Showing posts with label hue. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hue. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
hali hali
Quick Update!
We're currently in Halifax, Nova Scotia! We've been put up by Darcy's aunt and uncle, who are quite possibly the most accommodating people in the east coast. They've welcomed us into their home with open arms and have shown us some of the best Halifax has to offer.
I'll go into further detail later. Possibly after we take the Alexander Keith's Brewery Tour. You're jealous.
I'll go into further detail later. Possibly after we take the Alexander Keith's Brewery Tour. You're jealous.
Anderson.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
T.C.H.
Sadly, we're back on the Trans Canada Highway. And for the first time this tour, we're heading west. However, there are some stories to be told.
St. Johns was honestly a fucking blast, and I really mean it because I use my cusses somewhat selectively in my writing. Everything, from start to finish, was straight up fun.
I should first mention a funny story. Somewhere during the drive from Corner Brook to St. Johns, we were listening to the local 103.9 radio station. Turns out it was all-request-hour. I semi-jokingly told Dan to call in with a request. After some slight hesitation, the call was made. We weren't exactly sure how popular this request station was and if our call would ever be heard, but oh was it ever.
103.9: "This next request is quite interesting, give it a listen"
DP: "Hey there this is Danny from the band Hue. Me and the boys are just here from Toronto playing some shows and we'd love to hear some Boney M: Rapsutin."
103.9: "That is the best request ever"
Dan and I used to listen to Rasputin for hours in high school, so naturally we chose that song over even more Steve Miller Band. We recorded a small snippet of their conversation, which is just hilarious. I'll see if I can post it one day. It turns out that the same Boney M album was the stations Dj's first album. Needless to say, they played our request and we banged heads to the theme of Russia's greatest love machine.
Upon our arrival, we checked into a fantastic hostel. Everyone working there were overly hospitable. The owner, Dave, was a super cheery guy, and ran one hell of a unit. This particular hostel had a few interesting perks: every bed included a towel (which is unheard of in the hosteling world - usually it's either you bring your own, or plan out your drip-dry session), was located directly downtown, and each room had a (full) beer fridge. Wicked. Good hostels are hard to come by.
One thing that went really well on this trip was the Screech. I set fairly high expectations for this occasion, seeing as I was underaged my last visit to Newfoundland and couldn't drink the rum. We rolled up to a liquor store downtown in hopes of finding some Screech (the rum itself). One of the employees asked if we were from out of town (Darce thought we were about to get I.D'd), and if we wanted to participate in a Screeching ceremony downstairs. Hells yes miss, we do. The three of us ventured downstairs to a cellar filled with memorabilia, liquor, and old people. Looked about right. We were greeted by Buela, the host of the event, who confessed to be from the year 1892. Proper!
The whole process was there: the background of the liquor (Screech apparently came from the sound American settlers would make when drinking it), the kissing of the cod (except ours was unfortunately made from wood), the pre-liquor phrase, and then the rum itself (which ain't half bad - if you're at 26.5 this summer, you may just get a taste). We regrettably didn't have a camera on us, because we weren't planning on taking picture of ourselves buying booze. Oh well. At least we got certificates. Mine was signed "Eastwood".
I should mention we forfeited two shows in St. Johns. The venue simply was never meant to be played in. No microphones, no rugs, no place to watch from, no place to play, no P.A. system. Just people sitting and eating. We didn't even introduce ourselves to the staff. We just ate panini and got the fuck out of there.
We were hungry for shows. Buela told us to check out a place called CBTG's. And check we did. We went out that night to check out the venue. For those of you who know your Toronto, it was almost exactly like the upstairs of Sneaky Dee's, except totally backwards. Everything from the grungy floors to the tiny wooden stage, that is always on the brink of giving way. The bathrooms were barely there. Wood panelling separated the boys room from the girls, and there were holes in pretty much everything that could have holes in it.
Aside from us talking to the staff about playing the next night, I remember drunkenly chewing poor sober-Danny's ear off about how much flavor St. Johns has, which is true. For those of you who don't know (and I didn't either), St. Johns is the oldest English city in North America. The residents have their own very distinct dialect which, at times, is almost inaudible to the ears. The harbors are littered with fishing boats that just wreak of authenticity. The canons of Signal Hill actually sunk invading ships back in the day, and there are enough original Newfy sing-alongs to put a Christian songbook to shame. There's seriously flavor in that city. Ask anyone who lives there.
