the Saskatoon show. It would’ve been fun to hang around for once (it seems I’m never able to get out and really get a feel for this city). Instead Brad and I had to drive four of the nine hours on our way to Winnipeg. Arriving in Winnipeg early had its advantages though, like having time to compete for fastest slide time on the hotel water slide (we tied at seven and a half seconds).

Thursday, Dec. 4th 2008
Returned rented equipment, rental car, flew home tired, ate soup, watched Simpsons, caught up on email, wrote this blog, listened to Die Kruezen and Dog Day (Their new album will rock!).

Thursday, Nov. 27th 2008
I’m not sure what kind of blog I’m going to write. What could I possibly add to the never ending dribble of on line journals? I don’t know the answer; so I guess I’ll just start writing and see what kind of nonsense I can dribble out.

Let me begin by listing what I forgot to bring with me on this tour: camera battery charger, GPS unit, and laptop power cable.
It wasn’t so long ago I could tour without a laptop. As I was planning to manage myself on the road alone, I knew I’d need it. So my first order of business upon arriving in Vancouver was spending $110 on a replacement. I should add here that due to that same forgetfulness I also managed to leave my camera behind every time I left the Hotel. Therefore there’ll be no pictures in this entry of my blog.

The next order of business was finding food. I parked myself at the trough of a sushi boat restaurant called Tsunami. What a great idea for a solo dining experience. Pieces of sushi float by on a magical river, and I, like some sort of hungry bear, just paw it out of the stream.

A friend recommended I check out an art opening at Grace Gallery. She apparently got the date wrong. As did I when I checked the address online. So off I went in a cab to a gallery that wasn’t opening for 24 hours. I stood in front of the space for an awkward, embarrassing moment. Thankfully I heard my name called out of the blue. An old acquaintance from Toronto was passing me on his bike. We ended up chatting for a bit, which proved to be good timing as it allowed a few moments to spy a handful of people duck into a dimly lit unmarked side door of the building. So that was how I found myself in a pretty cool little bar called The Narrow, and even better, was how I found myself coincidentally sitting next to another old acquaintance, Michael Rak, bassist of Frog Eyes. Michael and I toured together in 2007, supporting Wolf Parade. I ended up reminiscing with Michael and his girlfriend Kerry for some time over many pints. The best of our Wolf Parade recollections was a story in which Michael, after drinking too much Jack Daniels at The Metro in Chicago proceeded to stumble around on stage during Wolf Parade’s set, head banging and rock saluting, then, somehow managed to sign a Wolf Parade poster for a fan, writing “Eat Shit, Dan.” Apparently in response to this our drummer Glenn Milchem, with a very sober and stern look, said “Not cool, Man… The fans are all you got.” If you knew Glenn you’d laugh. I left the bar with a content, slightly drunken satisfaction of having hung out with two really fantastic people.

Friday, Nov. 28th 2008
By 2:30 in the afternoon I had already finished five individual CBC segments at their studio in downtown Vancouver. Upon leaving, Toronto’s CBC called for an interview, bringing the count to six. I’m definitely not complaining. I feel very fortunate to have their support. More importantly they are nice folks. And it was a good shelter from the rain.

Later that evening I trudged on down to The Commodore, soaking wet, with my guitar and pillow case filled with merch. After finishing what I think was a pretty good set I found myself having to rethink my guitar set up. I had played quietly through Martha’s amp in a fashion that could only be described as softly farting through the sheets of a home made ghost costume. All the while the low rumble of the audience nearly drowned everything else out. Oh well, with that out of the way it was party time! So Michael, Kerry and I zipped off to Gas Town.

I was really wishing I had my camera as we sat next to the balcony at a great little bar/ eatery called Six Acres. We had a cool view of the rainy, wet brick lanes surrounding the back side of a statue we only knew as ‘Gas Man’. Gas Town alleys, especially in the downpour of cold coastal rain, have a sort of Blade Runner quality to them. At least that’s what I thought as we headed off with the junkies and hobos looking for an after party. What we found was a pretty cool warehouse/ loft type gathering complete with a lemonade-stand style bar selling what I’m told is the shittiest brand of beer in all BC. I can’t tell you where the hell we were. All I know is that it was somewhere on Hastings. There was some cool art, including one particular piece, a lottery ball scrambler with custom made lottery balls. You know… what do they call ‘em? You crank the wheel and the little balls bounce around and come out on a little track? Whatever it’s called, we were having a little too much fun making the balls whip around in it. Within minutes of discovering the piece we somehow managed to make the whole thing crash to the ground, with little yellow balls exploding everywhere, and panicking patrons chasing wildly after them. Sorry. Really, I don’t know how we managed to do that. It actually happened about a minute after we stopped playing with the damn thing.

Saturday, Nov. 29th 2008
I think I’ll stay in tonight. I know I’ve been saying that for the last four years. But really, it’d be nice to give my liver a break and rest my voice. So, as I’ve forgotten my camera for all these adventures, I’ll conclude with a nice photo of my little dessert I plan to reward myself with. Awww shit! It turns out that I also forgot to bring my camera to USB cable. Damn it! You’ll have to wait to see the picture of my caramel apple.