Tour Diary 8

Guess what?

I'm happy.

As a clam.

I just had to get out of New York,
honestly.

And thank god.

I flew down,
in my car,
to South Carolina.

It's crazy down here,
but not that crazy.

I played the Bush Song and everything.

And I'm staying with a gay, married couple.

Kinky.

They have an adorable little dog.
Some sort of mini pinscher chihuahua thing.

He's been licking my neck all night.
He can't quite reach my face.

I played a fun show
with awesome bands
and I've got some cash
in my pocket and some
beer in my belly.

I'm back where I belong,
out on the road,
playing shows,
meeting new people,
finding new adventures.

Instead of stuck in a
big, dirty city rehashing
days that have long since passed.

Love, man,
it's a bitch.

But music,
and rock and roll,
and bars and gay married
people with dogs,
and vegetarian restaurants
with cute counter girls,
and pretty red heads named Linda,
and funny mexican guys
who want to buy CDs,
and nerd rap bands
that sing about Dungeons
and Dragons,
and driving to South Carolina...

that is where it's fucking at.

Tomorrow I'm in Georgia,
I've never been there before, either.

What's up, South?

My name is Nice Peter,
and this is a song about George W Bush,
and if you don't like it,
you can lick that little dog's
balls on your way out.

And.................

South of the Border
is a rest stop that starts
advertising itself about
110 miles before it comes
up on the highway.

Billboards every other mile
create an image in your head
of a wondrous paradise,
where naked chicks pump
your gas as you browse through
aisle after aisle of interesting
and unique souvenirs.

It's a lie.

South of the Border
is a shitty combination
of Putt Putt, Speedway, and Taco Bell.

And they sell useless, ugly crap.

You pump your own gas,
and you pay a surly seventeen year old,
with braces.

It's a fucking rest stop,
and it's like every other rest stop.

Except it's bigger and dumber
and more expensive because
they have to budget for miles
and miles of false advertising.

Fuck you, South of the Border,
and fuck you, little dog,
stop licking my neck,
I'm trying to write here.

I'm sorry...
I didn't mean it,
you can lick my neck,
I'm almost done.

-p

Tour Diary part 6.5 & 7

I'm in North Carolina.

I think.

I'm pretty sure I'm in Raleigh.

I'm almost completely out of money.
I mean, really, completely.

I'm waiting on a big, big check
to come from a school in Illinois,
and then I'll be cool.

In the meantime,
I'm eating vegetarian food,
with my last dollars,
and I got my oil changed,
with my last debit card funds.

I think there's some change
in one of my guitar cases,
I always hear it rattling.

I'll put that in the gas tank.

Sorry I've been a bit quiet,
I was in New York for too long.

That city makes me a little
depressed and excited at
the same time.

It's hard to describe,
but it's almost like
going to bed with a girl
who is way too hot for you.

It's awesome,
and you can't
believe you're in
the presence of such awesomeness,
but at the same time,
it's gonna be hard to
forget that she's much hotter than you.

that didn't make much sense.

Neither did my experiences
in New York.

I did some serious soul searching,
and in twenty minutes in a bed
in Astoria, Queens, I figured out
my whole life.

At least my love life.

I got my car broken into in Philadelphia.
After a show that I didn't get paid for.

They broke in to the trunk,
or I left it unlocked, I can't tell.

They went through everything.
I had my guitars, my amp,
my CDs, mics, cables, shirts,
stands, everything...

and one little black box
with $230 cash in it.

I know, that was very stupid
to leave a little black box with cash in it.

But it was locked inside another
black box. And it was money
set aside to kick up to the
man back at the record label.

It's not really a record label,
but it kind of is, and it makes
me feel cooler to say that, okay?

So.

All the robbers took was the little black box.

And maybe my black hat,
which sucks, because I loved
that hat and now I can't find it.

So, I lost $230,
and then I spent
all my money going
on dates with my girlfriend
from high school in New York City.

We slept on a roof under
a blanket under the stars
with the skyline of Manhattan
behind us.

I'm serious.

It was pretty intense.

I don't know if you've
ever revisited a love
from a long time ago,
when the rest of you
personal life is a mess,
but it's both the most
wonderful and heart wrenching
thing imaginable.

My life was so easy and simple
back then.

I was eighteen, and in love,
and having the best sex of my
life.

How was I supposed to know?

Anyway.

I'm trying to keep my head
on straight, and its good to
get out of that fucking city.

That place can really eat you alive.

Tonight I have my first
ever gig in the South.