That night, Dan met one of the performers of the night. His name was Thom Coombes. Dan mentioned that we were a touring band from Ontario and Thom graciously asked if we needed a place for tomorrow night. Considering the hostel was costing us over a hundred dollars a night, we gladly excepted. That's called Eastern hospitality. When was the last time you invited three strangers into your house after only a minute of conversation? Me neither.
After a few calls were made on our behalf to CBTG's, we had ourselves a show the next night. Beauty.
The day of the show we trekked up to Signal Hill. What a great day. The three of us spent a few hours on the hill simply enjoying the sights. On one side you have the entire St. Johns landscape and harbor. On the other you have an uninterrupted view of the ocean. I won't go on about how auspicious the sight of the ocean really is, because you really have to sit there for yourself and marvel at it's massiveness. I decided to go for a hike down some of the parks trails. After ascending to the coast, my curiosity lead me down another path - one that I would soon regret. What I ended doing was partaking in a "Coastal Walk", except backwards. I walked for so long that I went all the way from the foot of the ocean to some scuzzy place called the Battery Hotel and Lodgings. I called the boys, warning them that I had no idea where I was, or where I'd end up. Ten minutes later I called from the side of some road for a ride. My feet took the brunt of the hike. Stan 2's were never meant to scale coastline the way I did. Let's just say there's a good reason why my big toe is still wrapped in napkins and electrical tape.
Later that night we played our set at CB's. Fun show. Really hot, really tight, and loud as hell. Just the way I like my pants. Met some really cool people and had a lot of fun times.
Afterwards we went back to Thom's place, which also coincidentally held the number 26 address. I can't really put into words how much fun that night was. Amongst Thom was his hilarious housemates Bart, Megan, Dave, and Danielle. Their house was an expressive junction of creativity, imagination, and clutter, aside from being incredibly cheap to live in. I think I shot an entire roll of film that night documenting all the rooms. The majority of the night was spent in their living room bouncing between beers, laughter, rolling joints, stories, spinning records, smoking cigarettes, and general tomfoolery. Everyone living in that house had their own special brand of comedic genius, which mostly revolved around a "nothing to hide" mentality. Right around the time the sun came up (which was monumental because we were one of the first in the Western Hemisphere to see it), we headed to the nearest gas station for chips and beef jerky. My body was literally crying the next day from the amount of sodium coming from eating a bag of Scream Cheese Doritoes.
We woke up the next day around 3pm to go for a pleasure cruise. We found ourselves a nice little spot by the ocean to skip rocks and accidentally get soakers. After that we went back up to Signal Hill to sit in the van, listen to records, and stare at the ocean. There wasn't really another option for our last day in that city.
Afterwards we set up around 11pm for our next show at CBTG's, which is an unheard of time set up for a show in Ontario, but the bars do serve licka until 3am here, so the shows go on, and on. However, aside from some technical difficulties, we pulled together a solid show. Again, cool people, fun times, and lots of flavor.
We're now heading back to Corner Brook. We're playing our second show at Dooly's tonight, which should be interesting, because we're performing right before UFC 100 airs, which can mean one of two things: Either the people there to see the fight (which means everyone in the bar) will get really hyped up before the fight by listening to some rock, or I'll catch another bottle in the chest - except this time it'll be on purpose.
St. Johns was honestly a fucking blast, and I really mean it because I use my cusses somewhat selectively in my writing. Everything, from start to finish, was straight up fun.
I should first mention a funny story. Somewhere during the drive from Corner Brook to St. Johns, we were listening to the local 103.9 radio station. Turns out it was all-request-hour. I semi-jokingly told Dan to call in with a request. After some slight hesitation, the call was made. We weren't exactly sure how popular this request station was and if our call would ever be heard, but oh was it ever.
103.9: "This next request is quite interesting, give it a listen"
DP: "Hey there this is Danny from the band Hue. Me and the boys are just here from Toronto playing some shows and we'd love to hear some Boney M: Rapsutin."
103.9: "That is the best request ever"
Dan and I used to listen to Rasputin for hours in high school, so naturally we chose that song over even more Steve Miller Band. We recorded a small snippet of their conversation, which is just hilarious. I'll see if I can post it one day. It turns out that the same Boney M album was the stations Dj's first album. Needless to say, they played our request and we banged heads to the theme of Russia's greatest love machine.
Upon our arrival, we checked into a fantastic hostel. Everyone working there were overly hospitable. The owner, Dave, was a super cheery guy, and ran one hell of a unit. This particular hostel had a few interesting perks: every bed included a towel (which is unheard of in the hosteling world - usually it's either you bring your own, or plan out your drip-dry session), was located directly downtown, and each room had a (full) beer fridge. Wicked. Good hostels are hard to come by.
