a Library in Sheffield

I'm sitting here in a public library in Sheffield.

It's comforting to know
that wherever you go,
anywhere in the world,
libraries have the same smell.

It's that curious mixture of old books and stinky people.

I'm not feeling so well.

A bit too much partying and not enough sleeping
has left me with a trace of a cold.

We had to call off a stop at an open mic in
Leeds last night.

We slept for hours at a travelodge instead.

I've gotten two criticisms about this journal,
or blog, or whatever you call it.

The first was from one of the female rugby players in Bath.

She was very insulted that I said
she and her team mates smelled like grass.

My only response, really,
is that they did.

They smelled like grass.

I'm not sure how that is insulting.

I think I stumbled onto some
bound up rage that exists within
the American female rugby community.

I'll have to look into it more.

I got another criticism
regarding the show in Preston,
and how I didn't mention it in the journal.

To be fair,
every day here in England has been amazing.

Every show has been fun,
some more than others,
but all at least interesting.

If there is one thing about English audiences,
they really listen.

When they listen,
and pay attention to me,
and to Kristen, and to eachother,
crazy shit can happen.

Forgive me,
America,
if I have been
insulting you or your rugby players.

Obviously,
if you have taken
the time to read this,
than you probably listen
at shows.

But I want you to look around,
and watch your peers.
Their attention span is so short,
I can grab them one minute,
and the next they are off talking
to someone about the Miller Lite special.

I have some new strategies for playing
when I get back.

I listened to Bill Hicks,
I had never heard him before.

It was a tape of him
in front of a surly audience.

And he just laid into them about everything.

It was brilliant.

I'm no Bill Hicks,
never will be,
but I hope to learn something
from his intolerance for idiot audiences.

Once again,
if you're reading this,
than I'm excluding you from
that lumped group,
you are obviously not an idiot.

But remember the Cubby Bear?
And the girl asking for ...
shit, what was that shitty band?
Oh yeah, Dashboard Confessional.

Or the Springfield kareoke machine guy?

The incident I feel best about was the Pub II.
No turning off the TVs, no show.
I felt like I stood up for something that day,
even if it was small and dumb.

We aren't stupid Americans,
not all of us anyway.

But man,
we sure are surrounded by them.

And we certainly are represented by them in government.

But we don't have to think it's okay.

The next time I play some redneck town,
I'm going to play the Bush Song four times,
and then I'm going to tell the guy who gets pissed
that he looks really sexy in his shirt,
and then I'm going to tell the drooling moron
who wants to hear more Radio Head that he is a drooling moron,
and then I'm hopefully going to get kicked out of more bars.
But at least there will be one or two people in the crowd who saw it
and thought it was awesome, or at least interesting.

There is so much garbage crap spoonfed to us every day,
it seems that a lot of Americans don't even know how to think anymore.

People here ask me about America a lot.

I tell them,
%40 percent of Americans are the coolest people you will ever meet.
%20 are just normal.
and the other %40 are the biggest, self-serving morons in the world.

Scary part is:
those morons seem to reproduce a lot faster.

They have morons here too,
they call them Chavs.

with love,

-p