Ape Life

How to Have Fun with Your Favorite Junkie

2008-04-21T08:24:00.001-05:00

How to Have Fun With The Family Junkie

1. Steal his shit first

2. Hide the spoons

3. Switch his brown chewy lump with clustered snake turds

4. Rat on his dealer

5. Write on his face with a sharpie when he's nodding

6. Dip his needles in pee- pee

7. Put tacks on the bathroom floor just before he vomits

8. Tell him his poetry sucks

9. Change the locks and bar the windows, this time for real!

10. Put him in a straightjacket to induce withdrawl and pump and pump a Tammy Faye Baker sermon through the speakers at full blast.

breaking apart

2008-03-21T12:15:00.003-05:00

Minneapolis

We had our first great show in MN. After the show, we met Lori B., the drummer from Babes in Toyland. She took us home with her. I went to bed at 3:30 am. At 4:30 am, Erick hears a knock at the bathroom door (it was me, no memory of going downstairs). I tell him to get out because I have to throw up. He opens the door and I collapse to the ground. He helps me up and heads toward the stairs. Then I fall again. He gets freaked out, obviously. I crawl up stairs. Somehow I broke my ankle. I tried to tell at 4:30 am but he wasn't processing and I wasn't speaking clearly.

We got to the hospital at 12 noon the next day. I leave 6 hours later with a cast the size of a moon boot. They said I have to get home ASAP for reparitive surgery.

I wont be home till Monday morning. We aren't cancelling shows.

See you soon.

March Animals go South

2008-03-15T17:44:00.000-05:00

Round two started on Friday, March 5. We were leaving town with a brand new transmission and excitedly heading south. I was armed with a new wallet, driver’s license, and sunscreen.

We left for Richmond around 5pm Friday afternoon. Even though its only about 100 miles to Richmond, traffic on the DC beltway and on 95 South is pretty congested. I expected it would take around 4 hours. It rained most of the way. When we hit Lorton, home of the Virginia state penitentiary, Erick had to pee.

When we got out at the gas station, there were a few folks standing around smoking near the toilets. They sure looked like a band. I figured we would start running into people going to SxSW. I had to ask.

“Are you guys a band?”

“Yeah,” one of them answered.

“Who are you?”

“An Albatross.”

“No way! We’re Apes!” An Albatross have been together as long as we have. We first played with them in a basement in New Brunswick, NJ. We were on tour with Liars and it was two weeks after 9/11. We made a connection then and ran into them many times over the years. I think we even played a show together in Brooklyn.

We would be together for most of the tour and it was hysterical that we happened to stop at the same bathroom, at the same time, on the way to the first show in Richmond.

They arrived first, as I got on 95 going the wrong direction.

We have not played in Richmond since 2001. The last time we played there (also with Liars), a drunk girl had thrown a glass at Erick and they got into a fight. I vaguely remember some wrestling on the floor. I think I dragged her off him. We vowed to not go back to Richmond.

The club, The Camel, looked very new, very clean, and was nicely laid out. There was a bar side with seating, and a stage side for the show. We were playing first, then An Albatross, and Amoeba Man was closing the night. Amoeba Man is the band of Jason, who is a great Richmond/Charlottesville promoter. He had promoted our show with the Slits the year before.

I think we had a blast playing. The floor was slanted as to allow people in the rear of the room to have a few of the band, who was playing on the floor. The crowd was enthusiastic and it felt LOUD.

An Albatross is comprised of five men: Phil on keys, Eddie the singer, Jay the bassist, Stevie the drummer, and Daniel the guitarist. Their music is fast, loud, screamy, and the show is HIGH energy. I felt like we were a great compliment to each other and I loved watching them play.

Amoeba Man was great as well. We spent the latter portion of the evening professing love of each other’s music.

Jason was kind enough to give us his apartment for the night. Erick and I both dreamt of someone trying to kill us.

Raleigh.

The weather leaving Richmond was pretty perfect but as we headed south, it got quite cold and extremely windy. The wind was so strong it was blowing the van either on the shoulder or into other lanes.

We arrived in downtown Raleigh and it was very quiet. It was a Saturday night. I wondered where the people were. An Albatross had already arrived and were sitting at the bar. I met the bartender to ask about food or buyouts. There would be neither. He explained (and we already knew) that the first promoter had dropped the show very recently and he had been kind enough to pick up the pieces. He had told our booking agent that he couldn’t meet the original guarantee or rider. They were very generous at the bar though.

After our various dinners, we got to sound check. Its extremely important that we get sound checks whenever possible. Jeff is a HEAVY hitter and plays extremely loudly.
Erick’s frequencies are slightly atypical because he plays a baritone guitar. Breck is a powerful vocalist and as a group, we need sound checks. Having monitor levels set appropriately makes all the difference between a show where you can relax and let loose or be stuck trying to hear what’s going on and forcing the rest.

The show was originally going to start around 10:30, I believe. However there was a UNC vs Duke Basketball game on the television. We had to wait for the game to end.
At around 11:30pm, the game ended and the bar mostly emptied out. Showtime!

The music sounded great but for the deafening feedback that occurred several times. It was nobody’s fault but I found myself wishing for earplugs on multiple occasions. An Albatross also played a powerful set. I met several very cool people that lived locally. However, that night we were going to be staying with long time Ape friend, Mike B. Mike B and his lovely wife Sarah, had moved to Raleigh not long ago and had a house outside the city. Before we could leave, I did a live phone interview for the WUSC radio station. It was the college radio station for University of South Carolina. We were playing in Columbia, SC the next day.

On the way out of town, I finally saw the people. The intoxicated masses were spewing out of bars all over town and driving recklessly to other locations.

We got to Mike’s carpeted home around 3:30 am. New houses have very nice carpet padding. Mike offered snacks and drinks. We hung out for a bit and went to bed.

I had forgotten what it was like to play in smoky bars since much of the northeast has now instilled a cigarette smoking ban inside restaurants and bars. We reeked of cigarette smoke. Even the van smelled like cigarettes. We did laundry. I got to shower in Sarah’s shower, the girl’s shower. It was lovely. Thanks, Sarah!

The next day’s drive to Athens was largely on country roads. It was bright, warm, and the skies were clear. Its hard to be in a bad mood when the weather is perfect.

We had been warned that the show in Athens might be desolate. Athens is home to University of Georgia and we were playing on a Monday night during spring break.

Erick bought a baby’s monkey jacket from the vintage store next to the bar. He couldn’t resist.

The promoter, Gordon, took both bands for dinner at a pizza place up the street. We enjoyed our first family style meal together. They were kind enough to let me have a salad.

I have to say the sound was great at that club. The soundman was extremely well seasoned and the people in the audience, while it was only a few, were quite enthusiastic.
Gordon introduced us to Pierre, who offered to host us. Pierre and his roommate Davey made the whole stop worth it. They had a small house right outside downtown Athens.

Pierre had moved here from France a few years back and had a heavy French accent. When we got to his house, he was making polenta with ‘stinky cheese’. I proclaimed that his polenta was the best late night snack I ever had. He insisted it was terrible. He had no olive oil, only rice bran oil, which was unacceptable. He was supposed to leave the house at 8 am the next morning, because he was going with an Athens band, to SxSW. I don’t think he went to bed till after 4 am. At 8 am, someone knocked loudly at the door. I waited for Pierre to answer but he never came out of his room. I answered the door eventually and had to guess which door belonged to Pierre so I could wake him up. When I opened door #1, I saw a large fisherman sweater on the floor and a slight body underneath a sheet. I guessed wisely. When I woke him, he shouted “Oh FUCK!” which sounded great with his heavy French accent. After a quick shower, Pierre was off to Texas. I hope we see him down there.

Chattanooga

When we got off the highway, we saw a billboard the read, “Wake up America, if racial profiling was legal, 9/11 would have never happened!” There was a animated picture of the two towers blowing up. Many yards displayed homemade signs depicting biblical quotes. Most quotes warned of Christ’s return and suggested that it would not be pretty for the sinners.

My favorite yard art was a large (maybe it was a cow) skull placed atop a long log (that was supposed to resemble some kind of Animal neck) and the body of the animal was covered with a confederate flag. I was afraid to stop for a photo.

Jeff’s brother and his wife live outside of Chattanooga. We stopped at his brother’s house to drop off our gear before going to the show. Brian, Jeff’s brother had just pulled into his garage.

“Good thing I was home,” said Brian, “I didn’t know you were coming here first.” Jeff replied, “I emailed you two weeks ago.” Brian responded, “Well I never got it,” and thus began the dialogue marked by short phrases and somewhat irritated or exasperated tonality. The Schmid men are not men of many words. While they are lovely people, they carry sort of a constant tone of slight annoyance.

I think Brian’s wife, Laura, was very happy to have new people around. We talked a lot before going to the club.

We headed downtown to the venue and shortly after, tried to go to an burrito place for dinner. The van full of the Apes and the Schmids provided ample conversational entertainment. I wish Erick had recorded it.

When we got back to the club, the first band was already playing. In fact, they were almost done. We had asked to play early because Brian had to wake up early to go to work. But it was really early. We took our time loading in and got a mini line check. Then I did a mad dash to the van to change clothes. I think it was the fastest change I ever did. When I got back, the room seemed full of people.

I had my mask on and went into the crowd to meet people. Someone grabbed my entire ass cheek in his hand. Since he got me from behind, I had no idea who it was. I made a comment about it in the monologue but honestly, it didn’t phase me. Maybe it should’ve.

For a small club with no monitors, the sound was great. Daniel from An Albatross assisted. And Eddie, Stevie, and Jay have begun standing close to the stage and clapping rhythm during a few of the songs. Its pretty awesome to hear them and see them while I am playing. Even when no one else is there, it really increases the human factor and just gives me a generalized good feeling.

Brian has a very close friend, another Brian, who Jeff has been in a band with. Brian B. also lives in Chattanooga so we went to his house after the show. He has a giant empty house not far from Brian and Laura. There is a band practice studio off the garage, and a entertainment throughout the house. We should have had An Albatross stay with Brian B.

Oh I forgot that Jeff’s obsession for the evening was finding earplugs. He planned on sleeping on the couch in the living room. His brother was going to be up at 6 am making protein smoothies in the kitchen and Jeff did NOT want to hear the blender. I gave him my earplugs.

Breck and I slept in a clean, lovely, guest room. Erick slept in the kitten room. Laura had rescued four kittens and Erick elected to sleep with them. He said they were only insane for the first two hours.

We relaxed for a while the next day before deciding to cancel our show in Huntsville, AL. It would have been an 800 mile drive to Houston the next day and it seemed pretty ridiculous to try to do that drive in one day.

Even though An Albatross invited us to stay go to New Orleans with them, we opted to drive and find a motel outside of New Orleans. We did not make a reservation and when we pulled off the highway in Slidell, LA, Jeff couldn’t find any rooms for under $80 a night. We only found one room for $60 that was 50 miles away. We got back on the highway.

I pulled out the GPS. Jeff has been making the calls and I thought I could do better. The first place I called was the Motel 6 back in Slidell. They had rooms for $56 plus $3 for internet. They had told Jeff a much higher price only moments before.

I told Donna I was on my way.

Jeff put on a movie when we got there but I read some and fell asleep.

When I woke up, I was quite hungry. I had seen a Cracker Barrel across the street and decided that I wanted to eat there. I don’t know why. The urge to slowly make meals smaller and less frequent never leaves you. You just have to learn to ignore it. Sometimes I don’t ignore it, and the day before had been a “light eating’ day.

