Tonight we played in Charleston, West Virginia at the Empty Glass. We got a nice write-up in the Charleston Daily Mail, but nonetheless there was little turnout for the show. Someone actually said “Okay, I’m outta here” in the middle of my second or third song. That was particularly delightful. I get off on that kinda shit.
After I played I kept having pretty overwhelming feelings of self-doubt, wondering what the hell I’m doing and just wanting to go home. For a little while I went outside and ate leftover chinese food in a dark corner of the patio and that somehow made me feel a little better.
Now I’m flopped out on the world’s second nastiest mattress in one of the rooms above the bar. A little while ago when I was on the phone talking to Laura about New Kids on the Block, some guy walked by, presumably returning to his room from the bathroom, and said “I put some asswipe in there for you guys.” “Thanks,” I said. I peeked into his room and saw two female legs with white footie socks on sprawled out on the bed. Presumably they connected to some girl at some point out of my range of sight. But maybe the dude has a mannequin fetish, I dunno.