pittsburgh

we got to Kopec’s in Pittsburgh and i don’t remember what anyone said in the van or what anyone did in the van on the way the way. i think i tried to sleep mostly but sleeping in the van is like sleeping on planes. unless you’re drugged up, youre basically twitching in your seat with your eyes closed. so we got there and got a phone call from Garrett from Male Nurses.

“uhh, you know that epiphone that pat borrowed during your set?”
“yeah?”
“uhhh we have that guitar. we took it accidentally.”

we have no idea where the back-up no-name guitar that Tim gave us turned up as they said they didn’t have one. so two guitars lost on tour with plans for Terrordactyls, a thrash band out of Minneapolis, to recover them in Boston and bring them back. or Allston. no idea if they’ll actually do that or if we’ll just be out a guitar, but i’d like to think they’ll do what needs to be done.

so we get there and we meet up with Tom from Heartless and the honorable Dave Watt who did our 7″ art and is in Girlfight and a band called Sheep. i lived in Pittsburgh for a while and these gentlemen kept me sane along with other great company who arrived, Katie and then later, this kid named Jordan. but that’s all a bunch of personal who gives a fuck stuff – i could’ve just written “WE LIKED THE PEOPLE WE KNEW IN PITTSBURGH”. this first band played and i didn’t listen to them but i heard they were decent. Means to an End. that band name sucks. but so does Brain Tumors. then this band called Drug Lust played and all wore ski masks. noisy, angry, evil shit with dudes wearing ski-masks.

weird kids, too, in that way where you appreciate that there are people like that who exist and are not bullshitting about it. after the show, i had a splinter in my hand and within ten seconds, two members of Drug Lust were brandishing fold out knives and offering to help me remove it. i got it out, much to the dismay of everyone else.

Kopec’s is a fucking cool bar. most of the night was a buncha nice black folk downstairs and a bunch of grungy white kids upstairs, meandering about.

we played and Max from Much Worse said we did well. one of the dudes from Drug Lust actually bit me on the arm, i think. i’m not sure, i’m covered in tons of bruises. i screamed in a bunch of people’s faces and did my usual thing where i just stumble around and fall on people.

after the show i left with my friends Katie and Dave and went to some bar where i met a dude with the last name of SNOWDEN from Milwaukee. we talked about how he is black and people are dicks to him. dude’s an engineer i guess and i asked him if he went to school with a friend of mine from Minneapolis and his head exploded when he recognized the name. the world is small, but everyone knows that. he gave me his number and told me if i’m ever in milwaukee, he would fly back and hang out with me.

katie and dave and i went to the giant eagle grocery store and bought junk food, sat around and ate pizza and watched seinfeld. i rotted away for the night on the floor with cat dander fucking up my nose.

got a ride the next morning to a shopping center off the highway. after waiting a number of minutes, i called Joel and all he said was,

“we’re getting pulled over right now. call you back.”

last tour i was on, people got pulled over and arrested for a bunch of shit out in the middle of Tennessee, so i’m way fucking nervous about cop related things. i sat at a Panera bread listening to some woman with mutated arms scream at her grandson to do things for her, giving him precise instructions on how much ice to refill her coca cola.

“BRING ME MY CANE!”

at that point i’m tired and sick on lack of sleep, basically ready to throw up all over her. but the cop shit was fine, apparently they got pulled by a state trooper/truck inspector who noticed that everyone in our van is a fucking twit and gave us advice like

– You are not a band
– You are not on tour
– In the trailer is just luggage
– You are just passing through

we were pulled for having no lights (which we keep trying to fix) and apparently if youre traveling as a band, you need to have a DOT number.

somewhere in pennsylvania, a butterfly slipped into the van window and smashed into aaron’s face.

i keep buying shit at gas stations for pat to wear. he also has a flat brimmed hat with a dollar sign on it - which he bought.