|  Day
12 - Friday, July 4th
Found
myself waking up in the van again,
wondering what led me to this sorry state
& why. What I did know, however, was
that this waking-up-in-the-van-shit was
quickly becoming habit-forming. Well after
we fucked around, ate leftover bar-b-que, &
smoked badass Pacific Northwest weed out
of an apple most of the morning, we took
off with our latest hostages, Mike (drummer
for Unida) & his nephew Benny, who
came along to help with merch & rock out.We
hit the highway with Waylon Jennings & Hank III
cranking, en route to yet another bar-b-que…this
time in Tacoma Washington. The ride lasted all of an hour
and a half, so we went straight to the patriotic party at
Derek’s house, where we were greeted with PBR on tap,
bratwurst, burgers, lemondrops, and more badass weed. That’s
one thing they definitely have an abundance of in these parts,
killer West Coast weed. By the time we arrived at the venue
that night we were totally obliterated. The joint, called
Hell’s Kitchen, was cool as shit, & loaded down
with flame & devil imagery. When Slipknot Paul told us
drinks were on him (actually his Roadrunner records credit
card), Curt and I took his words to heart, & started pounding
shots way before the show. The bartenders were more than generous
as well, pouring quadruple-sized shots. At some point I blacked
out, because I have ultra-vague memories of Dixie Witch….
then nothin.
Day
12 - Saturday July5th
Woke
up in the van (again) wondering what the fuck had happened
the night before. An inventory of my digital camera showed
the last picture I took was when the Witch was onstage. I
knew then & there that this was bad, because there was
a third band, Argonaut on before Unida
even played. So basically I knew I didn’t even make
it halfway through the show. The next thing I had to figure
out was whether I had w &ered around in a blackout making
a total idiot out of myself, or if I had the luck to pass
out before that happened. I was also curious as to whether
or not I had sold any merch at all. I turned on the computer
& noted that I hadn’t documented any merch sales
if there had been any. Curt was passed out on the floor of
the van next to me, so I woke his still-drunk-ass up &
asked him if he recollected what the fuck had happened. Curt’s
response was, “You’re asking the wrong person.
I must have passed out before we loaded out because I don’t
remember shit”. What totally sucked was that I missed
all of Unida’s set & I heard it was a good one…
with Paul so fucked up he sat down on the stage & played
while John Garcia fell into the drum kit), as well as all
the fireworks that were set off in the parking lot at 3 in
the morning, not to mention the third b&, Argonaut, whose
house we stayed at & who I had heard was badass. Luckily
I learned from Clay & Flea that they saw me nodding out
at the merch table, told me that I needed to go to the van
& pass out, & that I didn’t argue at all (that’s
a fucking first!). The fucking 4th of July &, not only
did I not see any fireworks, I missed out on the whole motherfucking
goddamned thing!
 The
mystery was solved for me when I banged on the door of the
house where both vans were parked, waking up our hosts, Br&on
& his wife, Holly, along with their daughters Taylor &
Jane. I found myself surrounded by Br&on’s badass
artwork, Powerpuff girls, Bob the Sponge, & ET artifacts,
watching Cheech & Chong & Spinaltap all day. Then
we took the all of 30 minute trip to Seattle to the gig at
the Crocodile with Argonaut (my second chance
to check them out), & Camarosmith (featuring ex-Zeke
members Jeff / bass & Donny Paycheck / drums).
Oh
yeah, I forgot to mention that during the Witch’s stint
with Dixie Witch there were two goofy filmmakers
following Unida around, doing a documentary
on them. I found out in Seattle (our last day together) that
their names were Chris Holmes & Brandon Trost. I had called
them the Man Bites Dog dudes the entire trip. It turns out
that these guys documented my blackout buddies (Curt and Slipknot
Paul, my codrinkers in 4th in July  crime);
primarily them carrying Paul into the house where he was summarily
dumped into one of the little girl’s fairy princess
beds, complete with a castle mural beside him. Needless to
say, he woke up very confused… but at least he woke
up with a medieval mosaic next to him, rather than Curt’s
equally burnt-out ass in a stinky old van that I find
myself waking up in more often than not.