The people here are friendly,
and the talk slow, and when the
speed limit says 70,
they drive 68.

wish me luck.

-p

PS
If you would like to buy a gallon
of gas for me, I've added
a little thing below.
I'm going by North Carolina prices,
$2.79 a gallon.
You can buy a few or just one,
it'll be fun....

Tour Diary Part 5

I know what you're thinking.

Actually,
that's not true,
but I know what I would
be thinking if I was reading
this after reading parts one through four.

Where is he?
and what's the name
of the animal on his couch?

I didn't want to start this one that way.

But, for the record,
I'm on a couch in Boston,
and the dog's name is Zoe,
but she's sleeping in the other room.

She likes to lick your hair
when you get out of the shower.
It's sweet but kind of weird.

I wanted to start this one
by thanking all the people
that are allowing me to
live on their couches.

I've only gotten one hotel
in 9 days out, and that
was an extreme circumstance.

I don't plan on getting many more,
maybe one or two,
to keep the spirits fresh
and the pipes clean.

I'm also living off people's
good graces, thus far.

I have not gotten paid by
any venues.

I've gotten some money
from cover charges,
and from the tip box,
and from selling stuff.

And I'm surviving.

So, thank you,
everybody,
but most of all,
you.

I'm not even starving,
I had swordfish for lunch today.
(my friend paid for it)

All told,
this is the fucking life.

I drive around,
meet interesting people,
catch up with old friends
I haven't seen in years,
play.... moderately decent shows,
and move on.

Moderately decent.
none of the shows
have really been ground breaking.

Maybe I've just seen it too much.

whatever.

I'm working on some
new songs, but its
hard to work them into
the set.

If you see me,
and you want to hear something new,
yell it out. "play something brand new!"

I probably will.

Tough part is,
I've been writing
sad songs and love songs.
and one about text messaging.

besides the text messaging,
it's hard to work them into the set.

whatever.

I'm off to Philadelphia tomorrow.

I've never been there,
wish me luck.

-p

PS
I saw an old man serving
pizza at a rest stop in Massachusetts,
and he was wayyyyy too old,
and it was very sad to watch
him struggle with pizza.

PPS
I saw my grandma in Rochester,
and she's awesome, and I played
White Trash Woman for her.
and she danced.
and she's ninety two.
but don't tell her I told you that.

PPPS
I forgot to shower for
two days and I thought
Boston smelled funny.

It didn't.
I did.

PPPPPS
I've got lots of little stories
like these, it's just hard to
remember them all
in my weird little themed
blog posts.

PPPPPPPS
heeeeere Zoeeeee....
good girl.
now let's go to couch,
I mean bed,
I mean, home.

--------------------

T-9
saves you time

when you text me,
to tell me that you love me

say you want to see me,
probably just to fuck me.

just send the time
and I'll be there.

and if I'm running late
I'll text you quick
to let you know... oh...

I ask you if you'll spend the night
with OD
I mean OF
I mean ME

You say you just wanna
have SEW
I mean have PEW
I mean have SEX yeah....

cmon, let's get it on
look out baby I'm on my way,
and when I'm downstairs,
I'll text you that I'm downstairs,
with a smiley face...

ugh.

T-9
saves me time

when I text you,
to tell you that I miss you.

I ask you if you're hungry,
but I really want to kiss you.

but please don't call
cause I can't answer

I'm out with another girl right now,
and that would just be rude.. ooo...

oh, let's get it on,
look out baby cause here I come
all the things I'm gonna do to you,
just look how fast I can move my thumbs.

T-9
I wish I didn't have to spell "fuck" out
but it's cool

T-9
you make me LOL
with all the crazy SHIV
that you do

T-9
it's saves me time
so I can spend more time with you

---------------------

Tour Diary Part Four

I'm laying on a futon
with a dog named Noodles.

I'm in Buffalo, NY,
staying with me old friend
Britta from college.

I dropped out of SUNY
Fredonia after three years,
just outside of Buffalo, here.

The show last night was a blast,
at least I was having fun.

The keyboard is really
coming into its own.

I played on the radio yesterday afternoon,
and that makes a big fucking difference
for the show, I gotta get on the radio more often.

Shit.

I gotta get on the radio more often.

All kinds of cool people
showed up last night.

This dog,
Noodles,
is incredible.

He is a little black
mini-sheepdog looking thing,
and I think I'm in love.

Today I drive to Boston
to stay with another friend
from college, hopefully play
on another radio station,
and play another show.

