EACH ONE TEACH ONE - SPRING 2002 (LEG 1)

Right now I'm back in Brooklyn - writing without notes - so the truth is bound to be stretched a bit. I've got one slipper on, a plate of veggie dumplings in my lap and I'm driven to get this stuff out now b/c its fading fast and I'm sure I've already forgotten most of the humorous moments.

Sat April 20th - Wesleyan University - Zonker Harris Day Festival - Middletown, CT

Holy shit - what just happened?

I don't usually do this but I gotta write this shit down 'cause this show
deserves chronicling.

I gotta be honest and say that I had low expectations for this show 'cause colleges are usually lame and people don't like rock. This was mostly the case at old W.U. but Oneida managed to do great injurious damage to ourselves and a handful of others who chose to listen to us act stupid. The listing for Zonker Harris day did little to reveal the madness contained therein. It looked like there would be a buncha funk bands, maybe a funk metal band, maybe The Moldy Peaches (who ended up bailing to play with Tenacious D - can't blame 'em) and then Oneida. Sure - we could hack it. Absolutely. We've played with death metal bands, ska bands, shitty jazz bands - its all good (wait did I just write that?). But yeah - funk is always good for a couple of laughs and as Bobby pointed out to me yesterday, I'm kind of a hater - that doesn't make me proud but I gotta admit it to myself and move on. Bobby's full of love and so am I, I just love to hate the funk and he just loves to love everything. That's cool. We worked it out later that night (story to come).

Anyway we drove into the quad where we were gonna jam at about 5-ish and there was this totally fucking college funk/jam band goin' at it on stage. Mr. Sax was wailing away, Mr. Fake Carlos Santana was also closing his eyes a lot and making faces. Wankery all. But it gave me lots of pleasure 'cause they meant the hell out of it. So down the quad comes this posse of Oneida-heads who, throughout the course of a long and storied evening, really indulged the hell out of Kid Millions and I gotta thank them all here for it. My new friends Dave, Beth, Jim and a few people who's names I'm forgetting but I think they're gonna forgive me because they saw the state I ended up in by the end of the night.

Anyway - so Dave, Beth and crew all take us downtown to the liquor store b/c Bobby and I are from CT and we know that they all close at 8pm which is before you even realize that you wanna get drunk and then its too late. So we went to get beer. We got back to the quad and hippy band is still playing jazz and soloing and shit - but that was totally cool (see? I'm trying not to hate) 'cause I needed to get some food and check out the scene. I was feeling a little insecure 'cause I was back in college but since I'm almost 30 it seemed like high school and high school wasn't any picnic. So we eat and there were a couple of totally un-remarkable bands (I'm sorry - I'm a dick). But then the sky opened up and God spoke and when he spoke he was this band of 17 year old high school kids called Paradigm Shift. Dudes - this shit was out of control. Really weird. Basically the band's immediate family was in attendance - grandparents, little brothers, parents, and even girlfriends I think. And those are lucky girls, let me tell you, cause P.S. tears it up like Dream Theatre. I guess their bassist was attending his brother's confirmation (seriously) so it was this guy on keyboards, a drummer and a guitarist doing this complex instrumental metal shred which speaks to their name like no other fucking band in history. Yeah - they sometimes sounded like Europe on a good day and played "Jump" by Van Halen but these kids just loved music. At one point they had the drummer's 13 year old brother sit in on bass for a couple of original 'cause I guess he takes guitar lessons from the guitarist. And speaking of guitarists, man, this kid could really play - and when he soloed - he would walk over to the girls and play to them! And he was definitely cute. Even though Oneida played a good set, I think P.S. out-did us.