One thing that went really well on this trip was the Screech. I set fairly high expectations for this occasion, seeing as I was underaged my last visit to Newfoundland and couldn't drink the rum. We rolled up to a liquor store downtown in hopes of finding some Screech (the rum itself). One of the employees asked if we were from out of town (Darce thought we were about to get I.D'd), and if we wanted to participate in a Screeching ceremony downstairs. Hells yes miss, we do. The three of us ventured downstairs to a cellar filled with memorabilia, liquor, and old people. Looked about right. We were greeted by Buela, the host of the event, who confessed to be from the year 1892. Proper!
The whole process was there: the background of the liquor (Screech apparently came from the sound American settlers would make when drinking it), the kissing of the cod (except ours was unfortunately made from wood), the pre-liquor phrase, and then the rum itself (which ain't half bad - if you're at 26.5 this summer, you may just get a taste). We regrettably didn't have a camera on us, because we weren't planning on taking picture of ourselves buying booze. Oh well. At least we got certificates. Mine was signed "Eastwood".
I should mention we forfeited two shows in St. Johns. The venue simply was never meant to be played in. No microphones, no rugs, no place to watch from, no place to play, no P.A. system. Just people sitting and eating. We didn't even introduce ourselves to the staff. We just ate panini and got the fuck out of there.
We were hungry for shows. Buela told us to check out a place called CBTG's. And check we did. We went out that night to check out the venue. For those of you who know your Toronto, it was almost exactly like the upstairs of Sneaky Dee's, except totally backwards. Everything from the grungy floors to the tiny wooden stage, that is always on the brink of giving way. The bathrooms were barely there. Wood panelling separated the boys room from the girls, and there were holes in pretty much everything that could have holes in it.
Aside from us talking to the staff about playing the next night, I remember drunkenly chewing poor sober-Danny's ear off about how much flavor St. Johns has, which is true. For those of you who don't know (and I didn't either), St. Johns is the oldest English city in North America. The residents have their own very distinct dialect which, at times, is almost inaudible to the ears. The harbors are littered with fishing boats that just wreak of authenticity. The canons of Signal Hill actually sunk invading ships back in the day, and there are enough original Newfy sing-alongs to put a Christian songbook to shame. There's seriously flavor in that city. Ask anyone who lives there.
That night, Dan met one of the performers of the night. His name was Thom Coombes. Dan mentioned that we were a touring band from Ontario and Thom graciously asked if we needed a place for tomorrow night. Considering the hostel was costing us over a hundred dollars a night, we gladly excepted. That's called Eastern hospitality. When was the last time you invited three strangers into your house after only a minute of conversation? Me neither.
After a few calls were made on our behalf to CBTG's, we had ourselves a show the next night. Beauty.
The day of the show we trekked up to Signal Hill. What a great day. The three of us spent a few hours on the hill simply enjoying the sights. On one side you have the entire St. Johns landscape and harbor. On the other you have an uninterrupted view of the ocean. I won't go on about how auspicious the sight of the ocean really is, because you really have to sit there for yourself and marvel at it's massiveness. I decided to go for a hike down some of the parks trails. After ascending to the coast, my curiosity lead me down another path - one that I would soon regret. What I ended doing was partaking in a "Coastal Walk", except backwards. I walked for so long that I went all the way from the foot of the ocean to some scuzzy place called the Battery Hotel and Lodgings. I called the boys, warning them that I had no idea where I was, or where I'd end up. Ten minutes later I called from the side of some road for a ride. My feet took the brunt of the hike. Stan 2's were never meant to scale coastline the way I did. Let's just say there's a good reason why my big toe is still wrapped in napkins and electrical tape.
Later that night we played our set at CB's. Fun show. Really hot, really tight, and loud as hell. Just the way I like my pants. Met some really cool people and had a lot of fun times.
Afterwards we went back to Thom's place, which also coincidentally held the number 26 address. I can't really put into words how much fun that night was. Amongst Thom was his hilarious housemates Bart, Megan, Dave, and Danielle. Their house was an expressive junction of creativity, imagination, and clutter, aside from being incredibly cheap to live in. I think I shot an entire roll of film that night documenting all the rooms. The majority of the night was spent in their living room bouncing between beers, laughter, rolling joints, stories, spinning records, smoking cigarettes, and general tomfoolery. Everyone living in that house had their own special brand of comedic genius, which mostly revolved around a "nothing to hide" mentality. Right around the time the sun came up (which was monumental because we were one of the first in the Western Hemisphere to see it), we headed to the nearest gas station for chips and beef jerky. My body was literally crying the next day from the amount of sodium coming from eating a bag of Scream Cheese Doritoes.
