I seem to be having alot of dreams lately involving bugs...not computer ones, but huge, unreal intimidating insects. It's possible that I am going nuts, but I don't think that's the problem. We are surrounded by harsh gnashing mandibles from the moment we fall out of our bunks 'till we finally accept the embrace of Morpheus, drooling and slumped in the back lounge an hour from our next load-in. Daylight rips us a new asshole. Stumbling, still drunk, into a stinking, fetid void that appears on the itinerary as a club somewhere in the world and all I want to do in that first fifteen minutes is poop, but the stalls are still retched with last night's sewage so I drag my soggy ass across the street to the starbucks/7-11/public library/methadone clinic and ask to use the toilet and of course they say NO! I offer to place them and their entire family on the guest list but they don't recognize the band. Probably better for them. I sit down and commence to spackle the already filthy toilet with my wine-stained excrement and I start to cry as the parade of bugs draws nearer. I search for a cigarette; there are none on my person. I would suck the filth from Satan's anus for a smoke right now, but the 7-11 is not pooping distance from the venue. I hear the truck door open...panic. Surly neanderthals are already asking for me for swag as I poop. Is this a union hall? Is this a hall at all, or perhaps an atoll of the bikini variety. I pray hard for release. A load bar hits the concrete and I fall kneeward, begging for release from this awful day.
My alarm rings cheerfully in my bunk. I smell coffee and have to poop, but smoke a cigarette instead while the morning unfolds around me. There are two voice messages for me...both are my girlfriend expressing her love for me, one morning love and a pre-nap afternoon love. I swoon and stretch. Coffee draws me out of my bunk. People are eating Cheerios out of plastic cups. I look for ramen and find none, so I search for a good place to shit and hang the backdrop.