So it was Cracker Barrel. Jeff went to Walmart to try to find steering wheel fluid. Breck and he had been researching how to find the power steering fluid receptacle under the van hood. Eventually Breck found a how to video that was for another type of car but seemed close enough.

After a stop at the surplus store for a new orange hat, we were on the way.

The rest of the Feb NE tour. This is the end.

2008-03-15T17:35:00.001-05:00

Detroit was a hoot and a holler. We got there around 9:00 pm, just in time for the van to skate across the yard of ice designated as parking lot in the suburban housing subdivision. Inside, we found a middle-aged man with a mass of curls and a button down shirt, frying up about 30 pounds of cat fish for the 20 or so misfits inside. In the library, there was a game of Dungeons and Dragons going on, and several people were watching some kind of net porn. I sat down at a table to collect myself after the tense drive. In front of me, for my reading pleasure, was a copy of The Poor Man’s James Bond. I remembered this book from my college years. It’s something akin to The Anarchist’s Cookbook. The first page was covered with hand-written text. It was titled “The Do it Yourself Home Suicide Kit”. There were precise directions for how to quickly and efficiently cut and bleed yourself to death. A razorblade was taped to the page. I went to the bathroom.

The bathroom was only half complete but not undecorated. A large orange pentagram was painted on the tiled wall above the bathtub.

I was encouraged.

There were two opening bands, both from Brooklyn. One featured a guy running a laptop, while his partner, adorned with a computer monitor on his head, accompanied with vocals.

By the time we played, the kids were ready to get tribal, and that they did. There was an impromptu mosh pit in the living room. A few very drunk kept people falling over. Despite the awkwardness of the arrangement, it felt like we played well. We certainly connected with the audience.

Jeff, at some point, had gone upstairs to use the bathroom and discovered two rooms. One was all climbing walls, and the other displayed many swords.

While I was changing back into street clothes, I listened to the dialogue from the other room. It went something like this.

“We should get naked,” from an adult male voice.

“Do you think? It would be weird to get naked,” from a young female voice.

“Wow, there are naked people in my living room,” from the voice of the host.

“We should take pictures!” from the adult male photographer that had been capturing the entire evening with very professional gear.

“I can’t believe there is a porn shoot going on in my living room!” from the host.

I stuck my head around the corner. There was the guy who earlier had worn the computer monitor on his head, now nude, with a naked girl on each side of him. They looked young: there were lots of flash bulbs.

The promoters started bringing in snow covered couches from the backyard, in preparation for the Apes overnight stay. We decided to get a motel. I saw one of the promoters hand Jeff a wad of cash.

When we finally arrived at our room at the Knights Inn following another drive through nasty weather conditions. I asked Jeff how much we made. Keep in mind that the guarantee was $500.

“60 bucks,” Jeff answered with flat affect.

I flipped.

“Are you shitting me? No way! That’s bullshit! Why didn’t you tell me?” I was freaking out.

“What would you have done?” Jeff responded.

“We would have taken a trip to the ATM with a tire iron! What the hell is wrong with people? We had a freaking agreement. They broke it before the show but I read those emails that stated that they would be paying almost what our guarantee was. Why is it that every other service in the world, when provided, is paid for? Why is it that people think musicians don’t need to be paid? Why are we seen as disposable? Is it because they think we are having so much fucking fun? We have expenses. We have bills. We are driving around the country in a vehicle that gets 14 miles a gallon and paying over $3.15 per gallon of gas everyday. We are not rich people!” I was livid. I am still livid. If the kids couldn’t keep their end of the deal, they should have cancelled. They should have gone to the ATM.

I do not believe in violence. I do not believe raising one’s voice is an effective way to communicate or get one’s needs met. I did feel, however, that there needed to be a consequence. One must know that one has made a mistake has been made. In fact, it is very difficult to change human behavior. However, it is not impossible. Behaviors that are reinforced over and over again, will repeat. If there is a consequence for a behavior which one should change, over and over, the hope is that that behavior will change. You must teach a replacement behavior, a more desirable replacement behavior. I felt that I missed a teachable moment.

Chicago

The next day we headed to Chicago where we would meet up again with Sole and the Skyrider Band. The venue was the Abbey Pub. The van was on its last legs. I could barely get it to start, to reverse, and to get into drive.

The show that night was great. I won’t drag it out. All of the bands were performing at a top notch level. The stage sound was great and the audience was great. One of my best friend’s from home, Evan, lives in Chicago now. We went to his place after the show. There was more boozing and bro downs and finally quiet comfortable sleep in a quiet comfortable house.

The next day, we ate at our favorite Chicago falafel place. There is nothing like it in DC. Breck did most of the drive to Columbus. We hit several potholes on the highway and the van would simply shut off at a speed of 75 to 80 mph.

I was looking forward to Ohio as like Pittsburgh, it had become sort of a second home.
The little bar was packed when we arrived. The highlight of the night was the two man comedy team—insert name-.

Our set was notable for a few reasons. Right at the end of Practice Hiding, Erick’s bass rig died. He is quite adept at figuring out the broken part of his chain so we were back in action pretty soon. The crowd was quite somber and I keep making mistakes. I hit tons of bad notes and the Korg fell off the top tier of the stand 4 times. I toned it down but I never felt like I recovered. I met quite a few complimentary folks after the show but the feeling of being a fuck-up had entered the brain.

However, we were staying with long time Ape friend, Gene Mullet. The man is a rock mainstay of Ohio and we were lucky enough to form a friendship. He has a beautiful clean and stylish home right outside of downtown Columbus.

I think I fell right asleep in the giant king size bed with fluffy comforter.

In the morning, I met Lindsay, Gene’s beautiful, smart, and sweet fiancée. It made me happy that he had a love connection. We went to one of Gene’s favorite places for breakfast and had a relaxing last meal on the road. I took lots of photos of other diners and their meals.

I took a different route on the way home thus avoiding the Penn Turnpike. It was a great move. There was beautiful scenery and smooth roads the whole way. When we had about two hours to go, I started to get sad. Erick was on the phone with his girlfriend, excitedly planning his first meal back. Breck had been talking happily with his girlfriend as well. I envisioned Jeff’s mom in the kitchen baking him cookies. Then I got a text message from my mom.

“Your cell phone bill was over $121.00. Stop using email. Get the rest of your crap out of your bedroom. We are turning that room into a walk-in closet.” Ouch. There’s my love.

When we got back to Jeff’s, my little old car was dead. Although, it started right up with a jump from the van, the reality of the age and life left in that car, smacked me in the face.

When I got back to my house in the city, I went to the bathroom. When I stood up from the toilet, my new cell phone, which contained pictures and videos from the entire tour, plopped into the bowl of Diet Mountain Dewed- flavored urine.

We found out a few days later that the van needed a new transmission. We had no choice but to replace it. There was no time or money to purchase a newer van before our next tour that started in two weeks. The new tranny cost about $1500.00 which was surprisingly cheap. The total income from the tour, however, went to fixing the van. Total take home pay from 2 ½ weeks of shows? None.

The shows were great. The people were great. I love our new record. I am thrilled that people seem to like it. We are adequately warmed up for part 2.

Next chapter: Tales with An Albatross.

Rochester, Buffalo, and part 1 of Detroit

2008-03-02T15:52:00.005-05:00

There are very few highways in Vermont and in the Adirondack Mountains of New York. We were eventually to Route 90 across NY State but we had a long drive through small towns, fields and mountains to get there. When we got about halfway to Rochester, the howling winds and snows began once again. In the van, we were treated to more of the same-- no heat, no defrosters, and no windshield wiper contact on the driver side. However, I was now used to it.

We got to the Bug Jar about 8:00 pm and went across the street for food. There is an Asian restaurant that serves Chinese, Vietnamese and Thai food. Jeff elected to order the same menu item as Breck. Erick finds the act of two people ordering the same menu item completely intolerable. He will voice his displeasure with this choice and then mock the "doubler", even after the meal is served. He claims it violates good dining out rules. We already know.

We are hoping for a better show at the Bug Jar tonight, than in shows past. The local band, Tiger Cried Beef, was opening and apparently they were a local favorite. One of the members, Keith, had contacted us after reading an old blog that described how everyone left after the opening band played on our last stop in Rochester. He promised that would not happen again. He also offered to put us up for the night after reading about the bizarre accommodations we had previously. There have been some hard times in Rochester.

Company, from Brah Records, was going to play in the middle. They had played with us in Burlington. Nice folks. Very pretty music.

Tiger Cried Beef came through with their promise. There music was great. They had a good crowd. The crowd stayed. The crowd showed enthusiasm. I began to think that our prospects in Western NY State were improving.

After the show we caravaned to Keith's palatial home. Our van was barely operable. I could not get it to reverse at all. I could also only barely get it into drive after having it slip in and out of gear and not catch. These were not good signs.

We arrived at Keith's and all piled in (Company stayed there, too). Keith gave us the tour, which was extensive. The house was absolutely huge. I was also struck by the cold inside temperature. I was EXTREMELY grateful for the bed to sleep in. I was EXTREMELY grateful for the clean showers, great company, great food, and good stories. I was also just quite freezing.

That day I purchased the little chemical foot warmers that you squeeze and the chemical reaction from the two solutions mixing, produces several hours of heat. I stuck them in my socks, put my hat and coat on, and went to bed around 3 am. I think it occurred to me that if I got up to pee, I would step on the warmers, spill the chemicals and give myself burns. What happened was I woke up in two hours with my feet wet and cold. I don't know what happened.

The next Keith fed us delicious home made food and entertained us with rock 'n roll stories. We only had a one hour drive to Buffalo. It was 17 degrees outside. I started calling mechanics to get an oil change before we left town. Keith gave me a coupon for a $15.00 oil change. I made an appointment for 5pm. Jeff didn't want to wait. I thought that was ridiculous. We needed new oil. We needed our wiper fluid replenished. I was hoping they might be able to give us the slightest idea of what the hell was wrong with the van. I was overruled.

We drove through snow showers to get to Buffalo. The GPS was giving us wacky directions. Actually now that I think about, we simply didn't see the club, as it was not clearly marked from the street. It was so cold in that van that I didn't care if we lived through the evening. When we finally found the club, I was desperate to get inside. It wasn't much warmer. The dressing room was heated but that was it. I planned to isolate in that room for the evening.

We loaded in down a set of wet and slippery back stairs and had a decent sound check. The sound man and the promoter were both named Mike. I think they were two of the nicest guys were met on tour. Mike the promoter drove home before our set and brought me back a silk undershirt. That's real kindness.

We got burritos that night. Then we drove around in circles trying to find a grocery store so Jeff could get cliff bars.

Back at the club, they had turned off the heat in the dressing room. The girl who played first also worked at the club, Bev Beverly. She released a bunch of balloons throughout her set. The audience seemed to have a blast throwing them around. I pocketed that idea for future shows. I thought it looked great and gave people a great chance to interact without actually having to dance. Not everyone likes to dance. Next up was Hotel Nourishing. The self-described math rockers had quite a bit of innate musical talent. I will be interested in seeing how develop over the next few years.