We woke up the next day around 3pm to go for a pleasure cruise. We found ourselves a nice little spot by the ocean to skip rocks and accidentally get soakers. After that we went back up to Signal Hill to sit in the van, listen to records, and stare at the ocean. There wasn't really another option for our last day in that city.
Afterwards we set up around 11pm for our next show at CBTG's, which is an unheard of time set up for a show in Ontario, but the bars do serve licka until 3am here, so the shows go on, and on. However, aside from some technical difficulties, we pulled together a solid show. Again, cool people, fun times, and lots of flavor.
We're now heading back to Corner Brook. We're playing our second show at Dooly's tonight, which should be interesting, because we're performing right before UFC 100 airs, which can mean one of two things: Either the people there to see the fight (which means everyone in the bar) will get really hyped up before the fight by listening to some rock, or I'll catch another bottle in the chest - except this time it'll be on purpose.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
signal hill
I'd been here many years ago.
Usually when you see distant places as a child, the memories you keep seem to either sour or sweeten over time. When you're a kid, you're never really interested in towns foreign to you. All you really care about is what you are missing back home. The sleep-overs, the game releases, shit like that. This is the same reason I'll never take my youngsters on vacations to Europe until they reach the age of appreciation (I say that now).
Until only weeks ago, memories began to flood back about this town.
I remembered more than most towns. Smells, streets, directions, and the severe steepness of the hills. I really didn't know what to expect upon rolling into the downtown core, but the sights sure haven't changed much over the years. It's still beautiful.
We immediately headed for Signal Hill upon arriving into St. Johns. My uncle was married on this hill many years ago, and I remember it like it were yesterday. Such an incredible sight. On the left you see a structure that resembles a medieval Scottish castle, subdued by the ocean pouring into the city. On the right you'll see the beautiful harbor and all the bustle that is the St. Johns interior. Kind of like Vancouver, except cheaper with less pretentious assholes.
The only real point to this entry is to say that St. Johns, Newfoundland is a wonderful place. We're here now, hosteling (Dan and I are owning here), and enjoying a shitty bottle of XOXO wine. We're about to walk the town like dirty sailors and hopefully get Screeched (look it up if unsure). We'll be here for a few days, so I trust you'll all be flying out to party.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Dear East Coast, Part 1
So far so good.
Our tour of the east coast has, so far, gone without a hitch. Actually, it's had many hitches. Trailer hitches! Terrible joke.
After a slightly rocky start involving break lights, Canadian Tire, and a mechanic named Marc, we were on the road. Darcy and I have been driving like true champions. Par example: We drove from Kingston, Ontario to St. George, New Brunswick in one day. Considering that we're pulling a trailer as heavy as our own van, it took us a considerably longer time than expected. 20 hours straight to be exact.
Once finished, it really was worth it. We worked in roughly five hour-long shifts behind the wheel. For those of you who know at least minimal Canadian geography, we also drove through Quebec. We planned on stopping in Montreal for some lunch, but the two hours it took just to squeeze through the rush hour traffic scared us pretty straight. Maybe on the way back. Quebec was awesome though. We stopped in some smaller towns to nab some food and gas. This also meant that we had to squeeze every ounce of the French language out of our heads. Yet, to be totally honest, I really love that about foreign territory (both literally and figuratively).
It's really quite a thrill to challenge yourself in such scenarios. We went to Subway for dinner that night. Before we arrived, I mustered up as many phrases, subjunctives, verbs, questions, and items in my head as possible. The girl working spoke very little English, so I did my best to accommodate her. Let's just say I ended up with a douze-inch jambon sub, sur neuf-grain pain, avec concombres, fromage, tomates, olives, sel et poivre. Life is funny like that.
After that, we drove all night. I don't recall if I wrote anything about driving all night last summer on the way to Vancouver, but I really dislike it for many reasons. For starters, it really fucks with your sleep pattern. On top of that, if the back seat of your van is filled with coolers and merchandise boxes, you're in for an awful nap. I didn't sleep a wink because I'm over 6' tall boy crammed into a 3' compartment. Outside of the sleep, you have to worry about hitting animals. Seeing as we were driving through the marshes and woods, we were in prime deer and moose territory. Warning signs litter the highway for hours.