So they finished up and another college post-rock band was like, "This is a song by Tortoise," and I was like, "Fuck this. I'm going to start drinking." Which, as the rest of the band can attest, is unusual for me before a show. But I didn't let that stop me from getting half-cocked in a high fashion. We were looking forward to the set by Fey Avalanche 'cause they had a giant super Fender amp. They were great, nice and fast and loud and screamy. So we took to the stage and started yelling at each other which seemed to really entertain the small group of people who were still there. Gotta hand it to them. The only thing I had to drink on stage was beers - and that didn't exactly help my precision. BUT I REFUSED TO LET MY SPIRIT DIE!It was a fun set. I poured a beer down Jane's throat as he soloed during the beginning of "Double Lock Your Mind." And we shared our beer and Wild Turkey with all the kids in the audience. THEY WERE ALL ABOVE 21 YEARS OF AGE. So after the set there was a lot of talk about this dance party that was going to happen at this place called Eclectic House - so we brought all our records down there and the shit turned out to be a fraud. We were like, "Um there isn't a stereo here." And she was like, "Well I don't like to dance anyway." Well, OK. I guess this is when I pour myself a drink from that Popov bottle and stew for a minute. But then Matt (I think) from Fey Avalanche was like, "Do you wanna go to a party?" So we all went to this party and when we got there we followed the music to this attic space with this incredibly loud stereo and a full keg and no one there. So we hunkered down with a bunch of people and had ourselves a dance party until someone came and told us to leave which was I think 2:30. The really strange thing was that Jane had followed us by a couple of minutes and ended up in the basement of the same house where there was a serious party raging. He kept trying to get upstairs to get us but the people from the house weren't letting anyone upstairs. Sometimes people would come up and see all these idiots dancing to hip-hop and laugh and go back downstairs.

So we left the party and Bobby was saying he was going to go to bed and I had just taken some ephedrine and was freaking out saying "NONONONONONO," but Bobby was firm and I knew the only way to get at him was to try to steal a flag from DKE. Of course since DKE was a frat house, they were prepared for idiots like me getting a late nite yen for flag stealing so the mechanism on the flag pole was locked up and everyone I was with were like, "Hey Kid man, they'll really kick your ass if you steal that flag." So Bobby pushed me into the hedge and I destroyed some hedge and was kinda pissed and called Bobby "Bobby Weir" which is the same thing as calling Oneida "jazz" - them's fightin' words. But I knew they were. I was ready, I was baiting that bastard and I was ready to take his ass. Of course Bobby dispatched of me handily with a couple of body slams and such. The thing is, when Bobby dropped my ass to the ground he somehow really fucked up his shoulder and he woke up the next day worried he'd broken his collar bone 'cause he was in a lot of fucking pain and couldn't move his arm. I felt bad, but it was also ridiculously funny because Oneida is always getting into these situations. We're like a bunch of children falling down and hurting ourselves all the time. So Bobby is in a lot of pain. As he said afterwards - he kicked my ass but it was a Pyrrhic victory. I'm saying let's take this one to the judges 'cause I feel fucking great! Bring it on! So then the crew brought Bobby back to the place we were supposed to crash and this is when they really indulged me 'cause I was pretty wasted at this point.

We met up with a couple of Dave's friends and they had just been to a Fugazi concert and so of course I said, "Oh yeah - I saw them back in . . . '92 I think." I was just saying it, not really thinking. And then Jim turns to me and says, "I was nine then." So I'm fucking losing my mind - all these kids are literally 10 years younger than me and I'm running around a college campus making an ass of myself. Well - that didn't stop me. But I did talk a little bit about the fact that Nirvana's "Nevermind" came out when I was a freshman in college - I didn't love that record but it made an impact. Ten years ago. Shit. And you know I was boring the hell out of these nice kids. So this story is over except I gotta give a shout out to Benh (with an H) 'cause I took that note he put on his amp which was in the girl's bathroom (because he said it had really good acoustics - whatever) and I told him I was going to put it back but I never did. I also tore down this table cloth which was taped over a door, mostly because it didn't make any sense to me. I'm sorry, I swear it.

Then the next morning we ate a great breakfast at Hill's Diner. EACH ONE TEACH ONE has arrived - ask us for it.