I think we had a blast playing that night. A decent sound check goes a long way. Thanks, Mike! After the show, we met a lot of very cool people who had many kind words for us. We were introduced to Kyle, who would be hosting us for the evening. Kyle informed us that he was house sitting for an older gentleman who owned a massive loft space above a huge artist studio. He promised he would crank the heat. Kyle kept his word. The place was huge, clean, and warm. The space had an indoor garden, abundant musical toys to play, and ample space for us to spread out. We talked to Kyle for a while and went to bed quite late, warm and happy.

The next day Kyle had invited us to eat lunch at the coffee shop where he worked. We ate well. The soups were delicious. We had to set out for Detroit early as we had to go through NY, Ohio, and Michigan. Typically you cut across Canada but I had no ID.

The van barely started and was cutting off once we hit the highway. We HAD to find a mechanic. Using my GPS I found a place called Mohawk quick lube, about 8 miles off a nearby highway exit. It quickly became apparent that we had entered an Native American reservation. When we found the location that the GPS directed us to, there was only a little house back in an empty field. I looked closely and saw that the sign above the garage read "Mohawk Quick Lube". It did NOT look like we'd expected. We were expecting the typical urban jiffy lube.

The fellow who serviced our van was clearly Native American. He charged us $17.95, with no additional taxes, fees, or instructions to replace our rear differential. It may have been the cheapest and most interesting oil change we'd ever had. While we waited, Breck and I wandered a bit on the snowy grounds outside, taking pictures of empty fields.

Back on the road, we had a long ride to Detroit. Jeff took out the laptop and set up a movie. We watched "The King of Kong", the story of the quest for the title of World Champion of Donkey Kong. It was a great story. I highly recommend checking it out.

The snows began again about 2 hours outside of Detroit. I no longer batted an eyelash at the weather. No one else up here seemed to either. When we pulled off the highway at the GPS directed exit, I was struck that we were CLEARLY in a residential suburb. I did not have a good feeling. I knew that the venue had changed, as Scrummage University had just been unexpectedly closed down.

When we pulled into a suburban subdivision, I wasn't altogether surprised. When we found the house, there was no real driveway. There was a sheet of ice and various cars parked in odd locations in the yard. The house looked like a hansel and gretel cottage.

Outside we were greeted by a young fellow in a print hoodie wearing some kind of gold chain. This was our promoter. I had been reading some email exchanges about this show and I vaguely remember the promoter PROMISING that even though Scrummage had been shut down, he was still almost certain he could get us almost $500.oo. I was now very doubtful.

Next section-- Satanists? Anarchists? or just a very nice bunch of people

2008-03-02T11:25:00.001-05:00

Pictures from the Black Cat Feb 29,

http://www.flickr.com/photos/nano66/sets/72157604021362197/

These beautiful photos were taken by Fernando. Infinite thanks for your interest, execution, and brilliant artistry. Also, your quick action in posting is quite admirable. MANY THANKS!!!! We love you!!!

home sweet home?

2008-02-25T22:19:00.002-05:00

Well, its Monday night and we are home. I have several entries to write and will do so in the next few days. I must report that the shows were great. I also must report that there are multiple tales of weirdness, sadness, mechanical failure, and human oddities. I finally figured out how to get the videos from my new phone into the blog, but last night, as soon as I walked in, I dropped said phone into the toilet.

5 days

2008-02-19T00:19:00.006-05:00

We went to Whole Foods after leaving Breck’s sisters house on Thursday afternoon. I had begun using my new cell phone as my navigator. It has an internal GPS and this GPS, unlike Jeff’s computer, will detect one’s location and give verbal and visual instructions to your destination. Jeff needs your present address and then he needs to know which direction you are facing. Then he is quite lousy about telling you each direction as they occur within any trip. He prefers to update Apes data in Excel Charts, or watch fights that he has downloaded. Once I liberated him from his duties of navigator, (this happened today), he plugged in headphones and watched a boxing match on his laptop. Every few minutes he would make sounds of shock or surprise in a sharp pronounced “OOH!” or “EEW!”. I asked him to stop because it sounded like he was reacting to me about to hit someone or something on the road.

The drive to NYC was lovely. It was the first clear day and my Ipod was choosing to play lots of Rush, CCR, Sandy Denny, Love, and the Who. It was so wonderful to drive without relying on ANYTHING for guidance.

We got to NYC around 8:30 and Zach from Ex-Models helped us load in. Shahin appeared shortly after. We have known these guys for years. We did some of our first out of town shows with them. I had a flashback to 2001 and sleeping 7 people stuffed on a filthy floor in a house in the woods by some train tracks in Athens, GA. I had to sleep in the kitchen that night because there was simply no other available floor space.

After loading in, we chatted with people and then I tried to go off with Jeff and Pat (from Liars and currently, These are Powers). I did NOT want to eat Indian food with Erick. Sometimes I just need to get away from him. I was less than a half block away when I heard, “Kleiny! Wait!” I shouted back at him that I was going with Jeff and Pat. He chased after me. I caved. We got food from a little Indian carry out place that was more like a deli. There was counter for people to stand and eat lining the narrow store. Mature Indian men lined the store. I got two little piles of veggie curries, one spinach and one squash. I gave Erick the rice.

We went back to the club, where the show had started. I talked to Shahin for a while and then, my ex-boyfriend appeared. I had not seen him or talked to him since CMJ 2006. There was no ill will but he was the last person that I dated seriously, and we were together when I was not too much fun to be around. It was truly GREAT to see him. I was reminded of what a NICE guy he was.

Lots of DC folks showed up. It was a bit chaotic during set up. The stage at the Cake Shop is at the bottom end of the basement level of the club. When there are four bands playing, it’s hard to find your equipment. Well, we got set up quickly and launched into our set.

It was a fun set. After we finished, I sat by the merch table for a while. I talked to our friend Mark from Queens for a while. Then I met J.R. He was definitely cute and definitely my type. He told me that he had seen us many times over the years, in lost of strange places. Modified Arts Space in Phoenix was the first show he mentioned. That brought back some strange memories. He told me that OddEyeSee was one of his favorite records of all times. He understood the record on the level that I had always hoped people would be able to connect with it. I think very few people understood that record.

I had to go upstairs when These Are Powers were playing. They are a fantastic band and extremely talented people. I simply had no ear plugs and their set was one of the loudest I had heard in a long time.

So we loaded out, when back to our friend Greg’s place andsuddenly it was 3:30 am.

Friday

We met our friend and booking agent, Michelle, and her friend Dan, for breakfast.

When we were heading to the BQE, I was in the left lane on Meeker Ave. There was an old man in a Lincoln Town Car in the left turning lane, one car in front of me. When the light turned green, he starting waving wildly. I had no idea what he was trying to communicate. He got out of his car and started screaming at me.

“Can you see I am trying to back into that space?” He was screaming his bloody head off. There was no space. He was trying to pull backward into the right lane. There was a line of cars in the curb lane.

I opened my window and smiling sweetly, I said to him, “Hey, everything’s okay!”

“What are you, stupid? I know, I have a wife!” He jumped back in his car and tore off to the right, around the corner.

Boston

The drive to Boston was long. Traffic was heavy, probably because it was a holiday weekend.

We pulled up in front of the club. The wind was howling and temperatures were bitterly low. Erick and Breck hopped out of the van and went in the club to pee before we attempted to load in our gear. I sat with Jeff for a moment but then decided that I may as well pee, too. I walked up to the door of the club and pulled the handle. It was locked. I looked around for another door but didn’t see any.

I thought I heard someone say, “Are you in a band?” The voice was quiet and I almost thought that I had imagined it. I turned to look in the direction where I thought the voice came from and saw no one.

“ARE YOU IN A BAND?” This time I heard it. I turned in the direction that it came from and saw an old leathery man standing on the sidewalk near the other side of the door, smoking.

“Oh yes, I am.”

“Look at me when I am talking to you! What’s the matter with you? Don’t just ignore people!” he continued at a volume I would call shouting.

With a broad sincere smile, I answered, “Sir, I have hearing problems. I wasn’t ignoring you. I didn’t know which direction the sound came from.” Still smiling, “It’s not very nice to simply start shouting at people.”

“You’re pretty rude to ignore people!” he bellowed as he unlocked the club door.

I walked in and stopped to survey the scene. There were multiple meat-head looking
fellows scattered about. We were in for a helluva night.

After load-in, the four of us went to a Thai restaurant. Erick mocked Jeff for most of the meal. Jeff made fun of us for years because of our preference for “world foods”. I am not a fan of typical American fare. But until recently, I wouldn’t eat most foods, American or “worldly”.

Back at the club, people were starting to gather. I would classify this crowd as a “white hip hop crowd”. I mean nothing by this statement. I am simply trying to create a visual reference point. Anyway, I didn’t think we would go over so well.

We scattered. I spent some time talking to Ryan, one of the musicians in the Skyrider Band. He was young, tall, blond, and HYPER. But we had plenty to talk about.

We played our set right around 11:00 pm. I played terribly, at least in my mind. When the show was over, I hid in the dressing room. I actually tried to sleep in a pile of our dirty clothes on the floor.

Our friends Andy and Makoto, from Tunnel of Love, had come to the show. About 5 minutes before Sole was finishing his set, I went downstairs to hang out.

Jeff reported that an audience member came up to him and said, “I wasn’t that into your alls music but I have to give you props. I have never seen a drummer get his stuff off stage that quick.”

We went back to Andy’s house. We were staying in the attic bedroom of his parents’ home. He and his girlfriend lived separately in the basement apartment. Erick immediately found several old guns- -a bayonet, and a hand gun. He just started aiming them at us and firing. The guy is a jackass. He had no idea if there was even the slightest chance they could be functional and loaded.

Erick slept in the laundry room. Jeff and Breck slept in the bedroom. I decided to sleep on the wood floor in the computer room since I have been told that suddenly, on this tour, for the first time in 8 years of touring, I am snoring. It seemed polite to try to separate myself.

At 7:45 am, I woke up and started vomiting bile. Bile is a greenish-yellow fluid that's essential for digesting and absorbing fats and for eliminating worn-out red blood cells and certain toxins from your body. It is a base (as opposed to an acid, different than acid reflux). Vomiting bile in your sleep is a violent act. You wake up choking and spewing yellow fluid from your mouth. It burns intensely and the only way to stop the burning is to consume an acidic drink to neutralize the bile. Diet coke or coffee or orange juice would have helped. Normally I would drink one of those fluids to reduce the burning. But this time I was not in my own home. The parents did not know we were there. I couldn’t go digging through their kitchen. Additionally I had inhaled some of the bile. I just ran into the bathroom and tried to get it out of my nose and lungs. I was pretty disgusting. I drank a bunch of water and eventually the pain subsided a little, enough for me to lay back down on the wood floor of the computer room to try to go back to sleep.

About an hour later, someone started shaking the doorknob.

“Why is this door locked? Who is in there?” It was Andy’s father.

I thought I would die. I opened the door and explained who I was and apologized profusely. The only reason that the door was locked was that the wind kept opening it and slamming it shut. I didn’t want it to make noise and wake people.

I grabbed my bile encrusted sleeping bag and got out of there. The dad actually took me downstairs and made me a pot of coffee and we chatted politely about our respective careers. The coffee did help the throat pain but I was having trouble breathing because of the bile now in my lungs.

I gave up sleeping and took a shower. Several hours later we all went out for breakfast but I couldn’t eat. I sipped on a nice Diet Raspberry Snapple Iced Tea.

