september 10, 2002   denver, bluebird theatre

just a hop, skip and a jump to denver, co (the centennial state, pop. 4,301,261) - yep, just 565 miles to go. we woke up at 8:30 for our daily drive but our hotel was haunted - scott heard voices from the shower faucet telling him to kill johnny. luckily scott knew to question the voices from the faucet (question authority).

we played at the bluebird which has the best marquee around. the neighborhood has gotten a lot better here - we played in this neighborhood with garbage in 1998 and johnny and I drunkenly stumbled around the bluebird that night to see nashville pussy. now, however, the neighbors are coming down hard and heavy on the club for noise violations. theresa was in charge of the decibal meter and our traditional muy duro sound was now just a sexy little soft whisper of love in our ears. radio four gave denver the what for and then gave the porcelain god in the backstage room the what for with a healthy dose of vomit.

   
september 11, 2002 salt lake city, liquid joe's
it's only 517 miles to salt lake city, ut (the beehive state, pop. 2,233,169) so we begrudgingly awoke at 8:30 to begin our arduous trek through the mountains and across the plains. it was rainy and gray but still beautiful. today is the one year anniversary of sept. 11, 2001.

tonight's show was very good and some people reminded us of when we played a rodeo at spanish forks, ut with rage against the machine. at the time the utah press created a furor and convinced the town councils and police that a rage against the machine show was going to be a convergence of the bloods and crips from la and the antichrist (from la too?). there could be no show in salt lake city and only spanish forks would have us. every local, state, highway and other cop showed up ready to arrest zack and the other rage guys if they performed nwa's "fuck tha police" which they did. the crowd went insane and the police mysteriously vanished like ufo's at roswell. mulder? fox? what's going on?
       
september 12, 2002 no where and everywhere, utah, idaho, oregon, washington

today is a heinous travel day from clearfield, ut through the unbelievable landscape of idaho (the gem state, pop. 1,293,953) and oregon and washington en route to seattle. we finally had a night to actually get some sleep and spent part of the day doing your typical leisure time activities (going to the post office, getting gas, staring out of the window, staring out of the window, getting gas, staring out of the window, eating, getting gas and other things - like staring out of the window).

since i'm getting used to walking down memory lane, we played in boise, id with rage against the machine and stanford prison experiment in 1996 at this old prison that had been turned into a macabre museum. our backstage rooms were the actual cells and police watched us from the walls of the prison to make sure we didn't do anything too sexy. it was difficult but we kept our pants on.

 
september 13, 2002   seattle, crocodile cafe
     

after only six or seven million years we arrive in seattle, wa (the evergreen state, pop. 5,894,121). seattle is famous for many things, including jimi hendrix, bill gates and many gallons of water contaminated with our clothes funk. that's right, it's laundry day and we fill all the remaining washing machines that aren't filled with some homeless guys clothes. meanwhile, in paradox land, we are staying in the 4 star sheraton downtown, 20th floor, overlooking the whole city, living the plush life to which we are accustomed.

today's employee of the day is the unfortunate crocodile cafe employee that has to clean someone's vomit out of the urinal - here's to you, mr vomit urinal cleaning guy! and now I apologize for breaking in to the crocodile main office to get our guitars like james bond. I got the guitars but managed to cover myself with grease, 1000 year old dust and one rat glue trap - but I broke nothing.

 
       
     
september 14, 2002   blackbird, portland
 

after an intoxicating sleep at the 4 star hotel, we hit the road for portland, or (the beaver state, pop. 3,421,399). this is a good day because our drive to portland will be leisurely and all we have to do is sit around and dread our drive to san francisco later tonight. our audience tonight is looking good and they seem to be in good spirits since it isn't raining and most of them aren't currently addicted to heroin. up the street from the club is an old theater called the hollywood which is playing roman holiday. scott, being a hopeless romantic lovesick fool for love, disappears into the fantasy void of the cinema. the rest of us are left to ponder our existence and lament the passing of our youth, and other, uh, stuff.

it's really humid up here and I'm devising a system of recycling my sweat which should, if my plans go correctly, solve the drought problem back east and in california. if I can get the dentist tool to siphon off my sweat, I might be able to come up with an apparatus to put out wildfires. who knows really-the possibilities are endless. as a side note, I didn't know it before but the mental health professionals in portland are very helpful.

 
   
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