Sat March 16th - Pittsburgh, PA - Rex Theater

So I hadn't been back to PGH in over a year, last time Oneida played there I was sick and had to cancel out of the tour. I was glad to be returning, I was looking forward to seeing the Johnsons Big Band and was curious about this old movie theater we were playing at.

We pulled up to the joint and the marquee announced "Oneida" in large letters to all the frat chumpies wandering the streets like psychedelic leprechauns. It was the Saturday before St. Patrick's day, we met our friend Juli at her house after we got nice and lost in a strange part of industrial wasteland which is unique to Pittsburgh. She gave me a copy of "The Dirt", the Motley Crue autobiography (or bio - whatever) and basically set the tone for the rest of the tour. Or at least set the tone for what everyone in the van wanted to be reading.

So we got some food and loaded into the Rex - which was a nice enough theater with seats and free beer. The show turned out to be the release party for this band Alexi and the Justin's new CD, they had all this press for the show posted on the walls as you entered the building. I tried to play this pinball machine with a fishing theme but one of the bumpers was broken.

As usual I was being awkward.

Our friend Mike Bonello seemed to know everyone so I just hung around with him. He introduced me to one woman by saying, "She's a filmmaker!" She replied, "Thank you for saying that. I'm tired of telling people."

The Johnsons Big Band played first - which was weird - but a couple of the other members had a show across town the same night so they had to finish up. There were about 12 people on stage, horns, tympani, drums, harmonica, guitar, organ, bass - all while crazy loops and films were projected onto the walls.

After the Johnsons finished their set there was a huge crash, a projector fell from the balcony and narrowly missed a nice guy I had met earlier. A dead person would have put a damper on the evening. Since someone almost got killed the manager of the theater put a stop to all the projections - but I can't sit here and criticize him for it 'cause someone almost got fucking killed, right?

At this point I wandered out into the lobby, where there was free beer and a juke box. Bobby kept putting on "Whipping Post" and turning it up loud. There was this performance art group of women lip synching to The Shaggs at the ticket window, their hair was made up with film strips, it was kind of kinky - I guess how dress up sometimes is. After a minute of this they pulled the curtain and stopped performing along with the music. I went outside to look into the ticket booth to see what was happening. They were just standing around and talking. I think one of them saw me, so I went back inside. I learned later that they stopped because "someone was playing the juke box too loudly." The Shaggs are a sensitive bunch, as are artists?

So Alexi and the Justins certainly played a long set - it seemed to go on forever - but it was their CD release party I guess. The weird thing was that after Oneida's set Alexi came up to me and drunkenly insisted that because he heard that we lost our singer he was willing to drop everything and move to Brooklyn to join Oneida.

So we set up our shit on stage and walked off to take a short break and all of a sudden "Terry the Hippy" (I guess to differentiate between the other PGH Terry) came back stage and was like, "Hey guys - do you want to smoke up?" Terry the Hippy was very drunk indeed at this point but I've got to say I'm confounded about why we didn't take him up on it. But we politely declined. (Insert shout out to Terry the Hippy here.)

He was on stage for the whole set, dancing beautifully in that refined yet shambolic style which all them hippies do so well. And yeah - we had to give him the mic a few times even though he kept saying something like, "Let's kill Saddam!" or "Doin' Business in Iran!" To each his own I guess.

After the set we were desperate to go to Primanti's - that clichéd Oneida tradition in which our PGH friends always indulge us. But this time we were touring with Kayrock on Balinese gongs and well - we really had no
fucking choice. It didn't disappoint.

Sun March 17 - Cleveland, OH - Beachland Tavern

With fond memories of the Beachland from our last visit I rolled into town expectantly. But it WAS fucking St. Patrick's day. Beachland actually suggested to our booking agent that they bill us as O'neida to get the
green beer crowd in the door. Do we dignify that with an answer? But once we got there I realized that must have been a joke - 'cause the Beachland Tavern is filled, absolutely filled - with cool people. The bartender put us up for the night in his clean and spacious pad, the cook whipped up a special and healthy meal for us and apparently most of the staff showed up to see us play on their night off!