If I can wake up with
another Noodles,
I'll be cool.

-p

Tour Diary Part 3

So,
I got upstage by Pauly's new band last night.

(If you don't know Pauly,
he's my old bass player,
from the Bush Song music video,
yeah... the guy in the batman suit)

I deserved it.

I've been upstaging
people for years.

It's not my fault,
I've got a gimmick.

I'm funny,
and I love the audience,
and I pay attention to them.

It's as simple as that.

So many performers
just ignore the group of
people that are the only
reason they are able
to perform in the first place.

I don't get it.
Never have.

I can see you,
and hear you,
and if you start
acting like an idiot
while I'm onstage,
I'm probably going to
sing about you.

I think that's what everyone
really likes about the shows, really.

Kristen used to tell me
I kept everyone in the moment.

She was big on that.

I miss Kristen,
but that's not
staying in the moment,
now is it?

This is my first real
day out on my own.

I've had Bryan with me
for the first four shows,
but now,
I'm alone.

Just me, and Rod.
(that's the name of my
satellite navigation
machine, he talks to me)

So Pauly upstaged me,
let me flounder for a few
songs, and then came up
with Donehoo to save my ass.

It was beautiful,
I wish you could have seen it.

He's really fucking good,
when he tries.

And he was trying last night,
and he was really fucking good.

You should go see
them play sometime,
it's worth it.

www.wallydogger.com

-p

Tour Diary Part Two

I'm laying on a couch in Howell, Michigan,
with a cat named Yoda.

He's a she.

and she's fat.

I'm talking about Howell's
history with the Ku Klux Klan,
apparently a grand wizard
used to live around these parts.

Howell is trying hard to get
away from that reputation,
I tried hard to sing about it
as much as possible.

Tonight was an all ages show.

That is always odd,
I started the show by saying,

"I feel very uncomfortable
playing songs about drugs
in front of high school students,
but I'm going to anyway."

and then I launched into Smoke That Weed.

now, mom,
before you yell
at your computer,
just remember that
I myself started smoking
pot in high school.

maybe that wasn't
the best thing to say.

but its true.

these kids came out
to see my show tonight,
and that is what I do.

that's not all I do,
and Nate, the booking guy,
pointed out to me that he
saw my college demo,
which is squeaky clean,
and he thinks I could
have pulled off that kind of
show in front of this crowd
and they would have loved it.

Maybe so.

Maybe I swear too much,
and sing about sex
and smoking pot.

but, shit.

When I was thirteen
I was staying up
until three in the
morning to watch
soft core porn
on Cinemax at
my cousins house.

I was laughing
at jokes about
pubic hair and
sex, because I was
just starting to learn
about pubic hair and sex.

And it was awkward,
and honestly, it still is.

That kind of shit is weird,
and we're all so uptight,
well.... not me,
but you all,
not you,
but they all...
are so uptight,
and that's what makes everything
such a big fucking deal.

If we were more open about
sex and drugs, maybe we
would have less pregnant,
stoned, fifteen year olds.

We have a lot of them.

So, maybe,
I'm doing a public service.

Bring sex and drugs out
into the open, especially
for the younger audiences.

let's laugh about boners,
because you get them all day long.

let's laugh about pot,
because.... you... yes you,
that sixteen year old in the
tie dye, you've smoked it.

You probably did tonight.

Because its easier
to get pot than beer,
for a kid under 21.

Drug dealers don't
ask for ID.

So.... what happens?

You get to college,
fucking freak out,
and poison yourself
with alcohol because
you did seven shots
of 99 Bananas before
you went out.

ridiculous.

my point,
if I ever have one,
is that I sing about
crazy shit,
and the people
in the audience tonight,
no matter how old they were,
had fun,
and I had fun,
and I didn't introduce
them to shit that they
didn't know about before.

And it's people like you,
lady at the opera house
who hates my music
and thinks I'm the devil,
that are forcing these subjects
into the land of taboo,
where they can really thrive.

so...
lighten up,
smoke some weed
with me, old lady,
and let me make
love to your bottom.

your old,
uptight,
bottom.

-p

Tour Diary Part One

I'm laying on a couch in Milwaukee.

With a Siamese cat named Simon,
and a terrible bloody mary I made
out of whiskey.

I'll try to bring you up to speed:

Gigs so far:
two

Subway sandwiches:
one

Panera Bread visits:
one

Running out of gas on the highway occurrences:
one

That's right,
I fucking ran out of gas.

