no time is wasted– yasig starts the overnight drive. according to my camera roll, i ate a piece of cold bread with butter at 1am. it is our first night in the sleeper van; it was fine.
i awaken to us stopping at 9am, run in to the services to go pee, and fall back asleep until 12:40pm– i was up late the night before. waking up that late isn’t normal for me, but i kind of justify it in my head by thinking “i am attempting to reinvent my circadian rhythm for this very long pursuit of mine.” keyan was up early, wandering around barcelona, taking still videos with our camcorders around the city, when he stumbled upon “intig coffee,” kitty-corner from the graphic design school at the center of town. he bugs me in my slumber to go join him, and i drag dillon along as well. i practice my spanish again and order for all of us– we get sandwiches on these skinny baguettes, which i presume is a staple in spain, since i see it often here. we grab a table and the boys leave to the restroom.
apparently there is a long line.
dillon returns and informs me that he witnessed keyan conversing with a middle-aged italian woman in line. we gossip together, tiny sandwiches in hand, and start writing nonsense to and fro in my notes app.
are you jealous that he gets to have this conversation?
he is still nowhere to be seen, and i become worried that he has been abducted into a sex trafficking ring. he seems like a conceivable target. we roam the premises in search for him to no avail.
dillon and i decide to leave since he isn’t answering his phone and hope for the best… we turn a corner and find him talking to her and the rest of her friends outside. me and dillon giggle. he says he’ll meet up with us later.
dillon and i find a chronicles of narnia book open on a wooden bench and take pictures of it for our tumblr blogs.
all there is to do on tour is walk around and drink coffee. at a certain point, we accompany dillon at a restaurant while he eats a pulled pork sandwich (he is a slow eater), and i read more of the susan sontag essay of emil cioran that ash recommended to me.
EXISTENCE IS STILL DEFINED BY THINKING. ok then.
keyan and i grab another coffee and vegan bowls from nomad where he speaks to me extensively about raw stainless steel camping equipment and proceeds to show me pictures of said equipment on his phone– then we head back to the venue to set up.
today’s luck: there was an elevator today for our gear, and we get news that our driver, yasig, finally threw away the rotting cheese.
soundcheck jottings:
i am writing while we wait for brendan to be ready for us. lauren hands me 30EU for dinner that i probably won’t use tonight, and will potentially lose before i get a chance to.
my mom calls and says she saw me on her instagram explore page and that she likes my “new style” (referring to the black and red outfit from australia).
i inadvertently become keyan’s guitar tech and tune all his guitars and set them up for him while he “dials in three amps.”
also, we stole us to eu adapters from the venue, clamores last night as retribution for their unpleasant sound tech, so we don’t have to buy any right now.
we play our little songs and clean up our gear for robber robber to check.
post sound check:
some random lady i just met is taking us to a hotel room (venue paid for) before the set (for showering and getting ready). she is calling a taxi to take us there because there are already fans outside the venue and i don’t wanna push my big ass suitcase in front of all of them. there is nothing more pathetic and demeaning than fans seeing you with your luggage. it’s too intimate– it’s like being naked.
i look at dillons face and he does this long slow closed eye thing that looks like he is in immense pain and dissatisfaction with his current circumstances.
the driver tells us we have to buckle. everyone buckles except me– it is inconvenient because of my bags and the three of us are clustered in the back seat. the hotel is only 5 minutes away, but i discover some newer cars have backseat sensors for seatbelts… there is a steady consistent beep the whole drive. i can feel everyone’s disappointment in me, but it is too difficult to buckle now.
arrive at hotel, rush to get ready, take mirror selfies in bathroom, make a pourover, get a taxi back to the venue, warm up, set up, and immediately play. and then basically everything that can go wrong goes wrong:
keyan’s in ear mix was fucked, dillon messed up drumming countless times, i forgot how to play bass, keyan also messed up guitar multiple times, i had to yell to the lights person twice mid set, etc etc. anytime me and dillon were doing well, keyan would mess up– rinse and repeat. brendan says the show was awesome, in response to our self-deprecating post show banter, and that when dillon accidentally adds an extra beat that we catch it’s like it was on purpose.
the only redeeming factor of the set was this bald middle-aged man scream singing every word at me– i recognize him from the madrid show where he did the same thing.
the three thirty-something italian women keyan shmoozed with earlier in the day ended up coming. he speaks to them after the set, and they remark something like “i didn’t realize you guys were actually famous!”
pack up all our gear, load van, get shitty food, go back to hotel room so we can all shower…. go to van again.
two middle-aged spanish men who were fans compliment us outside, and say they are excited for primavera. this crowd had a somewhat older audience, which i attribute to the upcoming festival and a general interest in alternative music in barcelona.
it turns out yasig didnt throw away the cheese because the fridge still wreaks.
travel day tomorrow and then i will be in milano….