Providence

We were playing at a club called The Living Room. Erick went to Rhode Island School of Design and any time we play in Providence, it feels like a little homecoming. The heat wasn’t working in the van and it was about 17 degrees outside. I was still feeling quite ill from the episode in the morning but now I was dizzy and had chills. We walked into the club and the temperature felt no different than the outside. The Living Room has a very ‘down and out’ feel. It is a very bare bones old music venue and the inside looks well worn. Sole and the Skyrider Band had already arrived and I chatted with my buddy, Ryan, after we loaded in. When it was time for find food, Erick recommended Apsara, a Laotion restaurant that he used to frequent back in his RISD days. We found the restaurant using my little navigator and off we went. The van had just started presenting with a new ailment. It wasn’t shifting into reverse, and it was dying when I shifted into Drive. Its always an adventure with the 87 Ford.

We made it to Apsara, had a great meal, and headed back to the Living Room.
There were several larger bald guys wandering around now that were not there when we arrived. One of them was the hip hop artist known as Prolific. He happened to be the first guy I met at the merch table. He was a lovely person and a great performer. Telephone Jim Jesus played and then it was our turn. I finally felt like I had a kick ass show. We all did.

Erick’s friend Brian, from Lightning Bolt showed up and invited us back to his warehouse. He warned us that it’s wasn’t heated. I called Andy. We decided to drive back to Boston. Breck drove. I had a fever but was not revealing this information. We made it back to Boston safely and I slept like a rock.

Burlington

The drive to Burlington, VT was breathtaking. We were essentially driving through snow covered mountains the whole way. The weather services were reporting a wintry mix for the next two days and I was hoping that we would get to Burlington before this wintry mix rained down upon us. We were all pretty excited to get to Burlington because Jeff’s close friend from home lives here now. I have written about Neal before. He is the guy that likes the Seven Layer Burrito from Taco Bell. Neal and his lovely wife, Annick welcomed us into their home to drop off our gear before heading to downtown Burlington. We ate Indian food and then went to the club. The promoter called Erick to ask him if the other bands could use our gear. It always amazes me when local bands call to ask to borrow our gear. If they are in their home town, and have their own equipment, why would they want to put extra wear and tear on our gear while we are on tour? That was the first thing that I asked the promoter when we got there. He explained that this was simply to minimize change over times. I didn’t push the issue.

The bar had a few folks inside. Erick and I began observing the guy who was supposed to be collecting money at the door. He let six people in without paying. We were only getting a percentage of money taken from the door that night and there were four bands on the bill. I walked up to him and told him that he needed to charge everyone. Erick and I watched him like a hawk for the next 45 minutes. Now I feel a little bit bad about this because maybe we freaked him out. I don’t know. He got someone else to cover the door for the rest of the night.

The first two bands played. We went on about 11:00 pm. The kids in Burlington were AWESOME! They danced like crazy. That is the best feeling. It provides the ultimate fuel for a show. I think all in all, it was a great show. However, I was totally wrecked and couldn’t wait to get back to Neal’s house.

When we got back, I went into the guest bedroom. There was half-eaten kale leaves on the floor, a large kitty litter box, and a black and white rabbit hopping around. I had forgotten about the rabbit. He has some real personality, this bunny. I did remove several hard little rabbit turds before going to bed. Bunnies miss the box sometime. I could picture getting up in the middle of the night and getting turds embedded in my socks. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

Burlington day off

I woke up at 9:30 this morning. My breathing was a little easier. I set up the laptop for the first time in days and got to work. We went to downtown Burlington at about 2:00pm. One of the kids from the show last night (another major promoter in town) told us to go to the restaurant where he worked and implied he might be able to hook us up with mimosas. We went to the said restaurant and asked the waitress if the kid was there. He was there and we told her to tell him that Apes were here and said hello. At some point during the meal, he walked by and waved and walked away. Jeff was the only one who saw him. It wasn't his fault. We weren't in his section and the restaurant was quite busy. The food was great though and the server was very nice. After that it was ‘book store’ afternoon. I was in heaven walking around downtown Burlington. It reminded me of Eureka, CA. There was an abundance of folks representing all sorts of counter culture and subculture and just as many yuppies. After I had my fill of the book stores, I went back to van. I didn’t eat with everyone else because I had to budget my per diems (wallet gone, no money). I had an apple in the van and I was starving. When I got to a traffic light, I observed the white flashing hand that said pedestrians can now safely cross. There was a bus coming around the corner and I stopped to wait for him to make his left turn. Then I ran across the street. Some guy in a car rolled down his window and shouted, “DIDN’T YOU SEE THE STOP SIGN, STUPID?!”

I am beginning to really enjoy getting screamed at. When the guy looked at me for a response, I smiled and put my finger in front of my mouth to signal him to “Shhhh…”

We went back to Neal's and I spent the rest of the day writing and catching up on email. The boys watched Ultimate Fighting. We were all glued to our laptops.

Dinner was at Moe's-- a burrito place in town. When we walked in, we saw a line of about 30 people in front of us. Apparently we went to the restaurant on the anniversary of their opening and they were having a Moe's birthday party. To celebrate they were handing out free Moe's t-shirts, birthday cake and balloons.

I tried to get Jeff a balloon but the blowing lady never returned. Haha.

When I was getting ready for bed, the bunny got friendly. He hopped up on the bed, started sniffing my toes and then chomped. When I yanked my foot away in response, he ran up to my chest and jumped on my tits. I lay face to face with the bunny. We had about an inch between us. Could it be I've found a friend?

I have photos. Coming soon.

It gets interesting quite quickly

2008-02-14T14:27:00.002-05:00

Wednesday morning, around 9:00 am, I heard Breck's phone ring. I think that I thought it was an alarm clock. Then I thought that it was set because everyone wanted me to wake up and shower first. Honestly, I don't know what I was thinking. At 10:30, I woke up Erick. Breck and Jeff had showered the night before and I thought Erick would want to shower. How wrong I was.

He was in a deep sleep and was quite perturbed.

The day only got better from there. The ice from yesterday had turned into torrential rains. There were mini floods are all over the place. Thick fog prevented me from seeing ANYTHING again. But we got to Philly safely and headed to Breck's sister's house.

The show itself was at a fancy diner. Everyone was annoyed that they were not providing food. We were simply getting a 20% discount. The first band was three girls and a drummer. Two of the girls were singing and dancing in a cheerleader spirit.

When we went on, things started promising. I was beginning to believe this might turn into our first good philly show ever. But then my whole rig almost fell right off the stage. After that, my Korg fell off the upper tier of my keyboard stand 4 times. I still tried to focus on playing but the rocking out part was brought to a minimal level.

After the show we hung out with friends for a while and then began the journey back to Bianca's. We stopped at 7-11 and that's when I discovered my wallet was gone. Actually I don't use a wallet. I use a pencil case for money and cards. But it was gone. So the last 10 hours have been looking through my bags, searching the van, returning to the club, and cancelling everything. Now I will look forward to a tour with no ID/driver's license. Clubs love to ID band members. This wouldn't be a problem if I looked my age. I get mistaken for a students constantly when I am teaching. People walk into the classroom and say "Where is the teacher?", I am pipe up its me. I get funny looks.

And my bandmates don't believe that it is really gone. They think I stuck it in a bag other than my backpack. Who knows.

Well, now since I have no money, I will be engaging in plenty of sex and drugs so here's where the tale will finally get interesting. If you are under 18, you are ousted.

Hmmm.........

2008-02-13T01:20:00.008-05:00

I am going to simplify this and will re-write it later as a story.

Today was departure day. Erick, Breck, and I left DC by noon and went first to my parents' home so I could pick up an outfit piece that hed been accidentally shipped there. I called ahead to prepare them for a very quick (in and out) visit. Sensitive parents tend to develop hurt feelings when children run out the door without a high drama goodbye. My forethought failed. I ran in the house, grabbed the package, hugged my brother, and headed for the front door. My Mother shrieks, "I HAVE TO SHOW YOU SOMETHING!"

I reply, "Mom, I have to go."

She starts screaming. I am not exaggerating.

I say, "What Mom?"

She hands me the phone numbers of solicitors who have been calling me.

I leave.

There is a whole lot of madness in that house. But this story is not about my family. Someday I will write about the childhood. Its not your average "White trash Jews coming up in North Potomac, MD story."

Anyway, we go to Jeff's. I clean the van while they load. We're off. Upon leaving Jeff's courth, I almost pull out in front of an oncoming car. They scream at me. Then I notice that our steering is freakishly wrong. The van is pulling hard to the right. When I try to compensate, we weave back and forth across the road. I am instantly alarmed because I know they won't listen to me when I tell them that we can't go on the highway like this.

We fill the tires with air. No more steering troubles.

But, within minutes, the ice starts raining down on our little trip. Jeff relays a warning from his frien Neal,of Burlington, VT.

"Look out for the black ice." Great. I will.

Jeff starts hissing "black ice" at me as the ice accumulates on our windshield. I can't see anything. The fan in the van isn't working so the defrosters don't activate. When we hit 95 North, I turn on the windshield wipers. They just scrape over the ice. Eventually, the friction melts the ice blinders in one spot and I can see through a little hole directly in front of me, maybe about 4 inches of glass in diameter.

There is slight clearing until we hit Northern Maryland. By the time we hit the Jersey Turnpike, there is ice falling steadily and I can't see the road at all, either in front, to the side, or behind me. We pull off to a rest stop and try to clean the windshield. It doesn't help because our wiper blades are not making contact with the windshield. We stop again at exit 11. We purchase a nasty chemical de-icer and some new wiper blades. I have pictures and video of Jeff and Erick trying to clean the wipers over and over again.

We are only 65 miles away from Purchase. We head in that direction because I honestly don't know where else to go. The turnpike is covered with snow. It seems that there are no plows. There are sand trucks but no snow clearing.

I basically drive between 25 mph and 40 mph for the next 3 hours and we arrive at Purchase at 9:30pm. I have been driving straight for 7 1/2 hours through pretty harsh conditions. We jump on stage and play.

We meet Sole and his posse (hip hop guy from AZ, we are doing a few shows with them). I am not too articulate right now. We are staying in the 'new' apartments on campus and we have effectively bug-bombed the whole place. There were several kids hanging out here when we arrived. They were all gone within 15 minutes. They were immune to Apes charm. Erick acted as the Apes representative fun guy and went off with our host, Daniel, to drink with the young people.

I went to SUNY Purchase for one year, 1991 to 1992. After that year, I ran off to France alone, and ended up transferring to U of MD. It was there that I moved in with Jeff and we started the hard core band known as "Nightmare Assault." Good memories.

Everyone loves a clown, unless they are chasing you with a steak knife.

What the hell are you doing???

2008-02-11T22:36:00.000-05:00

Tonight is the last night that I will sleep in my bed for a while. There are many pre-departure activities that are on my list of things to do before take off. Because I can't find a duffle bag, I seem unable to do anything else. I spent the afternoon at Goodwill, trying to find a warm jacket. I found a decent ski jacket for seven bucks. The only drawback is the sky blue color is not really my tasts. Then I had an afternoon snack with a friend. When I finally made it back to my house in the city, it was 6pm. And I simply had to go for a run, even though it was well below freezing. And while I am normally limited to 30 minute runs, tonight I felt the need to keep going and going and going.

