Introductions first: I am Dark Meat’s piccolo player, I have yet to use my biology degree, and two weeks ago I was an elementary school substitute teacher. Now I live in a bus with twelve dudes, two women, and the un-nameable stench of their collective feet and farts. I’ll be here for two months.

In writing about our tour it would be dishonest to only mention the shows. They are the reason we get on the bus and go to another town, but most of touring is just that: getting on the bus and going to another town. All of our shows have been great so far, but they’re only part of the experience. Outside of those 40 minutes each night, we have to figure out how to live together in an oversized tin can without losing more than our socks. It only works because we really do love each other.

Traveling with this many people is an exercise in waiting. I wait to get on the bus, wait to get off the bus, wait to pee, wait for food, wait to carry drums and guitars up and down stairs, and wait to find out where we’re going tonight (and that’s a story for another time). It tries my nearly infinite patience sometimes, but the frustration is tempered by constant laughter. Laughter, along with beer, water and coffee, is how we survive.

The shows, the music, that thing we all live for.

My favorite so far was Friday night in Providence, Rhode Island. It was a packed art space, the crowd was gnarly, and everyone ripped it. We’re on tour with Monotonix, a three-piece from Tel Aviv, Israel, who are my new favorite band, and I think Friday was the perfection of their art. I’ve seen them light things on fire, dump trash on each other, swing from the rafters, and fuck with anyone who looks like he might still be holding on to some shred of propriety and self control, but the crowd that night made the Israelis look tame. I danced, and sweated, and got kicked in the head, and slammed into people and poles, but what I really remember is the elation and pure animal passion of an enormous collective energy exploding in a blast of joy, aggression, beer, and bodies. Everyone went away with a wet shirt and a grin. That kind of show is why I do what I do.

Tonight we’ll play in Norfolk, Virginia. Hopefully we’ll swim in the ocean under the quarter moon late at night. Hopefully the people in this room will keep passing the guitar around. Hopefully I’ll get to piss in the next 10 minutes. But what I’m most excited about is seeing my three Israeli brothers again.