In the main room that night was a poetry slam which featured much theatrical reading and clutching of bosoms. Vernacular opened up the rock show, featuring Chris of The Chargers Street Gang on drums, the friendly and kick ass Lawrence on bass (happy birthday btw) and a trumpet/conga player who's name I'm forgetting 'cause I suck. They played improv which did not piss me off a bit - as a lot of that kind of thing does sometimes. I still blame working at the Knitting Factory for my hatred of jazz. The band that was supposed to go on second was really late and their gear didn't show up until the band left in disgust so we ended up going on a little early - and frankly - we were pretty happy with that.

I can't remember how the show went though. I think we did an encore? I don't know.

Later that night this red haired woman was violently punching the bartender while insisting "they were old friends." Then she told me that Cleveland was a very tight knit scene.

The next morning Lawrence took us to Big Al's - a breakfast joint without peer - what a pleasure.

Mon March 18th - Schuba's Tavern/Reckless Records - Chicago

Yeah so we decided to do an in-store even though we are adamantly against them. They always seem like a waste of time. We showed up at about 5pm at the store and there were no fliers anywhere - not that it would have made a difference but the least you could do was pretend that you cared that a band was playing in your store. So there were a few people there to see us play "Sheets of Easter," "People of the North" and I think "Privilege."

Before the set Kayrock thought we should try this Philly Cheese Steak place that he read about in a Philly newspaper. Apparently they shipped the bread and the steak out from Philly for a totally authentic experience. That sounded like a cool idea so we decided to check it out. Turned out that the place was a total fraud. Of course Jane, Bobby and I were none the wiser but Karl kept insisting that "something" was wrong with
his sandwich. "The cheese is fucked up," Kayrock said - he should know having grown up in Philly.

He stormed back to the kitchen and demanded to see what kind of cheese they were using.

"We use Cheese Wiz," someone kept saying.

"Can I see the can?"

IT WAS REVEALED NOT TO BE CHEESE WIZ.

A serious, serious fuck up. Bro, heads were gonna roll. We had to pull Kayrock out of the joint before
he called the Better Business Bureau.

Anyway - we had to go play an in-store to nobody.

Later we rolled over to Schuba's Tavern with its grand blond oak detailing and loaded in as Plastic Crimewave and the Fake were doing a sound check. They were playing this kick ass Bo Diddley freak out jam and they sounded good. Last time we were in Chicago I had hung out with Caryn, the rhythm guitarist, and had developed a bit of a crush on her. I got to talk to her a little after we played. There was a drunk guy in the audience who stood in front of her for their entire set and staggeringly "conducted" her playing (no it wasn't me). He came up to us while we were chatting and seemed to want to kill me. Perhaps it was because I challenged him to play "The Wizard" by Sabbath on harp. Oh yeah - and it was his birthday.

Sparky from Songs:Ohia was there - as were all our Crosshair people so I should have made all those dudes go up and play "The Wizard." It seemed like on this tour a number of people thought that I was trying to fuck with them. That karma of course took a nasty turn when we opened up for Andrew W.K. at the Bowery Ballroom.

But anyway - so I'm talking with Caryn and like this dude is hanging around and telling her that he wants to buy her a drink. I'm just standing there cause I ain't no tough guy unless I wanna fight a member of Oneida. She manages to extricate us from the situation by saying to the dude, "I think I'm going to get some WATER." We go to the bar and I awkwardly tried to connect this interesting book she was describing (about William Burroughs' lawyer I think) to the Motley Crue book, "The Dirt."

Note to self: Don't talk about "The Dirt" when you are trying to be charming.

So anyway - that situation played into the ground by 'ole Kid M - we loaded out our gear and went off to bar and then to our friend Tom's place and watched "Cannibal!" on DVD with the director's commentary.