And then when I finally got home, Erick came over to use my exercise machine (the Gazelle glider, quite freaky)and distracted me with bullshit talk till almost 9pm. Then I was on the phone with a friend for another 30 minutes (I do not like the phone). While speaking, I discovered that Itunes publishes TONS of university lectures and classes, free for the taking. How cool is that? I downloaded a few educational morsels to listen to while driving. Gotta make the internet work for me.

Good golly, Miss Molly, now its 10:45 pm. Clothes are scattered all over the bedroom. I think I need a man handler for the next trip. This is ridiculous.

I tried to sell merch to my algebra and geometry students all day long. The little girls bought mostly t-shirts. Why would you buy the shirt and not the record? Kids these days.

3 Days and Counting

2008-02-09T21:44:00.000-05:00

We have three days before we hit the road. I realize that it is highly improbable that we won't hit snow somewhere, but its been determined that this will be an amazing tour. I predict that we will experience fortuitous encounters with highly exception humans of all types. Chances are we will be sleeping in sternutory accommodations, complete with all conditions of cats. And the music, oh the music, it will be satisfying.

My selfish and personal goals for this tour are to finish a series of critter drawings, continue the portrait project (if you are willing to sit for me, that would be great), actively photograph and video the scenery with a quick turnaround for posting, AND play well.

I wanted to tell a story about a group of mini midgets that gathered on my lawn last night and sang to me. They were beautiful.

Monday Fun Day

2008-01-28T14:23:00.000-05:00

Monday, January 28, 2008

We are trying to finish a bunch of new songs to test while we are on the road and the pressure is on. You see, I am the weakest link. When we write songs, I have to practice constantly to memorize these strings of parts, simply because the pace of our practice does not allow me to write things down. I am a visual and tactile learner. I need to see it. I want to write it. I love to touch. I always have some weird little peice of something in my hands that I rub compulsively. This whole winter, I have been picking up every single lost glove that I see in the street. There will be a glove project. More hand and finger and touching themes.

Last night we had a particularly brutal practice. At least it was brutal for me. I had not recorded our last practice and had no reference point. Erick was not impressed. Nor was he silent in his dissaproval.

After a practice like that, I need to walk alone in the dark outside. There have been a string of nasty muggings in my neighborhood. Last week my roommate was robbed at gun point on our front porch. For the first time EVER, I have been mildly intimadated by the prospect of wandering my neighborhood alone at night. And last night, I stayed in again.

My point is this.....I was tired and felt like an asshole but I still had to get up at 6:00 am to teach middle school. I had to blow off some steam. So I stayed up all night drawing. DUMBASS! I finally fell asleep at around 4:30 am and my alarm went off at 6. If I am going to be staying up all night, at least I should get some job. Got no lotion, got no deodorant. Now we are driving back to Gaithersburg for another practice and I feel like there is nothing between my ears. Ready to fall on my face exhausted.

But, hey, that's life. I am not complaining. I picked this existance and I love it. It means so much to me that I start writing again and everyone is leaving comments, You guys are my crew! Everyone has left DC! I am blabbering. I need to get a cat and some bear mace.

I have a new friend who knows how to butcher road killed deer. Do you think that I should add eating roadkill to my foraging for wild edibles practice? I think I'm ready.

Check out this band..............The State Workers. They have a myspace page. Amazing videos. I endorse them. Ha.

The new record, "Ghost Games," is officially being released on Feb 19.

To begin supporting this record, we leave for tour on Feb 12. Our first stops for this first tour are all in the Northeast and Mid West portions of our country.

I vaguely remember when Erick asked me to review the itinerary back in November. When I saw locations like Rochester, Buffalo, Burlington, Detroit, and Chicago, I believe my response was "Dude are you fucking nuts? Do you recall how our van does in the snow?" Erick, the king of practicallity, informed me that we had no choice but to go North. The reason for this choice is that in March, we will be hitting the south, deep south, and south central parts of the country. So, to him, there was no logic in repeating those towns. I still maintain that there is no logic in touring places that chances are, will have inclement weather while we are either en route, or playing.

One of the few nights that I was pretty sure we were going to die, was when we drove home from Hoboken, NJ in a snow storm. I recall trying to drive to the Jersey Turnpike on a snow covered neighborhood street in Hoboken. A trash truck pulled in front of me a few hundread yards ahead. I started breaking gently as to allow plenty of stopping time. That was the first skid. There were two more before we hit the turnpike. I had suggested that we simply stay in the city that night, since we have about 25 friends that would have hosted us. (Most of our DC people are now living in NYC) But the boys would have none of that. I remember that night, that Jeff decided he would take over driving since I was adamant that we not try to make it home. He said something to the effect of "Quiet, you Scared Woman. Let the men handle this one." Our old manager, Matt W, of ESL Music was with us. The combination of humans in the van certainly put our likely death at a more comedic level.

The turnpike wasn't being plowed. And the snow was coming down so hard we couldn't see a thing anyway. Trucks would drive by us and it would send us skidding toward hell. We stopped once to pee and I stepped into a large ice puddle, leaving the feet and legs wet and cold for the rest of the 9 hours that it took to drive home. No heat in the van. That night, Jeff was daring God to stop us! They thought the whole thing was hilarious. It probably was. I no longer get uptight about flirting with death.

But the moral of the story is that we are going north at a time of year that we have no business being in the north. I asked Jeff if we could get tire chains as he is the band accountant. He said he had no idea how to put them on. I said, umm, we can learn. Its not that hard. He said if we had chains on our tires, we would never make it to shows anyway, since we wouldn't be able to drive above 30mph.

I said sometimes its not necessarily about making the shows. Being trapped, being stranded, skidding, sliding, and wrecking seem worthy of avoiding.

Those guys blow my mind.

I think its time for me to get a life.

The Art Blog is up

2008-01-24T10:47:00.000-05:00

The art blog is up! Check it out. Drawings, comics, portraits, illustrations, photos! You can commission me. Send me a picture of your face, or face and body! I will draw you. You can purchase the original for $50.oo or more. This is a bargain. They are guaranteed to be worth more and go up in value quickly.

http://apewomanmakesart.blogspot.com

I am also hoping to start a discussion forum. Making art can be an isolating process. Write comments! Tell me what you are working on! Send me pictures! I want to dialogue.

-Amanda

Selfish Monkey Announcement

2008-01-23T13:19:00.000-05:00

I am going to start a new blog-- an art blog.

I am going to put up illustrations, portraits, comics, book projects, and photos.

I am going to create this beast because I am looking for work. This will be an attempt to allow people to see the types of images and critters that I like to make. If you see something you like, let me know.

Oh Brother Do We Have Fun

2008-01-17T08:40:00.000-05:00

The last time I actually wrote and told a story, I believe I had promised to report on a running accident. It wasn't that interesting. I was alone in the woods at 6 am, last summer, running on a trail that wasn't quite a trail, tripped on rocks, sliced my leg up, and dragged my sorry ass home, bleeding like a bitch.

Then I got in the car, drove myself to camp with a gaping leaking wound and dragged the lame leg in behind me. The camp nurse came to my classroom to give me an epi-pen trainer around 9 am (to give to children with bee sting and peanut allergies in case of anaphylactic shock), and looked at my leg at said, "Umm, would you please step out of the room?"

"You need medical attention," says middle-aged short haired, whistle adorned campish woman figure. "That would needs stitches. Its longer than an inch, deeper, and hanging open."

Although I don't like being told what to do, I have learned to quiet all reactions and simply smile and say thank you for the concern.

"Do you have a band aid?" I inquired. "Or better yet, do you have a butterfly bandage?"

"I do, but you can't simply close that yourself, "retorts the gym coach.

Watch me, baby.

Several hours later, after the orthopedist gave me the thumbs up on my home-done wound closure, I proudly, and stiff-leggedly went limping back to the computer lab.

I saw Nurse No Neck.

"How many stitches?" she wanted to know.

"None, he said I had taken care of it. What I waste of 5 bucks for a co-pay."

I realize that wasn't really worth a blog post or a story but I said I was going to write about it, so I figured its better to keep your word that fail people over and over and over again. Not that anyone was waiting at the edge of their seat for that crappy tale of a cut knee.

No connection to music. No connection to Apes. It would be several months later, in October when we would hit the road again.

I can't even remember anything that happened on that trip.

I'll go look at the dates. I am sure something happpened. Something always happens.

Time to begin again

2008-01-13T13:07:00.001-05:00

I am going to start writing again. I am going to be writing often. Ape life never stops but I had been keeping an anonymous secret blog since early January and devoted quite a bit of time to it. It was a blog that I have been needing to write for quite some time. I had been wanting to incorporate elements of the secret blog into this one but I got the stop/block warning from my crew. So I went under.

Now, its not springtime. I usually associate springtime with feelings-- the only feelings that I allow myself. Not anymore. I am a female AND I play music. I can still have feelings. My feelings right now are that WE HAVE A GREAT FUCKING RECORD COMING OUT AND I AM EXCITED!

WE ARE GOING TO START TOURING AGAIN AND I AM EXCITED! My name is Amanda, and I play organ/keyboards for this band called Apes. We are based in Washington, DC and we have been together officially since 1999. I have been playing music with two of these fools since I was 15. Weee. At this moment, I am attempting to train one of them to refrain from crazy screaming tirades while we are practicing. I don't like being yelled at. In exchange for his efforts, I am practicing. Welcome to my world.

Right now, I'm hungry.

Catch up with Poison

2007-08-20T12:44:00.000-05:00

The last time that I wrote anything about Ape Life or lack of Ape life was just after our arrival home from the Springtime SXSW tour 2007. I had just arrived home to a very old car that needed major repairs. The cost of the repairs inspired that old familiar terror of having no money for food, shelter, transportation.

Within an hour of posting the blog requesting job offers, I was hired as a middle school computer technology teacher for a Montgomery County, MD middle school. It would prove to be one of the more interesting/entertaining work experiences that I have had. I knew I had picked a winner, when on the first day, the kids tried to poison me—not once, but twice. I'm sure they didn't mean to, not really.

I taught 5 classes a day. My first period was an advanced computer applications class for 8th graders. These students were highly conscientious and studious. They were self-directed and after my first class, I felt confident that I had made the right decision in coming to work in a place where most of the kids looked much bigger and older than me. 2nd period was free. Great. I could take a walk, get coffee across the street, use the gym in the school's basement, work on my personal creative endeavors. At the end of this free time, the bell rang and I stood out in the hall to welcome my third period. I was only slightly alarmed by the apparent disregard that a few of these kids obviously had for any instruction or authority. When I launched into my little introduction speech,"Hi! My name is Ms. Kleinman but you can call me Miss K. I used to be a full time teacher but now I am in a rock band. You can find more information about my band at www.theapes.com....."....most of the kids had tuned into online hip- hop videos, YouTube, Ebay, and computer games. Ahem. This class took a little work and a lot of love, but eventually, I did get almost everyone to listen, work, and learn, whilst having a good deal of fun.

5th period was a 7th grade class designed to teach kids about college. The lessons were scripted based on a text and a workbook. The text was boring as hell. I was able to captivate my little audience by being a rebel within the system but still teaching every objective in the curriculum. I made up weird web searches and had the kids hunt down odd facts about University Life and let them make animated powerpoints telling the class about what major they might choose in college. The kids were mostly quite sweet and very respectful.

