Rising in Hotel Acceptable at 06.56, bags down at 08.30 and onto Tourbus This-Is-Not-The-Bus-We-Were-Promised-Nor-What-We-Paid-For-Ahead-Of-Time. Unpacking in Suite Dismal, my allocated space. To spend three weeks in this space without windows and with no natural light, for one of my sensitivities, is close to crippling. If I attributed intention to this, it would be to deter me from undertaking another public outing in the US.
Perhaps a burning question from one of our audients tonight in Boston: where is Tourbus Quite Acceptable, the one promised to That Awful Man and his Very Nice Manager? The answer: Gavin is on it, touring with Porcupine Tree. I am very happy for my Crimson Brother Gavin.
So dismal is life in Suite Dismal, other than for sleeping and dribbling pitifully as Covid kicked in, I have moved to the forward lounge for our journeying to Boston this morning, where there are windows. Joy!
Following our first overnight from Toronto to Montreal, I woke with red bumps on arms, leg and forehead. In fairness to our tourbus provider, the bed bugs came gratis.
This is what it is: the life of the touring player.
"Music is the cup which holds the wine of silence.
Sound is that cup, but empty.
Noise is that cup, but broken."