Tue March 19th - Madison - Corral Room

I woke up the next day and realized that I had to try to get my passport from my parents' house in CT. The fact that it wasn't at my parents house in CT didn't really occur to me at the time. So I had to attempt to cross the
Canadian border later in the week without proof of citizenship. I'll get to that in a minute though.

After the ill-fated phone call to the folks, I wandered the Chicago streets in search of white jeans 'cause I thought it would help me meet women. I didn't find any that worked for me mainly because I only had one pair of shoes and they were these orthopedic nerd shoes. So I needed shoes too and I started feeling ridiculous.

I had high hopes for the Corral Room because last time we played there it was such a tremendous night. This band called Digibot had basically fried my fucking skull last time and there were like 120 people there.

Our friend and promoter Carl met us at the club and took us to this great Indonesian place and after telling us that he thought there would be over 100 people at the show I let my head get away from me for a minute. There were a bunch of freaks in attendance - especially one former member of Pachinko who kept showing us his dick while we were playing. All I got to say to that was it wasn't the first time. The thing we noticed probably most acutely was this insane mix tape Carl was playing before the show. It was full of crazy death metal, weird synth musak and chipmunk style stoner rock. Turns out it was made by this woman who used to be in this band called Tormantula - a local death metal trio of ladies who wore corpse paint and licked gothic fountains or something. What I'm trying to say was they rule and her tape ruled. Kayrock was like, "Um can I marry this woman?"

Carl gave us their CD and single before we left for Bloomington the next day, after he made sure that Bobby hadn't trashed his house like he had done while sleepwalking the last time we were in town. I know Carl is married and he lives with his wife but I swear to God I still haven't seen her and we've stayed there twice now. But we've met the cats and they're really nice. A shout out to Carl's wife for letting us smell in your house.

Wed March 20th - Bloomington, IN.- Second Story

So fuckin' a - this night was chaos. I'm not sure where to begin. Let's see - we roll into town after a kick ass meal of fried chicken at Gray's Cafeteria and Casey, a nice intern at Jagjaguwar hands me this T-shirt she had made for me which said, "Marc Bolan Lives." Right on. But I'm so goddamn tired and we have to go and play on the radio. So we do that and then go to the venue where our bottle of fucking whiskey is waiting for us (Bloomington always represents) and I'm starting to freak out because the backstage is so COLD and the sound guy is cranking what he calls "pop rock" over the system because it was a cold day or some shit. I just sit there and ice my hands in a couple of pitchers of ice water - oh yeah - I have fucking carpal tunnel syndrome and I'm about 30 and I'm feeling it all over.

The first band, The Coke Dares, were a real pleasure - cranking through about 25 fine, catchy, Damned style punk rave ups. Then we got up there and jerked around for a while. I wore my new Marc Bolan shirt. Its really weird - I can't remember shit from this tour.

Our friend Alan from Turnbuckle showed up at the show from Louisville which was a nice surprise. Last time we saw him we were in London crashed out on his floor - all his roommates growing gradually more resentful at our intrusion. So I guess its after the show when things started to get insane. I was really exhausted 'cause I had driven all day from Madison to get there but I was the only one sober so I had to shuttle people to this dance party which was about to get kicking at 3am. As we were standing outside by the van waiting to leave this car crammed full of people screamed to a halt in front of us. "GET IN THE FUCKING CAR!" this one woman yelled at us, "I HAVE A GREAT ASS!" And then she showed us her ass. Apparently they were going to the dance party.

Then someone said, "What's Dave Paho doing in that car?" Yeah - Dave Paho of Papa M and Slint fame was sitting in the back of the car doing his best to make himself disappear. So I got in the van and shuttled people over to the party but I was like, "Listen - I'm going to fucking bed and I'm gonna take the van back to Jonathan's and I'm gonna crash and you'll have to find your way home."

I didn't really say that but in retrospect that's what I wanted to do, even though I thought I was being cool and indulgent. So it turned out that the dance party wasn't really a dance party - it was just a couple of people trying to tear Darius' clothes off. He fought valiantly and arose victorious. We all went home and crashed soon after.