By 6th period, I was beginning to relax, even though I had been warned over and over about the challenges that were going to walk through that door. The bell rang. I stood out in the hall as 5th period left. I waited and waited. Eventually, one boy in leg-braces scooted in and the bell rang. I asked my lone student where the rest of the class was. He said that they were on their way. Over the next 15 minutes, a wide variety of scantily clad and highly sporty 8th grade students waltzed in. They had no interest in the little pieces of paper I distributed that read, "Tardiness not Tolerated". This class wasn't even interested in the computer. They wanted to fight amongst each other. They wanted to throw papers, books and monitors. They wanted to dump soda on computer keyboards and CPU's. They wanted to show little miss long term substitute teacher that they were 100% and completely in charge.

I was not exactly sure whether to (a)ignore them and teach anyway, (b) micro manage (which would have been impossible), or (c) call for back-up. I figured I couldn't call for help on day one. I would NEVER earn respect if I gave up that easily. I used a weak combination of large group teaching while standing on a chair and trying to micro- manage from the front of the room. This was not in any way effective. I never lost control or raised my voice. In fact, I continued to smile while wondering what the hell I was going to do.

When the bell rang, the kids ran out of the room. I walked over to my desk and started to drink from my cup of water. For some reason, I looked inside the cup. There was a clear glob of hand sanitizer floating in it. Jesus. Thank god I looked in it. Those little pieces of crap. I was dumbfounded and horrified. I was so horrified that I had to reach for another beverage to ease the pain. I grabbed the can of warm diet coke from my desk and poured it down my throat. Dumb. Really really dumb. I got a nice swallow of diet coke and Purell.

My 7th period was already filing in. It was a 6th grade typing class—they were totally self-directed. I didn't even take role. I called the office and asked someone to cover my class so I could go to the nurse. The secretary couldn't hear me so I had to shout and all the kids looked at me like I was crazy. My throat was burning by that time and the humiliation of the scene was only making matters worse.

A very nice lady appeared in the door a few minutes later (it was the same secretary from the office) and monitered my class while I went to the school health room for the first time in 16 years. I got to call poison control center number located on the back of the Mr. Yuck sticker. The poison control call center informed me that the accidental ingestion of hand sanitizer is very common and I shouldn't worry unless I had consumed more than 1 bottle. I had not.
Her advice--Drink lots of water.

I felt like an ass.

I had to go back for day 2.

When the vice principal came to my room at the begining of 6th period, I felt sick to my stomach. They were going to hate me now. He stood at the front of the room and told the kids someone was going to be charged with attempted murder if the offender didn't step forward. I was mortified. The kids were given the opportunity to rat someone out on paper. They ALL had to write letters explaining exactly what they were doing for the entire 6th period, the day before.

At the end of class, the Vice Principal left first. The rest of the kids gathered round me.

"Are you okay?" That's horrible! Who would do such a thing? Are you going to press charges? Are you going to press charges? Will there be an investigation?"

They knew those big words well. I sensed this hadn't been the first time an event like this had occurred.

I told them I wouldn't press charges if they got their shit together real quick. I don't know exactly why that was a magic statement but for much of the rest of the semester, I was a highly favored teacher in that middle school. I was visited before school, during lunch, after school. I told stories. We looked at websites together. I definitely taught the required applications and came up with some great creative projects for the kids to do, but we still had a blast together. I miss them something awful.

On my last day, the administrators asked if I was interested in returning to teaching full time. They offered letters of recommendations and choice positions in the county.

Nope.

Peace.

Next entry- Summer Camp 2007 and the running accident.

Riding the waves

2007-03-27T09:36:00.000-05:00

Lord have mercy.

I wonder if god dislikes musicians and artists. Maybe god dislikes old cars.

Apes arrived home from tour this past Friday night. Yesterday (Monday) morning, I took my personal driving vehicle, a 1994 Toyota Corolla, to be emissions tested. The car failed its first test back in January and it had to be re-tested. I had hoped that after an oil change, and a pre-test high speed drive, the exhaust system would be refreshed, just enough to pass. This was not the case. When the nice man returned my vehicle to me after doing weird things to it, the pretty data lines on the emissions report indicated that the car was seeping too many dirty, dirty gases into our already tortured air. A mechanic was going to have to explore the innards of my Toyota.

My responsible and employed brother convinced me to drop the car at a gas station by his house and crash at his place for the night. At 8:00 am this morning, I get the call. The little Toyota needs a new catalytic converter, a left rear tire, and an alignment. This is not a surprise. The car has over 185,000 miles on it. However, with the price of repairs estimated at $1050.00, I have a real problem.

My current financial status is in the poor range. Every time I have had a major expense over the last seven years that I haven't had funds to cover, I charged it to Discover. I know this is stupid. I never felt like I had many other options. Well, the option always has been to get a real job. I never exercised this option. Bands and tours and job...they just don't work together.

Anyway, after I hang up with the mechanic, I have a panic attack. I don't have $1,000. I don't even have a credit card with room for more debt. My parents have been helping me with my rent payments since I was in the hospital. I have medical bills from Johns Hopkins that are almost as bad as my credit card bill.

I never exactly know how to proceed in high stress situations so I defer to my old standby behavior. I call home. My dad answers. He was asleep. He yells at me. I hang up. I email my mom at work. She calls me back and tells me I have to go back to teaching. I have to get a job. I have to get a real job-- the kind that gives you health insurance, paid vacations, and a bi-weekly check. These jobs don't accommodate tour schedules. They don't let organ players go when its time to go. The children need their teacher unless their teacher is going to have a baby, or is going to have surgery. My parents are not wealthy people. They have their own problems. They can't save me. I don't expect them to save me. I just want them to make it all better.

The panic attack doesn't exactly recede. The nausea and the sense of imminent death actually increases.

Within minutes, I'm on the phone with a middle school in Rockville that needs a computer teacher from April 20 till the end of the school year. That's the first step out of the hole. And I have already secured the next step-- I will teach computers at a private school for most of the summer.

But good golly miss molly, I might be back in the jail known as 'school' as of this September.

If you have the power, use our music now. Put it in your movies. Put it in your commericials. Use it in your television shows. You won't be disappointed! Your viewers will rock. Your listeners will listen. Your customers will buy.

Dream big! Dream really big! And as the waves come in, ride them.

Believe me. I'm a teacher. I know what I'm talking about.

And repeat my motto:

Always trust Kleiny.

Art Garage, SC, and the long drive home

2007-03-24T00:06:00.000-05:00

Our final show of the tour is at the Art Garage in Columbia, SC. We played here last October with The Slits. The venue is pretty cool as they have sleeping quarters for the bands. The folks who run it, Jonathan and Amy, go out of their way to make sure everything is taken care of. There are plenty of drinks, awesome food, and clean beds. Done. There is nothing else left to desire.

At our first gas stop after Birmingham, a man approaches the van and asks what part of Maryland we are from. We tell him we are from DC. He shares that he used to live in Laurel, MD but he thinks living in Alabama is much better. I express how much friendlier Southern people are compared to Washingtonians. He replies back, “I don’t care about the heart or the love. I like the price of houses and the money!” Amen, brother. Amen.

Since I’m kind of sick of writing by now, I’ll try to keep this part brief. There are opening bands. We set up. We change clothes. I take a sip of Dickels Whiskey. Why not? It’s our last show. We play to some very energetic and appreciative people. Jeff’s high hat finally completely falls apart. We all hang out afterward.

In the morning we return to El Burrito, owned by Susie, who generously fed all of us for free on our last tour. She is out of town but has left instructions with her staff to feed the Apes for free. How cool is that?

While we are sitting, eating on the patio, I listen to a woman talking at the table next to ours.

“You know how many times I’ve been hit in the head by a pine cone? I hate squirrels!”

We leave a tip, pee, and leave.

As always, the final drive home starts out okay. I drive the first shift until I’m told to stop at South of the Border, the bizarre tourist attraction at the South Carolina/North Carolina border. It’s a collection of an old weird amusement park, souvenir shops, bad restaurants, and freaky animal statues. We have to take pictures with the animal statues. My favorite shot is Jeff with his head between a gorilla’s legs. The idea is that Jeff’s head are Gorilla Testicles.

And as always, after the second gas stop, Jeff gets behind the wheel his race against himself.

“I forget how to drive on the highway,” says Jeff as he gets behind the wheel, to do his infamous final drive home. “Just go to sleep and we’ll all wake up in heaven. Together. We can jam for all eternity. Get those kinks out.”

I wonder what heaven would be for The Apes. It doesn’t quite matter. We are already here.

Monday off, Tuesday Baton Rouge

2007-03-24T00:04:00.000-05:00

Its Monday and there is no show tonight. We are going to drive most of the way to Baton Rouge, the location of the Tuesday night show. We have planned to pick a cheap motel about two hours away from Baton Rouge. This will be our first motel stay of this tour and we are hoping to find a television with proper computer inputs. Jeff has been storing the movie, Borat, on his computer this whole time.

We decide to stop around 7:30 pm. We pull off the highway after passing an exit sign listing several motel choices. Little did we know at that moment, we were entering historic Natchitoches, LA. After lots of nightly rate discussion with various front desk clerks, we opt for the Comfort Inn. They offer a AAA discount and give us a room with two double beds for about 60 bucks after taxes. We don’t even have to sneak people in.

Our dreams are quickly dashed when we discover, well, you guessed it. The television has the wrong inputs. Jeff is devastated but the rest of us are not discouraged. We are not accustomed to wall sized movie screens in our basement residences. We will happily watch this movie from the laptop computer screen and we will laugh! HA HA HA!

After an elaborate dinner at the Burger King across the highway, Erick and I decide to explore this historic town. We are not ready to lay in bed for the evening. We drive about 4 miles down the main road and pass a body of water on the left. I want to stop there but its too dark to see if there is a shore side path for walking. Next we pass Northern Lousiana State University. Naturally, Erick wants to pull over there and walk around campus. I’m not interested. It looks pretty deserted. Maybe its Spring Break. We continue driving and I follow signs for the historic district. The only thing we find is a 24 hour Super Walmart. This will have to do. I’m certain that most of the local folks are probably here if they are still awake.

We separate and wander alone for a while before eventually regrouping in the hard liquor isle. We gasp at the very low prices for some very typically more expensive whiskeys. I egg Erick on and try to get him to buy a bottle. I have no intention of drinking, I just feel like bugging him. He is not interested. Apparently, he got wasted at the house parties in Denton. I had no idea.

Back at the Comfort Inn, Breck and Jeff are relaxing and having some personal computer time. They are both hunched over, tap tap tapping when we talk in. And then finally, finally, Jeff sets up for the official band viewing of “Borat”. I have already seen it in the theatre but I still laugh just as hard. When the movie is over, it’s only 1:00 am, but everyone seems like they are going to sleep. I can barely keep my eyes open. The motel bed finally does the trick and I sleep till Jeff’s watch alarm clock goes off at 9:30 am.

I know the motel has free breakfast until 10:00 am. I almost never eat normal breakfast food but I leave the room in search of free coffee. I sit down in the mini-kitchen and immediately, an elderly couple starts chatting with me about their travels. They are retired Navy people and firefighters. They have been in Texas visiting their grandchildren and are slowly meandering back to their home in Lake County, Michigan. After about 8 minutes, I am shown pictures of the daughter-in-law and grandchildren. They are all simply beautiful. Our conversational exchange dies quickly when I tell them why I’m on the road.

