I can’t think of much to write, mostly because I am exhausted after 3.5 hours of sleep. I’m currently in the lobby of the hotel after checkout waiting for the rest of the Royals to emerge from their drunken slumbers.
Played Fred Rock Fest with a bunch of dope DJs and met some really cool people. I finally performed in “the pink one” which was my kind of “they might freak out” costume, so I feel as though I jumped a hurdle on that one haha. As a note further to this note – it IS, like many of you speculate, quite difficult to navigate the choreography in 5.5 inch spike stilettos, but somehow it is done, night after night. So to the myriad of other performers who join me in this dangerous and exciting sport – I SALUTE YOU.
Arrived in Halifax to more of the dreary rain that has been a constant on this leg of the journey. I read a weather report yesterday that claimed that we were in for a “Goldilocks kind of a summer… not too hot, not too cold”… All the more reason to get the hell outta Dodge if you know what I mean. Actually, I don’t even know what I mean. What is Dodge? Why are we leaving it? I’ve had too little sleep to properly research this. Get back to me on it.
Halifax is a quite difficult city to navigate, I would imagine, under the best possible conditions, but add the rain, the wonk GPS and three hotels of the same chain within a 2km radius. (That’s like 5 miles, I think, but don’t take it as gospel because I know NOTHING about increments of distance and their nonmetric counterparts. You will totally fail the exam.) After checking in and falling asleep in my gorgeousest bed yet (there’s something about coming off a plane and having one crappy hotel room that makes the next two palatial in comparison, even if it’s just like, the Radisson or something), I order the WOST ROOM SERVICE TO DATE!!!
I’m about to get like Sophia from The Golden Girls. Picture it. Halifax. 2009. Opening the menu for room service for the inevitable one vegetarian selection that is probably made with beef stock anyway (or fish stock, likely in this part of the world). Room service hates me because I ask questions they don’t know how to answer and have to ask someone else to get a quasi-agreeable response from me (I always sound sketchy when ordering food because there’s so much I don’t eat). No, there is no animal product. No, we don’t have soymilk. Oh you’re with “the music people”? Maybe I can get you soymilk. We don’t usually allow guests to salt and pepper their own food. Why would anyone want hot sauce? These are part of the question-answer fandango that I assume as a rule do not come as part and parcel with “hey.. this is room 420. I want the surf and turf burger with extra deep fried onion rings”.
Soundcheck is good, but our poor DJ is having to be sound tech in part, because their sound guy is needed at the Fred Rock Fest. My one saving grace? Knowing that FINALLY, after about six months of chasing each other on Skype from city to city, Care Failure and I are, completely by happy accident, in the same city at the same time. She comes over to my hotel. REUNION! The last time we had seen each other it had been over many bottles of Veuve on top of the Spoke Club patio, so my hotel room overlooking the “fancy” restaurant in the hotel is a bit of a dive in comparison. Comparasitical, even.
Show = The last one on tour. While I would have liked to go out with a bigger bang, the rain disallowed for too much of a giant crowd, though the majority of those there were dancing. Got Care up on stage in one of several compromising positions. When the last song is sung, we sneak back to our area, snag up the last of the booze and food, and Care and I hightail it to a late-night photoshoot (the only time we ever have time for anything is at weird times like 330AM in a rainstorm in Halifax, obviously. Such is our lifestyle, I suppose) among dead mannequins and chickenwired posters of Obama declaring hope. It should be interesting to see the results minus the vodka and tequila.
Made a homeless man a Tofurkey sandwich on croissant on the road and watched some drunk drivers plow headfirst into an undercover cop car, which is made funny by the fact that they were only doing 25K/h (it would have been tragic except all they did was fuck up both of the cars and I doubt anyone was hurt.. just drunk and dumb…and CAUGHT! World’s Dumbest Traffic Violations anyone?)
I come home to the hotel around 4 and sleep is completely elusive with flight ititeraries to check, emails to send off, etc etc.. my mind is spinning, and it’s not frm the vodka. I am experiencing my first tour hangover, exhausted by travel and performance. Next stop, Pearson Intl Airport in Toronto, which I never thought I’d be happy to see. Lets get through Halifax, and I’ll see you at the MMVA afterparties tonight.
Thanks for following the tour blog and my random observations, hope to update you on more randomness ASAP! Kisses from the missus!