The only thing harder than looking out for animals all night is the actual staying awake part. If my memory serves me, I began my portion of driving around 2:30 AM. As we stopped to refill our tank, I stared coldly into my least favorite section of any convenience store: the energy drinks. For those of you who know me, even badly, know that I steer away from energy drinks to save my heart from beating out of control. But alas, I needed something to keep me from dreaming behind the wheel. I settled on Monster mostly for traditions-sake. BK and I drank that last summer on our only one-nighter through north Ontario, so I drank that for my brosky. Let's just say it worked.
We cut our way through the fog and rolled into St. George around 6:30 in the morning. We rolled up to some parking lot and (tried to) sleep.
Several hours later we set up camp in the most ghetto trailer park I'd ever seen, which is just fine. Water and hydro is all we really need. Once set up, we showed up for soundcheck at Paul's Wharf. We honestly didn't expect much from this show. St. George is a super small town, full of weird people that just sit on street corners. The venue was pretty much what we expected: ski-lodge interior, a big Jager banner, a semi-hot bartender (the kind that drunk old perv-bots find beddable), video lottery machines, a dusty old patio, one really drunk guy, and a menu filled with fried shit. The place maybe sees a dozen different guys on a daily basis, because the ones who do show up just get drunk and pump quarters all day.
Aside from first impressions, the show went fantastic. Lots of people showed up, payed the cover, and enjoyed the show. Morton our sound man provided us with excellent monitors. Many stuck around for both of our sets, and even bought some albums. Between our two sets I smoked some cheeb with the locals, which proved for a very interesting second set. Let's just say the first 15 minutes were spent over-dubbing the various club tracks that were playing. We made a substantial amount of loot to boot, because we apparently took in all of the money at the door.
Kim, the wonderful organizer and bartender, was so hospitable in every way. She hooked us up with a bunch of contacts along the way, gave us free coffee with breakfast this morning, and let us in on the free Joel Plaskett show in St. Johns on Canada Day.
Like I said. So far so good. More to come, I just need more battery life.
Our tour of the east coast has, so far, gone without a hitch. Actually, it's had many hitches. Trailer hitches! Terrible joke.
After a slightly rocky start involving break lights, Canadian Tire, and a mechanic named Marc, we were on the road. Darcy and I have been driving like true champions. Par example: We drove from Kingston, Ontario to St. George, New Brunswick in one day. Considering that we're pulling a trailer as heavy as our own van, it took us a considerably longer time than expected. 20 hours straight to be exact.
Once finished, it really was worth it. We worked in roughly five hour-long shifts behind the wheel. For those of you who know at least minimal Canadian geography, we also drove through Quebec. We planned on stopping in Montreal for some lunch, but the two hours it took just to squeeze through the rush hour traffic scared us pretty straight. Maybe on the way back. Quebec was awesome though. We stopped in some smaller towns to nab some food and gas. This also meant that we had to squeeze every ounce of the French language out of our heads. Yet, to be totally honest, I really love that about foreign territory (both literally and figuratively).
It's really quite a thrill to challenge yourself in such scenarios. We went to Subway for dinner that night. Before we arrived, I mustered up as many phrases, subjunctives, verbs, questions, and items in my head as possible. The girl working spoke very little English, so I did my best to accommodate her. Let's just say I ended up with a douze-inch jambon sub, sur neuf-grain pain, avec concombres, fromage, tomates, olives, sel et poivre. Life is funny like that.
After that, we drove all night. I don't recall if I wrote anything about driving all night last summer on the way to Vancouver, but I really dislike it for many reasons. For starters, it really fucks with your sleep pattern. On top of that, if the back seat of your van is filled with coolers and merchandise boxes, you're in for an awful nap. I didn't sleep a wink because I'm over 6' tall boy crammed into a 3' compartment. Outside of the sleep, you have to worry about hitting animals. Seeing as we were driving through the marshes and woods, we were in prime deer and moose territory. Warning signs litter the highway for hours.
The only thing harder than looking out for animals all night is the actual staying awake part. If my memory serves me, I began my portion of driving around 2:30 AM. As we stopped to refill our tank, I stared coldly into my least favorite section of any convenience store: the energy drinks. For those of you who know me, even badly, know that I steer away from energy drinks to save my heart from beating out of control. But alas, I needed something to keep me from dreaming behind the wheel. I settled on Monster mostly for traditions-sake. BK and I drank that last summer on our only one-nighter through north Ontario, so I drank that for my brosky. Let's just say it worked.