I arose the next morning and went to breakfast so I could drive to fucking Detroit for a show that was rumored to be cancelled.

Thurs March 21st - Detroit - Detroit Contemporary

Well - this was kind of a bust. Of course it wasn't at all - because Violent Ramp and the 25 Suaves played and kicked a ton of ass. And I had a great time. But the promoter of the show deserved an old fashioned beat down - and I'm gonna say that freely 'cause he knows it.

It was so goddamn cold when we pulled into town. Apparently the promoter had called up our booking agent the day before and was like, "Dude, I didn't do any promotion for this show, I didn't make any fliers, no one is going to come. I need to cancel it."

YO FUCK THAT.

We play no matter what. Even if its in the basement of a frat at 3 in the morning right before we ram pool cues into whatever windows we could find.

So we played - and Jane studiously avoided grinding curbs with Violent Ramp - 'cause last time we were there he basically destroyed his knee for life and his children are going to have a Daddy that can't play touch football like the other Dads.

But yeah - so afterwards we followed Pete and DJ Party Girl out to their house in Adrian, MI - which was like almost 2 hours through this blizzard and I was losing my mind imagining that we were sliding all over the place
and even the Wheat Thins and Fig Newtons weren't helping things. But we got there eventually and then sat around as the snow fell and listened to ZZ Top and AC/DC and heard about Pete and Party Girl's new life out in the country. We were the first band that had ever stayed at their house.

Pete made us pancakes the next orning before we drove to Toronto and I was heartily abused by the border guard. More on that next issue!

Fri March 22nd - Toronto, CANADA - Three-Gut 2nd Year Anniversary Party

(Click here for pictures from the party.)

"SO WHICH ONE OF YOU GENTLEMAN WILL NOT BE COMING INTO CANADA TODAY?"

The scary Sergeant Slaughter look-alike was referring to me. I fucked everything up. Everything is fucked. I guess we're not getting into Canada. I lean forward slowly from the back seat. "Excuse me. What the hell were you thinking with this?" he said holding up my driver's license.

I didn't answer.

"Have you ever been to a foreign country before?"

"Yes."

"What country?"

"Canada."

He had to stop at that one 'cause they never used to check passports at the border. Anyway - I'm trying to remember how much abuse I got but then again I'm not trying to forget it you know? Let's just say we made it through the border and I felt like a total asshole 'cause this one border agent said, "They don't have to let you back in the states if they don't want."

So I was sitting there in the van pulling away from Detroit and driving deep into the heart of crazy CA-NAH-DUH and feeling like I was never going to get back into the states again. Maybe I would have to wander the streets of Toronto for like a year and start to pick up the accent and get a job making toques for Tim Horton's, the ubiquitous Canadian donut chain. So halfway frozen with terror and thrilled that we were learning truckers' CB lingo from this book I bought, we rolled into Toronto and into a party of insane proportions with totally unforeseen results.

Lisa and Tyler met us at the club - this weird Mexican themed bar on the second floor of a building. They hugged me and assured me that they would help me start a new life in Canada when I was inevitably refused re-entry at the border. I'll never forget that generous offer, 'cause like after that show I wanted to both live in Canada permanently and also strangle every last one of the inhabitants.

So the rocking started off with a good-natured bang by Oxes - an instrumental trio from Baltimore who were very concerned that we didn't know any of the Brooklyn bands that they knew. The two guitarists had wire-less rigs which they utilized to the fullest, leaving the drummer up there to bash away alone. He never looked lonely though, he usually looked bemused, as did the other guys in Oxes. They were the other people on this tour who seemed to feel like I was fucking with them.

"Hey I'm Kid."

"Hi I'm Chris. What's your real name?"

"Its Kid."

"No - the name you were given at birth."

I was really hoping that they would join us for our Stern Yet True dance party after the show but they went on their way. I hope to see and rock with them again.

