Communique from Germany

by Dom

> And so it quickly became apparent that the act of smoking inside establishments is yet to be repulsed in the quaint city of Vienna. A fact, while encouraging sympathy due to the unfathomable cold festering outside, made for a most regrettable time on stage. I find it most challenging on tour to maintain my personal odor in as inoffensive state as possible, at the best of times! With the added factor of playing in a haze of pungent cigarette smoke, the battle is already lost and my days become spent seeking out laundromats and soaping elements, so that my contemporaries don't perceive me as the most vile of all creatures.
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> From Vienna, our sights were set on Munich. Forever torturing us, treating us as pawns in the perverted game that is rock and roll, tour manager Matthew saw it fit to deprive us of the most basic of human needs, shelter!, and we were to drive straight to the venue, unshowered and lacking of sleep. Unsatisfied with this dire turn of events, I went for a brisk walk to quell my brooding disgust. It is fortunate then, that Munich is littered with marvelous architecture, everywhere the eye takes hold!, impossible to escape. Blinded by this beauty surrounding me, the horror suffered from not having a place to call home for the night was hushed, like a howling child given a pacifier.

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> On arrival the next day in Hamburg, news quickly spread amongst the community of the van that there was no show that night, and that we indeed had the night off!
> 'A night off? What is this foreign thing you speak of, a night off?" shyly chirped the young Nicholas Allbrook, nestled in the deep dark depths of the back corner, in the now fiendishly dank van. His mind, numbly adjusted to the routine of playing show after show after show each night was unable to grasp the concept of a night free to spend on his own pursuits of leisure.
> "I believe, honorable sir, that a night off means we are entirely free of obligations. That is to say, we can finally rest, recuperate and recharge for the inevitable onslaught that is due in the coming days." I swiftly replied.
> In response, betraying a face of bewilderment, the distinguished bass player only offered, "Incredible."
> And so, you must be asking, did we, as so gracefully phrased at the time, rest, recuperate and recharge on this once-in-a-lifetime chance of a night?
> Alas! For not even an hour into this mystical night off, the entire tour party could be found in the bar adjacent to the hotel, The Jolly Rodger, greedily slurping on the finest ales Germany has to offer.
> And while a jolly time was indeed had by all, so foolishly, the night did not result in the restoration of our bodies and souls, but on the very contrary, we awoke the next morning in a state of unwellness and dishevelment, a A result of the vicious alcohol, at the time so pleasing, liberating even! But somehow over the course of the night morphed into an enemy, a trojan horse already infiltrated inside of us, a vampire to wellbeing, sucking on the veins of what keeps us all in tact.
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Post Hamburg we played a festival in Germany, in a town I have completely no idea the name of (how entirely nescient of me). But, true, it was on the coast and there was a beach!, a true opal to the weary eye and a complete rarity when touring Europe. This beach I talk of made me somewhat nostalgic for home, and for a moment a tear swelled in my eye, although upon recollection I'm quite certain the tear arose, not from my yearning for home, but instead was a direct result of the ravaging winds, lashing at the senses. Walking the pier was a task in itself, requiring all of ones might just to hold steady without toppling over the edge, never to be seen again. It is for this reason alone I absolutely resolve to never return here, and how truly lucky it is, after all!, that I cannot recall the location of this wind ravaged beach..