I would describe Mila - our Italian promoter - but I already did when I told you all about Mozine from Brasil.
At a stop light in Milano we were panhandled by a woman whose legs, from the thigh down, were backwards. He knees and feet pointed the other direction and she had to walk with a stick. We were explained that she and a slew of other abnormals were pimped out by some guy who dropped them off in the morning then picked them up at night. Modern day elephantmen.
di Martucci pics by Valentina:
Italy Ė great people, bad toilets.
I donít know how it happened but in the middle of "Rat Bastard" I was knocked unconscious and woke up in the drums with a nasty cut over my eye and a breath-taking pain in my ribs. I was then hoisted on a bunch of guysí shoulders while someone poured a bottle of water on me and my guitar. Two songs later I could not move and my guitar was as loud as a pair of headphones. Two of our friends started fighting in front of us and comments came from our camp that were disrespectful to them and the rest of our hosts. The fighting and the inconsiderate comments, combined with my physical and equipmental failings irked me further. We barely finished the show and I was ready to crash out just to let the bad feelings simmer and dissipate, but then Devon got me all paranoid about having a concussion. So instead I stripped off all my clothes and road around on a banana-seat bicycle. The LíAMICO di MARTUCCI drummer literally gave me the shirt off his back and that cheered me up. Then at 6am someone started cooking another dinner and I ate until I could stay awake no more.
In Napoli the police actually yell at you if you take the time to stop at a street light. And people ride 4 to a scooter. In a recent newscast about the dangerous trend the reporter asked a scooter-ist why he had 3 people on his scooter. "Because the fourth guy is at home."
Our van was dropped off at a garage yesterday and we werenít supposed to pick it up till today. In the time it was gone I realized I missed it. I missed not having a little sanctuary to call home. I missed not having a place to sit and rest that didnít require asking someoneís permission first. I guess I am not the anchorless vagabond I thought I was. Once we got it back everybody took dibs on sleeping in it and in no time it was filled up again with pee-filled water bottles.
Finding Robertís beard hair on my stuff was not annoying until I pulled some from my fresh laundry. Oh well, at least it was clean.
Why are the French so damned awesome?! In Audincourt we were treated so well we thought of calling Dirk Hosen from Husem over to have a Whose Nicer? party. Cyril gave Robert a huge tattoo that pretty much completed his left arm sleeve.
I was enjoying a delicious baguette so I started fondling it sweetly and kissing it until Devon called me a faguette.
All three of tonightís bands are named after 80ís songs titles (KILLED FOR CHRIST, VIOLENT PACIFICATION, WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?). The first band covered "Gorilla Biscuits" by GORILLA BISCUITS and I later found out they didnít know the chorus was "G-O-R-I-double-L-A Biscuits!" I was singing it under my breath later in the night when Cyril stopped and incredulously asked what the words were. Thinking back, I had that song on an unlabeled cassette and I remember also not knowing the chorus for a long time. At least I shared the mother tongue or I probably wouldnít have known what the words were either.
Devon just said
I was the strangest person he knew. Devon said that! Devon!
A few Israelis came to the München show, among them a girl whose first ever punk show was YOUR MOTHER in Tel Aviv some 6 years ago. I was therefore not as upset as I could have been when she careened across the dance floor while we played and slammed into my microphone stand, breaking off my front tooth and chipping another. Plus, itís been 15 years of playing shows where I have been bashed in the mouth with a microphone so it was bound to happen eventually. Now I have a lisp and I am afraid to eat anything and everyone keeps making Dumb and Dumber references at me.
I donít know which came first Ė my momís obsession with peopleís teeth or her becoming a dental assistant Ė but calling to ask her advice was akin to a guy calling his father and telling him he just wrecked his dadís car. She wasnít as frantic as I was expecting but it was still a hard call to place. She did tell me that it would cost about $3000 to get it fixed since I didnít have insurance. I quickly started to warm to the idea of being called Alfred E Newman for the rest of my life.
Incidentally the girl who did this had acquired the nickname "Klutz" long before tonight.
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