Cold. Cold, tired, and very fucking sick of cigarette smoke. We played a walk-in ashtray called the Jigsaw here in Parma (which is just a euphemism for Cleveland as far as I can tell). It is stuffy and smelly. Ravn and Sanguine are both suffering from voice strain, and Ravn specifically designated the backstage as no smoking to little avail. Maybe we should have shoved wet rags under the door. A large and malevolent cold front has joined the tour package, and we have been driving in snow since Rouyn Nouranda with no relief in sight. It is nerve-wracking and tedious. It also doesn't help that I didn't really anticipate any of this and did not bring the according gloves and jacket. This tour is teaching me several lessons regrading preparedness. Flashback to Rouyn Nouranda 3 days ago- the show was well-attended by hessian kids of all ages from the local community. They were not too familiar with us but they gamely started pits and chanted at all the right parts. The reaction was worth the long and somewhat treacherous drive. Once Goatwhore hit the stage the audience was at fever pitch, with continuous pit action including several young girls. The only disconcerting part was noticing that nobody stopped moving even when the music stopped. It quickly became clear that cocaine has a large foothold in this town, as there is plenty of oil industry money to fuel it. This was something of an ugly revelation to me. Are there any regions in the world that remain unspoiled by modern excesses? The answer remained no as the night went on. An after party was held at a local pub and while some of us, myself included, caught up on sleep others got rip-roaring drunk and acquired local groupies for foreign relations at the town's 4-star hotel. The van is currently a very cold place to sleep and all of us now have coughs on that account.
Toronto was thermonuclear. We played to about 500 at the Opera House and it seems that we were not forgotten since our last visit. People spilled over the barricades in front of the stage, and there was plenty of wildness out on the floor beyond. This could possibly be the best show of the entire tour, with NYC a close second. We have eight more shows to go, so we could yet be surprised (L.A., we're looking in your direction). We are starting to feel fatigued and compromised. Toronto is usually where we finish in our outings to Canada, so the idea of two more weeks to go has a daunting feel at present. Miss Barbra Fisch hosted us at a local bar for her metal DJ outing, then put us up for the night in her warehouse apartment. I slept while Sanguine and our roadie Dylan stayed up with her to drink wine and watch horror movies. It is always a comfort to have friends who offer safe haven.
Cold. Cold, tired, and ready to leave Parma. The crowd tonight was attentive but muted. My guess is that it is a product of the ennui and malaise that comes with living in Ohio.
