Personal records just keep falling on this tour. I get up at 7pm. Well I'm woken up actually, I could've slept another six hours. I am still alive. I drank the coloured drinks, I smoked the smokes, I crossed paths with those of little agenda. I got out alive. Nice place to visit. I go out to eat with Gravity Kills. I don't know what's going on. I can't believe it's 7pm. I keep asking people what time it is. Dallas-London-New Orleans. I'm fucked. The waitress doesn't like me. She thinks I'm on drugs. She could be right. I don't know what's going on. Help.
Later we hit a truck stop on the freeway in Alabama. We need rolling papers. They don't sell rolling papers. We get desperate. We start to ask people at the gas station if they have any papers. They don't. Mr Kafka is pumping gas in the next lane. Things don't look so good. He's tracking me.
I get really desperate and start to ask truckers.
"I don't have any rolling papers sonny but I've got a pipe."
"Thanks anyway."
"My friend has some papers though, but he's in the cab of his truck with his wife and I don't wanna disturb 'em, they're probably fucking."
"Thanks for your help."
I get to bed early (before 10am). Better take it easy tonight. My left leg is really hurting. I think I must have destroyed it at the gig last night. It's painful to walk. Feels like a hernia. Great.
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