As comedowns go this was, well, one.
Tuesday night in a relatively small city in the Netherlands and we're playing the Incubate festival with very little idea of what to expect or who to expect it from. As it turned out, the best thing that happened to me in Tilburg was/were bikes. Millions of the fuckers ...
Notice how I use the word 'bikes' a lot - that's the most fun I had today. The show itself was poorly attended ('drafty' is my preferred term of reference) and the catering s-h-i-t* but I did speak to a bunch of lovely people including the promoter, Frank, and the stage manager, also Frank.
Celebrity rock-band AIDS-capsules Mr.Big were playing across the way and there was a short altercation with a particularly loathsome Dutch GMIWNFUACW*1 who assumed we were the backing band. Sure, we told her, come in for the soundcheck - then we fucked off.
This is what passed for mental gymnastics today -
THE ONLY PEOPLE I MET TODAY were called Frank.
THE SADDEST THING I SAW TODAY was my own face in a mirror, so bereft of joy that my chin had fled upwards to my forehead.
* for 'sweet and sour' read 'red sauce'.