Diary of a madman

I think it was around about November. I had just been to see Billy Bragg with his band, some of whom I was acquainted with, so a tasting of alcoholic beverages was on the menu until the wee hours of the morning.

Luckily, we were all staying in the same hotel, so I didn’t have far to crawl for slumber.

But before I drifted off, a text came from Jolie.

Would I like to be in her band for a month of shows around Europe in the springtime?

An immediate ‘yes’ was the answer.

It wasn’t long after that night when the Gelbs arrived on my doorstep, always a treat, them bringing the Arizona sunshine along in spirit.

What followed was a couple of gigs with the Gelbs and a road trip around the land where we sampled Guinness through a straw.

Sacrilege, I know, but don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.

Then, it was homeward when The Dead Goats played our first ever gig.

We’ve been a band for three years, so I guess it was about time.

But I couldn’t party afterwards, as it was off to London with some of the cast and crew of the film that we made a couple months prior.

A catch up.

A get together.

A sampling of alcohol and late rainy nights in Soho.

Upon returning, I had caught the dreaded infection and spent Christmas in bed.

No turkey for me.

The snow came and went.

I stayed in bed for weeks, until I felt recovered enough to play a gig in McCann’s with Jerome before anther trip to London, for yet another cast reunion.

It was around this time that the offer came from Ward to play with him in Arizona in February, where I just so happened to be headed for a cowboy wedding in the desert.

Yes was the immediate answer.

I spent the next month juggling family life with preparation for an upcoming album release, extra film shoots, artwork, videos, dealing with ongoing sickness, maniacs, psychopaths and freaks.

I somehow managed to stay reasonably sane through most of it.

A second and sold-out Dead Goat gig in Derry made me hungry for more, so it was welcoming that a few summer festivals were offered to us that night.

The immediate answer was yes.

Next thing I knew, I was back in Arizona.

The time had come.

Everything happened in little time.

Gigs.

Recordings.

Writings.

Drinkings.

Friends.

Family.

A cowboy wedding in the desert.

Numerous boxes were ticked without planning any of it.

Then I was thrust back on the plane homeward, but the party still hasn’t stopped.

Plans were made back there in the desert.

Yes was the immediate answer to all of it.

But no time to wait around.

I’ll see Jerome again in McCann’s this Friday for another run through some guitar noodlings, before Monday comes when I fly to Hamburg to meet Jolie and the band.

One month I’ll be gone for, across Europe.

I haven’t even looked at the itinerary.

I’m unaware of what cities will be hit. I just know there will be a lot of them.

Got some old friends from portland and Denmark who just so happen to also be in the band that jolie put together, so it’s a global reunion party while on the road playing music together.

Next time you hear from me I’ll be somewhere over there.

Not sure where.

Twenty-six gigs in total.

By the end of it, I will be either dead or a new person.