After we check out, we go back to the historic district in search of food and coffee. Their coffee shop is a bust but Breck wants waffle house anyway. We had seen at least 10 Waffle Houses on the highway yesterday so I figure we inevitably pass one. We drive for 2 hours with not one sign of a Waffle House. I can’t believe it. When we finally give up, Erick and I end up at a Chinese Buffet. Breck and Jeff get pizza. More leftovers to stink up the van.

We get to Baton Rouge at about 5pm. The weather continues to be absolutely perfect. We park near the university. Erick and I walk around a lake for close to 90 minutes. There are a ton of people out exercising. I am reminded that this is a normal work day for most people. When we drive over to the Spanish Moon, fellow DC band, Antelope, have already arrived. We know these guys from home and are pretty excited to play with them tonight. They are at the beginning of a 6 week tour. I am thankful we are headed home now only because I’m still scarred from 6 week tour with Liars last summer. We are warmly greeted by promoter Aaron, and sound man Jeff, who point out that this is our third stop here this year. While they anticipate this will bring a large crowd for the evening, I suspect it will not. I am right. In the dressing room, we find a large bottle of Jack Daniels with “Apes” written on it. There are many ways to ease the pain of the empty rooms.

We are having minor concerns about finding a decent shelter for the evening. Our only Baton Rouge friend, Carlee, has just moved to Austin. I offer to book a Motel 6 and pay for it myself but nobody is interested. They would rather I ask for a place to stay during our set. That night we are also playing with Akron, Ohio band “Six Part Seven”. We know many of the same people and share benevolent stories about tours past.

Antelope play first and I enjoy them quite a bit. My favorite song is called, “Wandering Ghost.” I change clothes during the middle of Six Part Seven’s set. I can barely keep my eyes open. For some dumb reason, I pound two diet cokes and a red bull. Stupid, Kleiny! Why so stupid?!

Our set goes smoothly. Afterward, Justin from Antelope, offers to share their room at the Extended Stay America. I am really grateful but we don’t want to infringe upon their space with our smells. Thankfully, we are approached my friendly band man, Fred Weaver. He suggests we stay at the house he shares with his father. I immediately think “clean shower” anytime we go to the home of a parent.

We follow Fred home. Jeff still sleeps in the van even though there are enough bedrooms and futons for everyone. I sleep on the floor of a room filled floor- to- ceiling with music books and magazines. I doze off reading an issue of Chunklet from 1999. 1999. Apes year 1. We were so young, so hopeful, so full of dreams.

The next morning we plan to meet Antelope at a local café. Fred joins us and we dine in style. After a quick pit stop at the local health food store to re-stock (Breck needs a Kombucha), we say goodbye to our friends from home.

The drive to Birmingham seems incredibly long to me. I am really quite sick of listening to the same 20 songs on my ghetto plastic MP3 player while I drive. Instead I make up stories in my head. There is more breathing to contemplate and brain journeys to take.

We are excited to arrive at the Bottletree and are warmly greeted by the staff. This is easily the nicest, most band-oriented club in the country. After we load in and order food, I get online. I need to upload some blogs. I haven’t uploaded anything since the first day. Naturally I get distracted while waiting for blogger to load. That site is hideously slow. I never do it. After we eat, we talk to our super friend and fan, Chris, who is now working the door.

I approach Chris to say hi. He tells me how excited he is for the show tonight. He also tells me that after our last show, he listened to Baba’s Mountain (our last record) for the entire month. He told me that he thought he heard the voices in the beginning of the record calling, “Chris! Chris!” He is right.

Also, we see Lee, our dedicated super-friend, who has driven four hours to be with us tonight.

The opening band, Vesper, kicks ass. I dance during their whole set. The next band was unexpectedly switched at the last minute. We were supposed to play with Two Ton Boa from Portland but their drummer was ill. 31 Knots, also from Portland, arrived just in time to take their place.

When we play our set, there is a serious amount of love and energy in the house. We feel it and do our best to put out some high energy music in return. We even do an encore and I think its our first this tour. When we are done, I ask from stage for someone to take us home with them in exchange for an early morning kitchen and bathroom cleaning. We get several sincere offers. We opt to stay with one of the club employees who lives in a nearby loft. He has secure underground parking so Vannie will be safe.

We follow him back to his building and shuffle in with our gear. Jonathan, our host, happens to be a brilliant photographer and while we settle in, we admire a bunch of his work. He asks about shooting us in the morning. I hesitate but Breck is into it.

Breck and I wake up first. Jonathan and Breck go off to the park to take pictures. I stay behind to draw a self-portrait. Jonathan is also doing a series of shots of people holding self-portraits and I have agreed to this type of picture. After the drawing is complete, I wander off alone to find coffee. I am always surprised by how friendly people are. Everyone I pass on the streets of downtown Birmingham goes out of their way to smile and say hello. I eventually arrive at Safari Coffee and I’m greeted by a lovely South African gentlemen. He describes for me, the origin of the Bundi roast I am about to consume. The coffee is great. I consider buying a pound to take home but remember Jeff’s announcement that we are losing money on this tour. There will be no payout at the end.

When I get back to the loft, everyone is there. I re-do my self portrait drawing. The first one looked frog-like but the second one is okay. We take a few photos and head out.

Sunday leaving Austin

2007-03-23T23:59:00.000-05:00

On Sunday morning I wake up at 9:30 am. Several events take place in the next few hours that most humans would consider somewhat disturbing. If I ever write the unedited Apes story, I will remember to write about Sunday morning. But for immediate practical purposes, and the family nature of this story, I’m going to omit all of it. I will share this. Around 11 am, I clean Adam’s kitchen.

It is a long standing Apes tradition that our last meal in Austin be at the Star Seeds Café by I-35. Today would be no different. Adam and his roommate Erick join us for our final meal. We all pile in the van and head over. I am not totally listening to Adam as he gives me directions. When I miss the first turn, I throw the van in reverse and go all the way back down the one way street the wrong way. I don’t feel that I have put anyone in danger. I watch the mirrors carefully.

At the café, we sit at a corner table. I ask each person what they are ordering. There are no surprises. Erick orders migas. He always does. A few minutes into the meal, Kevin Guthrie calls. He wants to drive with us to Denton, TX. He needs a break from his band. We tell him that its fine and he meets us at the Star Seeds. After breakfast, I go outside on their porch to stretch my legs, and I see my friends Josh and Evan, in a rental car on the corner. I run over to say goodbye but I will see Evan in Denton. He is riding home with Chicago band ‘Chin Up, Chin Up,’ and they are also playing tonight in Denton. We thank Adam and Erick for the extreme generosity and I give Adam my leftovers. There is so little the Apes can do to show appreciation. Leave food and a clean kitchen.

Before we leave town, we make a final stop at Whole Foods to say goodbye to Michelle. I run into Mary Timony, a friend from home and fellow musician. More DC crew representin’! We had seen her van several times the day before. Each time we wanted to leave a note for her on the windshield but somehow never had a pen. I carry a giant backpack full of shit, everywhere I go, and yet, no pen.

On the drive out, we stop at Guitar Center and a discount book store, both per Jeff’s requests. Jeff needs a chain for his high hat and more cheap books to read. Guitar center has no such chains. Jeff rejects the offer to special order the part.

We hit a massive backup in the exodus from Austin. The congestion easily adds an extra hour or more to the length of travel. The boys, with Kevin, are packed sardine style in the back, with Erick sitting on the luggage between the captain’s chairs. When I take a quick look behind me, all of their heads are flopping to the right, like little droopy babies.

We are playing another house show and I believe that the show is supposed to start early to accommodate another later starting house show in town. When we arrive, Monotonix are already there. This is our last show with them and of course, I’m sorry to see us part ways. The bonding between us was solid and brother/sisterhoods have been formed. We see Meggie, a super fan, whose band is going to play first tonight. We also meet Jonah, the promoter and primary renter of the house where the show is being held. Jonah hops in the van with us and takes us to Taco Cabana for dinner. Over dinner, we ask Jonah about holding house shows. He tells us that he hasn’t really gotten any complaints from neighbors as nothing could compete with the noise of the trains. He lives directly across the street from railroad tracks. Trains go screaming by about every 30 minutes to an hour.

When we get back, Monotonix are starting to set up. They offer us the opportunity to play before them but Jeff needs time to change his drum heads. When they are ready to start, Yanathan, the guitarist starts screaming, “SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” He does this most nights. I must admit that I’m not crazy about angry loud voices. Call me a pussy. I am one.

I vacate the basement. Ran is about to set his cymbals on fire. My dislike of fire AND basements is enough to prompt this hasty departure.

When Monotonix emerge from the basement, they are pouring with sweat. I go in to survey the damage. The floor is wet. There is trash everywhere. A trash can is laying on its side. The air smells of burning plastic. Jonah sweeps up and we proceed to set up. When we are about ready to play, the kids gather back in the basement. They are a very supportive and rowdy bunch. These are my favorite types of audiences. It’s totally motivating and encourages us to basically, rock the fuck out! As soon as we’re done, a long-haired blonde lad approaches me. He states stoically, “That was the best show I ever seen. I have been looking forward to this for two weeks.” Thanks, Aaron. Seriously, dude. Thank you.

When we are done, I get a text message from Evan. They have arrived at Rubber Gloves, the club down the road. They are running very late and I change clothes quickly to run over there. Erick and Breck join Jonah and some of the others to go check out the Norwegian metal band playing at the other house. I take the van alone.

When I get to Rubber Gloves, I immediately see Evan. It’s not hard to find him as the room is pretty empty but for a few scattered youth. I am so glad we played at Jonah’s house. I have had a few very dark nights at Rubber Gloves. I remember going outside alone and sitting near the train tracks after we played to 10 people. I remember staring up at the sky and the stars and feeling completely and utterly dead. I think that feeling started during our set when Paul, our first singer, started yelling at a kid in the audience to shut up and stop talking. I think he said something to the effect that since we had driven hundred miles to be in Denton that night, the least they could do was shut up and pay attention. The kid was a huge fan and was only talking to express how excited he was about the show. Paul apologized later but that was an extremely unpleasant display. It made me question how much longer I could keep going on the path that we had carved out for ourselves. But that is in the past. And right now, I’m here with my friend. Evan and I watch The Narrator play and get a drink when they’re done. It’s good to replace a dark memory with a positive one.

Erick and a local guy appear at Rubber Gloves around 2:00 am. They escort me over to the other house show. I can’t believe it’s a Sunday night, and at 2:00 am, there are still people out partying.

Eventually we make our way back to Jonah’s house where we are staying with Monotonix. The Apes have claimed Jonah’s bedroom. Erick gets good and comfy in the closet.

The next day, both bands venture to the Denton town square for food and coffee before parting ways. Ami and I have a excellent bonding conversation over coffee. We discuss marriage, soccer, the state of America, the state of Israel, and finally we learn that we have something unique in common. We both love kids with mental retardation.

Erick and I jet off to the health food store/café a few blocks away and it is there that we bid Monotonix farewell and good luck on their long tour ahead. We also run into a few of the show goers from the night before. I am shocked when I met one guy’s baby. I forget that young people can and do have children.

After an hour of used book store wanderings, we get in the book-loaded van.

Saturday in Austin

2007-03-23T23:56:00.000-05:00

Saturday is supposed to be the day of rest. We decide to cancel our final SxSW show. Jeff’s hands are a mess of open, bloody wounds, and he needs several drum parts.