The
Witch was more than well-received in the rainy-gloomy-but-fair-weathered-while-wewere-
there city of Seattle. Pat “Fucking” Brown (Camarosmith)
noted that Dixie Witch was his new favorite band and observed
that “they sound like a mix between Grand Funk Railroad
& The James Gang on high octane”. I really liked
that comment, & the fact that Pat “Motherfucking”
Brown had an Ace Frehley & an Iron Maiden tattoo, was
way easy on the eyes, & has a bad reputation as well.
I think he’s the partier in the band. Super-rock-star-god-
Marky Felchtone of motherfucking Zeke renown
was even there, giving a hearty thumbs-up to the southern
rock trio. John Garcia got up on stage & sang The Wheel
with the Witch. I guess the guys were getting sentimental
Although I didn’t get to see Unida (the merch was at
the other bar), I could hear them, & noticed that they
fucking slayed.
After
a killer set & a badass turn out / night in general, we
were unceremoniouly kicked out of the bar by the biggest motherfucking
assholes in club history, that worked there. Then there were
a series of tearful goodbyes, group photos, & Unida guys
telling Paul Slipknot, “You’re one of us! You’re
one of us!” while Felicia highkicked on top of their
U-haul.
 Day
14- Sunday, July 6th
Woke up feeling just like I had slept all of 2 hours &
had done a shot of whiskey just before crashing out (probably
because I had…at 7:00AM). I bid a sad farewell to Mark
StonerRock & Flea (he was to get her as far as Portland),
& staggered to the van en route to Missoula, Montana.
I decided to stay up & write, actually being allowed in
the front seat for a change. We took off through some badass
country, through the Cascades & past Lake Sammamish (the
location of the disappearance of the first known victims of
Ted Bundy, Denise Raslund & Janice Ott) & Snoqualmie
Pass (the location where appromatly 5 of his victims’
remains would resurface years later), through some awesomely
huge mountains & coniferous trees. Then through Eastern
WA., where there’s absolutely nothing but fields upon
fields, with signs that read “crop signs next fouteen
miles”. At least I had something to lookat- readthink-about.
The first sign said alfalfa, & thesecond, & then the
third, then there was wheat, then peppermint, then more alfalfa,
then potatoes, then more alfalfa (fuck is the only producer
of alfalfa Washington tate?)… & nothing fucking
else until Spokane, where at least we got to see more fucking
conifers goddammit! All the way through Idaho & mountainous
Montana, I slept & slept. Missoula took me by surprise.
I was expecting some crazy mountain gun-slinging freaks, &
instead I found the venue, Jay’s Place, plastered with
Texas bands from the Bulemics to East Side Suicides to The
Spiders to The Riverboat Gamblers to Boxcar Satan to Deathray
Davies to The Applicators to Slum City. It would
appear that Missoula would be the place to stop betwixt wherever
& whereer.
The opening band, Bacon & Egg, were totally
fucking kooky, consisting of an organ player, a killer guitar
player whose forte is actually the drums, an angry amputee
st &-in singer, & a fire breather. I kept wondering
what the fuck was going on & reminiscing about
Great White. I hung out with a cool cat named Chris,
aka Snacks, who sells exotic teas & ended up getting kicked
out of the bar at the end of the night (despite my protests
because he was the provider of the kind bud). Then we went
to some weird ass party. The coolest part was that the home-renter
(from Lawrence, KS) had virtually the same book collection
as me (with the exception of more Bukowskis & Burroughs)…fucker
 Day
15 - Monday, July 7th
We finally had a day off (the first one in two weeks straight),
but a 600+ mile drive ahead of us to make the next show in
Denver, CO. I’m sick as all fuck, & have no idea
how I’m going to make it to the end of the tour without
going to minor emergency. It seems like everything conceivable
ails me, & I can only chalk it up to partying for two
months in a row, being exposed to countless people & varying
weather conditions, & eating shit for food on a daily
basis. The only distraction for me is the killer countryside,
that Lewis & Clark discovered back in the 1800’s,
where the major industries are mining, ranching, logging,
& tourism…due to the large number of state parks
(Glacier Natl. Park., the Lolo Natl. forest) & historic
sites & monuments that this very under-populated state
possesses.
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