Yo homeys! Dani here again from the next exciting installment of my tour
diary, carefully composed between the final bouts of My Mexican Vengeance,
several Walmart stops and many weird experiences born of moving from one
place to the other in swift succession.

We left off last time adrift in the tranquil bliss of budget Motel
car-parks. The next day finds us in Seattle where I abscond early to visit
my friend Jack Matisse who tattoos at Apocalypse on Olive Way. The next
three hours find me in a chair chatting and listening to seminal hardcore
punk while the face of Boris Karloff as the Universal Pictures Mummy is
etched upon my inner left arm ( he joins an eerie  parade that includes both
The Phantom and The Bride that Jack has done for me before). And the end
result is fab, almost like a photo in spite of the short time-frame. And
before i catch a late taxi back, i am given a doll of myself in a cool glass
case that Jack remembers a girl left for me way back when. I arrive back at
the Showbox just in the nick of time for sound check because of the heavy
traffic, then it's a few interviews including a big one with my dinner, but
because of the recent fast I've undertaken to beat the shits, I'm stuffed
out on half a Caesar salad. In a Hard Rock Cafe in Seattle nonetheless!
Hardly rock 'n' roll.

The actual show tonight (in the band's opinion) is the best we've ever
played here and the night is rounded off signing and waxing lyrical back on
the bus.

The next day is in Spokane, in what appears to be theatre district, but is
actually during the afternoon a set for a movie about ghosts. Fortunately at
night the area comes to life with all mixes of people and lots of twinkly
Iights, and tonight's venue is cool despite the annoying elevator which has
a psychopathic will of it's own, fortunately dropping me in sight of the
toilets after shutting down for lack of a passcode. It was first thing in
the morning (midday-ish), having just woken up and gravity making me in need
of a desperate number two (poo). For a moment, standing there with
absolutely nothing I pressed helping my rising panic, I had a fleeting
premonition of firemen prising wide the doors only to find me in swollen,
smelly trousers and a growing pool at my feet. James also has a 'moment'
later when we're sent to the wrong floor and he walks straight out into the
queuing fans.

The rest of the day is pretty relaxed and chilled, dinner is good and the
gig is another blinder, and we leave pretty quickly, as early in the morning
we're due at the Canadian border to parade our crumpled faces. Unfortunately
the last sting in the tail of this nasty little virus i have leaves me with
chronic heartburn and sitting on the bus toilet for two hours as we lumber
through the night, the no-flushing solids written rule painfully intact. 


Entry into Canada is easy enough despite the ever increasing snow, but the
temperature in Vancouver is far warmer than Dallas and Houston actually was.
Today is not a good day for me as I feel really quite poorly, spending most
of the afternoon huddled in the back lounge of the bus watching movies, even
skipping sound check, though not the signing at Scrape Records which follows
shortly thereafter. After all I aim for heroic!

This escapade provides temporary relief as all the fans who queue to get
signatures are really amiable and friendly and we eventually leave with some
great freebies, as the newly-relocated record shop is a heavy metal treasure
trove. Unfortunately the gig doesn't go quite so smoothly, as I'm feeling
even worse than ever before by the time the intro music starts and we have
to cut the set short at 50 minutes and eight songs when I hit a total brick
wall. I look like death felt up. The fans air their disappointment at the
short set but an apology is made, promising recompense next time we hit
Vancouver. I feel really bad about this but admit defeat in the face of
illness. The next day (a travel day on the way to Edmonton) is spent
recuperating in a hotel room with BBC America, a nice long hot shower or two
and a short venture out for steak and shrimp at a Red Lobster with Paul and
Caroline, even forsaking the chance to go snowboarding with Steve and Dr
Paine. I must be Ill!

Fortunately even a five hour sleep in a proper bed can revive the dead, so
it is with renewed vigour that I face the shopping mall the gig is ensconced
within in Edmonton. This place is massive and houses (as far as I've
ventured) an ice skating rink, a huge indoor swimming complex including a
beach and a pirate ship in the midst of a coral reef. Plus some pretty
decent shops wherein I buy a Dexter board game, Caroline a new coat (she
lost her last one in a bar on the first day!) and James $80 worth of Mac
make-up for stage!

The weather is bloody freezing here so the majority of the day is spent in
the warmth of the bus before sound check and the subsequent ' meet us and
weep' we undertake with fans every day of the tour. In truth this is good
fun as we get to meet some really cool people who really want to meet us,
get some stuff signed, take pictures and goof around a little bit with the
band. And some days it's as many as forty people, whilst other times as
tonight it's as intimate as six.

The show itself is another awesome one, with the crowd split at an obtuse
angle into those who can legally drink and those who cannot. It must be this
lack of stimuli that makes the young ones so energetic this evening, the
little scamps are moshing everywhere. Which is always a good sign.

Calgary's show is an altogether different affair, being set on the
university campus it feels like being back at College for the whole day,
which almost makes me get my serial killer kit out of retirement to bag a
few sorority trophies. Because of the weather the turn out is down to around
550, but nevertheless this is one of the best shows of the tour and the
audience more than make up for their size by screaming the place down,
whilst outside the snow continues to gently fall.

The next morning at the ungodly hour of 5 o'clock (does this time even
exist normally?) we re-enter the States, parade before the border staff like
a pack of ghouls, then re-enter dream state ten minutes later. This is
another travel day but we do get 12 hours in a hotel on an industrial estate
in Montana with an empty McDonalds and a couple of sports bars. The hotel is
like an Austrian mountain lodge (or indeed a Montana hunting lodge) with
wooden bears climbing up it's rustic sides and comes complete with a wicked
swimming pool that boasts floating lily pads, a waterside and a rope bridge
which James, Dan and Martin later take advantage of in their underwear. The
highlight of the day is a taxi trip to Walmart which turns into a lengthy
exercise when the drivers take forever turning up. Still a night in an Irish
bar full of eighties jukebox hits and a generous landlord is enough for
anyone not drinking, so I hit the band room at the hotel for a long hot
shower and a couple of Saw movies on cable, whilst those left behind raise
the usual merry Hell.    

On the way back for a midnight bus call, my attention is drawn to three
large white messy patches on the side which I'm informed is eagle shit. My
only thought is that everything in America is big and did it/they have two
big macs for lunch too?

Until next we flop upon the shore of madness like storm-beached jellyfish,
take care and pity us poor fools who wander...

All the best,
Count Backwerdz aka Lord Filth.