Anyway - so the Three-Gut All Star Band got up there next and played a bunch of covers - including a nice version of "My Generation" - it was a really strange version of the song because its like 37 years old and the guys who were playing it are younger than me and they were really giving it a straight rock reading - they didn't even do the Pete Townsend freak out section at the end of the song. But I ain't criticizing shit 'cause all those fellas really represented during our set and grabbed whatever free mics they could find and started to scream.

So Tyler and Lisa had made Three-Gut underwear for all the participants in the evening. I grabbed a pair of medium black briefs and wore them for the next two days straight.

But I think I'm losing my narrative thread here - so I'll stick to what came next which was Oneida getting on stage and giving everyone a proper beat down with "People of the North" and whatever other songs we were playing at the time. During "People" someone kept throwing popcorn at me which was really distracting. Thinking it was our friend Molly (see previous tour report for when she poured a beer on me) I got on the mike and harangued her to get the fuck on stage for the next song and dance. Even though I found out later that she was innocent of the popcorn throwing (it was Peaches) I've got to give her mad props because she got on fucking stage and danced for the next song. Wow. Innocent and everything.

Before the set I had told the guys that I was really feeling a rant coming on so at one point I got up on my kit and started talking about Alanis being at the party and 88s and needing them from the people and then I kind of ran out of steam and can't remember what else I said. Apparently it was a lot of stuff about Canada.

So we ended the set with "Double Lock Your Mind" and the stage became totally swamped with people, rolling around on top of each other and Dallas was in a wrestling suit while Steve screamed in his underwear standing on the railing. And I'll be fucking damned if that shit didn't become the photo of the week on this Canadian rock website. Everyone was saying that Toronto never gets that crazy, ever.

So we end the set and someone stops me and tells me that I played a good set.

"What's your name?"

"Kid. What's yours?"

"Peaches."

"Oh so you're Peaches."

"And you're Kid!"

Then someone had Bobby and I take our photo with Chris from Sloan because they thought we all looked like brothers. At first Bobby and I told everyone that we were brothers because people sometimes tell us we look alike - but then I felt guilty because everyone was being really nice to us so told them that we weren't really brothers. So then some DJs started playing slow hip hop and people were trying to dance but Bobby and I thought we could do better so we were telling everyone that we needed to have a dance party and everyone seemed really fucking psyched to do it but it was all a facade we learned later 'cause the place we were staying had a bunch of people sleeping and we ran out of beer.

So then after being really fucking overjoyed with Canadia-land I was really pissed off at Canada 'cause everyone went to bed. But now I like Canada again. Lisa and Tyler were really fucking cool to Oneida and we are indebted to them for at least a couple of weeks and then we're going to forget all about it and pretend like we never met them. Wait I'm just kidding.

Sat March 23rd - London, ON - Call the Office

So the next day I was really fucking tired and we had to go play a show with the Constantines which was gonna kick ass but I gotta say I was damned tired. Did I say that? We arrived at Call the Office and I immediately tried to get my folks to fax me my birth certificate so I could get back in the states again. Turned out I didn't need it but that's another story.

Because it was The Constantines the place was nicely packed, there were even a couple of people who liked our set. I worked hard up there but I also kind of phoned it in - not on purpose - just 'cause I was out of it. The Cons kicked ass and sold a lot of merch and then hooked us up with a place to crash with a friend of theirs' who made us watch this Fleetwood Mac video and we were eating poutine and left-over Thai food and then I looked up and it was fucking 4:30am and we wanted to get up at 9 so we could make it back to NYC at a reasonable time.

As I feel asleep there was this scary video on the TV by this Black Metaller who had gotten plastic surgery to make his face look gruesome - or rather to make his face look, well, like the troll from "Troll." At least get some creativity together pal.

So that's it kiddies - Oneida made it back safe and sound the next day. I got through the border somehow and we ate hot dogs in Buffalo with Loganberry Juice. I'm still recovering from the trip 'cause we played on Tues with Andrew W.K. and then on Thursday with Bardo Pond - I might tell you about those shows sometime soon but right now I'm just surprised that I got through all of this in one piece.

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