12-6-98 The Blue Note. Columbia, Mo

Shirt (the soundman's name is 'Shirt') has done 2 things this morning. Firstly he's decided that he doesn't need his hair anymore and he's shaved it all with a razor (and now looks like Ming the Merciless of Mongo from the Flash Gordon comics). Secondly he threw up at 10am. It transpires that my brother released a cloud of flatulent vapour so evil it caused Shirt to run to the balcony and hurl over the edge the second it touched his nostrils. Bizarre . . . impressive, yet bizarre.

Columbia is slap in the middle of America. People talk through their noses and like to get really drunk. The gig goes really well and we all enjoy it. During one stage dive I get my shirt sleeve torn by the crowd. Oh the kids love to maim us.

I notice that every time a girl gets up to stage dive she gets molested by all the geeky no date death metal masturbaters in the crowd. They feel em up and try to pull their skirts and t-shirts up. Terribly sad. I ask them to stop, to no avail of course.

After the show I sneak off on my own to grab a shower at the hotel before we split for Elvis country. I am spied by one of the teenage girls who surfed and got mauled. She decides she's going walk me to my hotel safely because I put on " . . . one kick ass show man."
The girl is wearing a tartan mini-skirt and knee high white socks. She isn't wearing any shoes. Her socks are filthy.

"Why aren't you wearing any shoes?"
"I took them off to crowd surf and they got stolen."
"Unlucky."
"Not really, it's my karma."
"What?"
"I was the one who ripped your shirt."
"What?"
"I was trying to rip the sleeve off so I could keep it. But then I got my ass grabbed by a hundred desperate geeks and someone stole my shoes. It's my karma."

The Shark arrives and I climb on board. I lose the shirt ripper in the affray and we roll on. Tomorrow is a day off and we're heading for Elvis country. Down with the King.

5 minutes up the road to freedom and we pull over to refuel. A woman is tapping her high heeled shoes on the bus door window. What is it with crazy women and shoes tonight? Missouri foot fetish.
The woman is a 45 year old lunatic in a summer dress. I open the door to see what she wants and she bowls straight into the front lounge.

"Are you guys a band? I know you're a band. My daughter came to see you guys tonight. You guys rock. I just love your accent. Who's the lead singer? I just love lead singers. Are you the lead singer?"
"No I'm the guitarist."
"I just love guitarists too."

Five minutes later and the 45 year old lunatic has her summer dress pulled up over her shoulders and her bra by her knees. She's not wearing any panties.

"Are you the guitar tech? I just love guitar techs. Anything to do with guitars. Guitars get me horny. Are you the guitar tech? "
"No I'm the singer."

I sign her notebook as 'Johnny Gravity Kills' and usher her off the bus. We continue down the road to Elvis country. Good bye Missouri foot fetishists. Goodbye middle aged flasher.