Everyone wants to go to the colossal flagship Austin Whole Foods for breakfast. After eating and observing very tall goth kids in the parking lot, we discuss the plan for our free day. We decide to split up. Erick and I will go downtown and check out a bunch of free shows on the other side of the highway. Jeff and Breck want to run errands and relax. Our first stop is a record store hosting the Fuck by Fuck You festival. We want to see our Dutch friends, zZz, play. When we arrive, Genghis Tron, are already playing. We hear music coming from lots of directions and wander off to see what else is going on. There are several free show happening in the backs of bars, in little warehouses, on patios. The weather is beautiful and my positive vibe continues. We watch friends Shelshag and Green Milk from the Planet Orange. Green Milk had blown us away at our label showcase the night before. We are also big fans of Shelshag.

Divya meets us around 5 pm. We get a drink and we head back downtown. Erick is slowly getting annoyed. He hates my necklace. It’s too hippy. I’m wearing too much red. I look like some crazy girl walking down the street. He’s probably hungry and I plan to split the first chance I get. Erick and Divya want to go to the Insound party at Club D’ville. We walk over and stand in line for a minute. Erick makes one more remark and I just walk away. I run into my friend, Greg Ashley, on the street. He is with our label mate, Brian Glaze, who is about to play at Jaime’s Spanish Restaurant. Greg and I decide to get a drink. Back in 2004, we had done a month long tour with his band, The Gris Gris, after SxSW.

Greg gets a beer and I get a shot of tequila. We sit outside drinking and chatting till Brian Glaze starts. I watch the first few songs but then I see Erick coming. I take off. My friends Josh and Evan, of the band Revival, are playing down the street at 7 pm, and I want to see them.

There are actually several friends from DC in the bar and it’s pretty awesome to be with everyone. I sit on the floor while Revival play and silently sing along to all of their songs. After Revival, I talk to friends from another band from home, Shortstack. I am devastated to learn that they have cancelled their entire US tour because of a very ill family member. I sit on the floor with my friend, Adrian, and we watch Vandaveer, play his set.

When the show is over, we all go get a slice of pizza and stand on the street eating and talking. Then I just wander off alone again. I see the Monotonix guys in line at a food vendor and then I see Matthew Johnson. Only moments later, Erick finds me. Divya is going to take us back to Adam’s to get the van. I promise him we can come back downtown then and do more ‘business’. By the time we get to Adam’s, I’m wrecked. I don’t want to go back out. My broken toe is swollen and burning. I just want to elevate my foot. He is totally insatiable. He keeps rambling about some Komodo party that Michelle was going to. I make arrangements for him to get a ride home with Adam and I offer to drop him off back in the city. During the 10 minute drop off drive, he riddles me with guilt about the importance of teamwork. He insists we get so much more done when we are together. He wins again. We have to meet Michelle at some club called Parrish 2 and no one can tell us exactly where it is. The streets are absolutely mobbed with people because of the addition of the St. Patrick’s Day partiers. We don’t find Michelle until she comes outside and stands on the sidewalk. We end up sitting and talking there for about 45 minutes. We are waiting for the guys in Akimbo. I’m glad I came along because this is my first chance to actually talk to Michelle. But I’m also beginning to see that if we make it to this party at all, it won’t be for at least another hour. Luckily, Erick is in agreement. We give Michelle a few demo CD’s and take off. Finally, by 1:00 am, we are home. We are lulled to sleep by the sounds of Jeff and Breck snorting cocaine off the tits of strippers. Yeah right.

Thursday in Austin

2007-03-23T23:53:00.000-05:00

I sleep like shit.

Jeff and I are sharing an L-shaped couch. Breck is sleeping on the loveseat. Erick is sleeping on the bare cement floor next to Adam’s room. He wants to sleep as far away from us as possible, even if it means snuggling with concrete.

My sleeping pills aren’t working as well as they did in the beginning. I’m also starting to drink tea later in the day again. Dumb. Don’t be dumb, Kleiny. Don’t do it. BREAK THE CYCLE!

We shower and head over to the Wheatsville Food Co-op for some fine hippie grub before our first SXSW show at the Hole in the Wall. After we make our purchases, we go outside to eat. Jeff and Breck sit on a bench. Erick and I share a table with a girl already sitting. I watch Jeff’s breakfast burrito fall apart. There is salsa all over the bench, the ground, and on his little plate. Out comes my camera. Snap! Snap! Ha Ha!

We drive over to Hole in the Wall. I park in the alley right next to the bar and hope that no one asks me to move the van. Monotonix and Kevin Guthrie are already inside. There is a screaming blond girl on stage.

I head to the rear of the venue and discover a patio bar out back. Kevin sits with me outside and we converse. He tells me stories from the time in his life when he was actively a stand-up comedian. I imagine its much more challenging to be a comedian that a musician. There is no music to hind behind. It’s just you and your voice and the faces of your audience, and either the sounds of their laughter, or the sounds of their jeers. The scariest sound of all is the sound of their silence.

Kevin tells me a bunch of his jokes. I make cracks back at him. The sun feels great and the weather couldn’t be more perfect. I go inside to watch a band called, “The Health.” I draw a picture of their drummer, BJ, while they play.

When Monotonix go on, they set up their equipment on the floor and gather the audience to stand on the stage. The next 45 minutes is utter chaos. Ami is rolling around in the trash can. Ran does a crazy drum solo. Ami is climbing on the bar. Yanathan plays guitar laying on his back. Ami is taping someone’s mouth closed. Ami drinks beer from a shoe. I enjoy their songs and the combination is very entertaining.

After clean-up, it’s our turn. I have pondering topics for the pre-show chat. What I planned was lost immediately. For some reason, I tell a horrible pedophile joke. Then I sing a song from “Evita”. I also ramble some other nonsense. Without the voice changer, this speech would be pretty pathetic. By the time we start to play, there is a great crowd of new people that have arrived. They seem to be genuinely into the music.

When we finish, our friend, Divya, gives me a ride downtown and I meet a few friends for a pre-dinner snack. I have been invited to a State Club dinner. I’m not exactly sure what this means except that I have been told that the attendees are the most important people in the music business—owners of major labels, licensing attorneys, and some very special venture capitalists. I was also told that other guests would include Bob Dylan, and guys from Talking Heads. Again, this is a very un-Apes like event, and I’m going alone.

The dinner itself is being held at a steak restaurant on 6^th Avenue. When we arrive, we are lead upstairs to a private room with one very long table running the length of one side of the room. I sit with my friends but I see a few other people I know. Its not really awkward, as I thought it may have been. I have no problem talking to friends or strangers. I just wish I had name tags for everyone who was at the dinner. I met several people and don’t know for sure if any Talking Heads were there. I think Bob Dylan missed his plane. After dinner, I go with this group to a few of the showcases. We end up seeing the entire set of Dengue Fever at Emo’s.

My band mates are also at Emo’s. It feels odd that I don’t leave the venue with them. I end up going back to the bar at the Hilton and sip very expensive Bourbons with my friend. We engage in very stimulating conversation. When I am offered lodging for the evening, I accept.

At 1:00 am, I get a text message. One of my best friends, Evan, just arrived in town. He had gotten an unexpected ride to Austin with band friends from Chicago (where he now lives). This is an expected treat because we don’t see each other often. Wahooooo!!! The fun will continue tomorrow.

Friday in Austin

2007-03-23T23:49:00.000-05:00

You’d think a clean comfortable bed in a quiet room at the Hilton would ease ‘ol crazy brain to sleep. Not me! Not this nut job! I was too tense about getting back to Adam’s house in the morning. Arrangements for my transportation had been made the night before but the mode of transportation was making me tense as well.

I had to be in the Hilton lobby at 9:00 am, as that was the time that the limousine would be picking me up. Yes, I did say limousine. I needed a ride to a place that was 2 miles away and I had 2 hours in a chauffeured limo to get there. When the limo pulled up, I rushed over to it and jumped in. The transition from 87 Ford Econoline Conversion Van to limousine is not a smooth one but I quickly became friends with the driver. Since I had two hours allotted for a 30 minute ride, I asked him to take me to Whole Foods for breakfast. Next, I asked for the river. I wanted water.

Jason, the driver, and I walked around the nature path discussing every topic imaginable. I saw beautiful birds and 4 red-eared sliders (turtles). He dropped me back at Adam’s around 10:30 am. The door was unlocked and everyone was sleeping. The living room smelled vaguely of drummer sweat and dog fart. I had just taken a photo of the limo sitting adjacent to Vannie (our van).

Today we had two shows. We were scheduled to play a party for KVRX radio station and we were also playing the showcase for our booking agent, Michelle of Panache Booking, later that night. The KVRX party was being held at a place called The Indepedence Brewery located quite a distance from the downtown area. Many of the roads leading to the Brewery were so new that Candace (the computer) and our GPS didn’t identify them.

The female computer voice repeated herself several times. “Off route. Return to route.” I know, Candace! I know! Relax! Sometimes you just have to take a chance! Jeff showed me on his screen that we were floating in space.

It was an odd afternoon but nonetheless pleasurable. By the time we were finished, we had to drive straight downtown to load into the Flamingo Cantina. Due to numerous road closures and imprecise directions, it took a damn long time to make our way into the alley behind the Cantina to unload. I had to promise the police officer blocking the street that I would take only 10 minutes to unload and leave the premises.

Jeff and Breck decided to go back to Adam’s after load-in. Erick and I wanted to stay downtown amidst the chaos. We wandered for a while and eventually made our way to Mekong River for an Asian dinner. Erick firmly believes that he plays best with Asain food in his stomach. Hey, whatever it takes. We waited 45 minutes for our dinner. I watched several patrons become enraged and demand either food or money. I guess you can’t let people get too hungry or they lose their minds. Duh.

We headed back to the club around 9 pm. I started to get excited because I was hoping to see many loved ones at this show. The bands began and there was not one disappointment.

After our set, we hung out with friends and watched the other bands. When we were leaving, Josh and Evan decided to come with us. It seemed like everyone wanted to keep partying, even though it was really late. Well, Erick was the most determined to keep partying. I think that he thinks he is going to miss out on something if he goes to bed before 5 am. I like to stay out, too, but I have limits. By the time we dropped Jeff and Breck off, Erick has planned to go right back to the Flamingo Cantina. He wanted to pick up Michelle so she could lead us to the hottest party in Austin. I had already changed my mind. I just wanted to chill with Evan and Josh, quietly, maybe at their motel. Erick was relentless.

“Kleiny. We are going back out. How often are we all together in Austin? Hunh? Hunh? Don’t be lame, Kleiny! Don’t be lame! Lame! Kleiny! Kleiny! Come on, Kleiny!” I’m never sure if he thinks that saying my name 100 times will finally change my mind. But I’m weak. Erick never gives up till he gets his way or you disappear. Then the phone calls start.

I had already given up. We were already back in the van going to retrieve Michelle. She had received word about some party on a bridge. Did they say Hansen was supposed to play?

When we finally arrived at the bridge, there was, in fact, a band playing. It was a punk band from Milwaukee. Despite the sleep deprivation that was beginning to accumulate, I was dancing and having fun. But my buddy Josh tuckered out. When he announced he was going to start walking home, I insisted we all drive back together. It was time. We did stay long enough to greet former tour mates, zZz, from the Netherlands. They were still the tallest dudes we’d ever played with. When I hugged Bjorni, I think he wanted to pick me up but I clenched those little feet on the ground. We said our farewells at 4:30 am.