We cut our way through the fog and rolled into St. George around 6:30 in the morning. We rolled up to some parking lot and (tried to) sleep.
Several hours later we set up camp in the most ghetto trailer park I'd ever seen, which is just fine. Water and hydro is all we really need. Once set up, we showed up for soundcheck at Paul's Wharf. We honestly didn't expect much from this show. St. George is a super small town, full of weird people that just sit on street corners. The venue was pretty much what we expected: ski-lodge interior, a big Jager banner, a semi-hot bartender (the kind that drunk old perv-bots find beddable), video lottery machines, a dusty old patio, one really drunk guy, and a menu filled with fried shit. The place maybe sees a dozen different guys on a daily basis, because the ones who do show up just get drunk and pump quarters all day.
Aside from first impressions, the show went fantastic. Lots of people showed up, payed the cover, and enjoyed the show. Morton our sound man provided us with excellent monitors. Many stuck around for both of our sets, and even bought some albums. Between our two sets I smoked some cheeb with the locals, which proved for a very interesting second set. Let's just say the first 15 minutes were spent over-dubbing the various club tracks that were playing. We made a substantial amount of loot to boot, because we apparently took in all of the money at the door.
Kim, the wonderful organizer and bartender, was so hospitable in every way. She hooked us up with a bunch of contacts along the way, gave us free coffee with breakfast this morning, and let us in on the free Joel Plaskett show in St. Johns on Canada Day.
Like I said. So far so good. More to come, I just need more battery life.
Friday, May 1, 2009
back to the futuren
Okez-dokez. Seeing as I am in Frankfurt, Germanz, I am using the hotel kezboard and the kezs are all mixed up. Most obviouslz, the place of the Y key has been swapped for the Z key, for speed and linguistic reasons. So Iäm choosing not to edit anz of this post for pure comedic reasons.
Ive also chosen not to skim through cities as I've been doing latelz. Thez're all amaying places and deserve proper right ups, so I will visit them all at later dates when I'm good and readz.
But reallz, Slovakia, Hungarz, Cyech Republic, Austria, and Germanz have all been incrediblz beauitful. There have been so manz hilights along the waz and so manz rolls of film taken. I plan to set aside a sum of monez to get these rolls processed when I get home, mostlz so thez don't end up in the bin of exposed film downstairs in the studio - which I've never had the time or monez to process mzself.
So zes, tonight will be the last night in the European Union before embarking on to the United Kingdom for four dazs. We'll be in downtown London near South Kensington for that remainder of time. To be honest I have no idea what we're doing. I'll probablz end up doing what I do in everz citz: get all buyyed up on cheap beer and go running around the citz for an hour or two. This is bz far the fastest, easiest, most amusing waz to see the sights and mazbe even get into a little trouble while zou're at it.
Also, if anzone would like a postcard, send zour info to me and I'll do mz absolute best to get them out.
Furthermore, another reason to have a beer in celebration: Hue was accepted to plaz at NXNE this summer. Boo za ka sha.
Ive also chosen not to skim through cities as I've been doing latelz. Thez're all amaying places and deserve proper right ups, so I will visit them all at later dates when I'm good and readz.
But reallz, Slovakia, Hungarz, Cyech Republic, Austria, and Germanz have all been incrediblz beauitful. There have been so manz hilights along the waz and so manz rolls of film taken. I plan to set aside a sum of monez to get these rolls processed when I get home, mostlz so thez don't end up in the bin of exposed film downstairs in the studio - which I've never had the time or monez to process mzself.
So zes, tonight will be the last night in the European Union before embarking on to the United Kingdom for four dazs. We'll be in downtown London near South Kensington for that remainder of time. To be honest I have no idea what we're doing. I'll probablz end up doing what I do in everz citz: get all buyyed up on cheap beer and go running around the citz for an hour or two. This is bz far the fastest, easiest, most amusing waz to see the sights and mazbe even get into a little trouble while zou're at it.
Also, if anzone would like a postcard, send zour info to me and I'll do mz absolute best to get them out.
Furthermore, another reason to have a beer in celebration: Hue was accepted to plaz at NXNE this summer. Boo za ka sha.
pps. since this post is boring as hell so far, I should mention that I was sitting in Vienna enjoying a beer and Beyonce walked behind me. I said to a friend 'Oh hey, that was Beyonce'.
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