Sunday, May 22

3:10 pm
Plane

Headed for Saint Louie.  Last show in North America.

Man, how I've been looking forward to this day.  Ready to rock it and get the fuck outta town.

Keep the engines running and the plane on the taxiway, Man... ready to get back home to my Babies.

As much as I'm set to go home, these last few shows have been a helluva lot of fun.  Last night especially, the Milwaukee crowd was Nuts.  Musta been all that good beer, ha ha.

Had a blast onstage, we were really firing on all cylinders.  X-Man was on fire.  Plus I won my bet with Davey about that damned REM song.  He was positive I wouldn't be able to pull that one off, even with the tele.  I showed his ass, practiced it for like an hour in my dressing room.  Then I went out there and nailed that sonofabitch.  Eat your heart out, Michael Stipe, ha ha.

Davey, I'll take that case of wine delivered to the Jersey house, thankyouverymuch.

Feelin' good tonight, feeling feisty.  Gonna be a fun show.  Last one here at home for awhile.  I think we all need a break, both us and the fans.  But we're going out with a Bang.

Tomorrow I'm back to being Dad.  Jess is staying at our place tonight, first thing tomorrow we're heading out to Newark for him to start his tutoring gig.  I got stuff to do with the Foundation; just moved a few meetings around and voila--I can keep an eye on Mr. Expelled while I get some shit done.  Lots to do, too... Cate and I take off for Vegas Thursday morning so I gotta pack a lot of shit into a few days.

But first I gotta play RockStar tonight.  Then I get to play Horny-RockStar-Home-From-the-Road somewhere after midnight, heh heh.  That ain't gonna be a stretch.  But I guess we'll have to confine the activities to the bedroom with Jess in the house.  Dammit, guess I didn't exactly think that through.

But for now, meet me in Saint Louie, Louie....


4:55 pm
Soundcheck

SON
OF
A
BITCH.

They did it again.

The whole Goddamned Band and Crew.

Not Grouchos, not Elvises.

Fucking feathery, blingy Elton John fucking glasses.  Giant ones.  Multicolored.  With layers and layers of feathers and jewels and goofy shit all over them.  And there are hats.  Big rainbow-colored Mad Hatter hats.  Looks like some sorta Dr. Seuss convention out there at my fucking Soundcheck.

And everybody's just calmly going about their business, like nothing's unusual.  Nobody's even cracking a smirk at me when I walk up to them and stare them right in the eyeballs.

Fuckers.

X is the craziest.  He looks like some sorta deranged Muppet with these giant lime green and fuschia feathers sprouting from the temples of his rhinestone shades.  And he's got this insane purple top hat that is covered with sequins and giant peacock feather.  Add in all that wild-ass hair of his and its like he's an extra in some bad 70's porn flick.  Ghetto Pimp #2.  He even has a fake fucking gold tooth.

He just nodded at me and said "Hey Boss."  That's it.

David's glasses are giant fucking peace signs.  Red, white, and blue.  And Tico?  He has a fucking PARROT on the side of his.

DB's running around shooting it all.  Of course he's in the same crazy-ass getup too.  At least I'll have photographic proof that I didn't hallucinate all this shit.

I fucking give up.