Sunday, July 3, 2011

The More I Play In Port Angeles.....

The more I miss Nevada.

Case in point - just finished practice about an hour ago, and then moved our gear to our new practice space. Our new lead singer, Mark Connolly, decided not to join us. These guys aren't great with their punctuality - it's something I've been working on with them for some time now - but Mark just didn't seem to be interested in showing up. So I drove halfway out to Joyce to go check on him. Where he announced to me that he was no longer interested in the group because in his words, we were 'unreliable'. "How so?", I asked. Well, nobody told him that there was a practice scheduled for today. I told him that I'd tried on several occasions to call and text him, only for calls to not even go to voicemail, and text messages be rejected! He claimed to have 'texted us until he was blue in the face' and claimed not to even have my number - which was an outright lie, because I'd given it to him at practice last Sunday. I chose not to argue the point and walked away, rather than tear him a new asshole right then and there. I'll have my revenge on him shortly.

Y'see, Mark is a methamphetamine addict. He told me so, when he originally lobbied us for the gig. Since I was already busy refuting rumors that Dirty Joe was a 'meth band', I really didn't want to let him into the group for obvious reasons. But Ron and Roger's insistence on giving him a shot because of his ability as a singer, plus his insistent claims that his meth use wouldn't affect the band won out - for all of one practice, it turns out. Well now the whole world knows, motherfucker. Good luck ever getting another gig again. Fred Phelps Award winners like you don't deserve the charity or pity.

That said, practice went pretty good without him. Tom Swinford is settling back in to being our bassist for as long as John Eddy is unavailable due to health issues within his family. But getting the next practice scheduled made Ron a very sullen boy, not at all interested in the process. But he's got his own issues - moving again - so I guess I could give him a pass. But not when he decided not to bother helping us pile our stuff into Roger's van so we could move to the new practice space, then basically started badgering our friend (and occasional videographer) Bev to get her to cook dinner for him - which she was not interested in whatsoever.

After today, I just can't wait to get back down to Nevada and gig with Steppen Stonz. Three nights next weekend at the CVI, followed by a weekender at Casino Fandango in Carson City, with Hot August Nights at the Nugget in Sparks looming on the horizon. And I keep hearing rumors from friends that new gigs are on their way, but rumors don't pay my bills. But I can look on the bright side of all this. With rehearsals in Washington and gigs in Nevada, at least I'm not camping at my various family campouts this summer.

I fucking hate camping.

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