I guess I shouldn't say just once,
because I ran out of gas last week
after the IIT show too.

My beloved Subaru
does not scream at you
when you are low on fuel.

No warning light,
and no room below E.

Most cars I've driven
have some play below E,
you can take it to empty
without really making it... empty.

Not the Subaru,
not my Bette Boop.

(have I told you that I bought
a Subaru with Bette Boop stickers
on the back?)

I did.

And I almost bought a Bette Boop
tshirt at a garage sale today.

I bought cowboy boots instead.

real, fucking, cowboy boots.

they were two dollars...
I had to.

My first gig
was in Dekalb, IL,
and there were nine people there.

By the end,
it was eleven.

I earned some new fans,
well..
two new fans,
over from the pool hall next door.

Then,
on the drive back to Bryan
Adamick's (my booking agent,
who is accompanying
me on the first four shows.)
I felt the familiar jerk of,
"oh shit, I'm out of gas"

We were on 90/94,
a six lane highway North
of Chicago.

I tried to crest the hill
like Annie's headlights,
but I stalled out 200 yards
from the exit.

We tried to push the car,
but we were two hundred
fucking yards from the exit.

So.

We walked.

And walked,

and a state trooper blew
by us walking along the highway,
and didn't seem interested.

He probably shops at
Reckless Records.

dickhead.

We finally made it to the Shell Station,
bought a gallon in my gas can
that Naomi convinced me to keep.

Don't ask me who she is,
it's a long fucking story.

a nice one, though.

We made it back to the car,
and back to Bryan's condo.

This morning I
had my favorite
Panera bread sandwich,
and three cups of coffee.

Then we hit up
Guitar Center
to start shooting
my underground music video.

I'm going to try to
film an entire music
video for Fuck Guitar
Center, inside Guitar Center.

I was nervous as balls.

I'm not too good at that kind of stuff.

The rebellious underground.

Then we were off to Wisconsin,
where I picked up a keyboard,
so I can play "You Shouldn't have pissed me off"
live on stage.

It's not the same without a thirty
dollar keyboard,
so that's just what I got.

Lot's of people are telling
me its their favorite song
on the album.

It both delights and frustrates
me to no end.

I wrote that song in ten minutes
with Pops while we were
smoking pot and watching
wrestling.

I recorded it in fifteen,
and I made up the second
verse about the cat in the
microwave on the spot
as we were recording.

"hasambach...."

is just me trying to
say "I hope somebody.."
and tripping over it,
because I was hung over from pot,
and I was making it up.

anyhows,

I bought the keyboard,
and I played the song
at the gig tonight.

In Milwaukee,
opening for a lovely
girl who might be lesbian,
named JoAnn.

She might be a lesbian,
or she might just have lots
of lesbian fans.

Actually,
she definitely has lots
of lesbian fans,
but I'm not sure about her.

And it doesn't matter.

She was lovely,
and we had a fun show,
and we each made ten dollars.

I didn't make any dollars last night.

I'm off to a very successful start.

Actually,
I am.

I felt good about both shows,
and people bought the album,
and some shirts,
and I'm having fun,
and I'm stoned on
a couch trying to drink
a terrible bloody mary.

I don't know whose couch it is,
I'm not sure who lives here.

but I know she has kids.

It's cool,
they sleep upstairs,
and they won't wake
me and Bryan up tomorrow,
but the Siamese cat might.

see you tomorrow.

-p

beef

I recorded my album with Mike Kolar
at Soundscape Studio in Chicago.

One of Mike's other clients
is a rapper named Rhymefest,
also based in Chicago.

Mike have Rhymefest
a copy of Suburban Highschool,
because he thought he might
enjoy it.

He did.

He came back to Mike
because he wanted to
ask for another copy to
give to his good friend.

Another rapper,
also based in Chicago,
you might have heard of him,
his name is Kanye West.

So Rhymefest gave Kanye West
a copy of my album with a song
called 50 Cent is a Pussy,
while Kanye West is in the middle
of a head to head album sales battle
with 50 Cent.

pretty cool day, so far.

Except for the fact that those
fuckers at Reckless Records...
STILL do not have Suburban Highschool
available for sale.

It hasn't been processed yet.

I hate those pretentious fucks.

If you live in Chicago,
I implore you,
please go to Reckless
Records to buy your
copy of Suburban Highschool,
my friend did,
and it still wasn't "available"
but they sold it to her anyways.

I'm hoping it sells out
in both stores before
they are able to process it for sale.

That would be very funny to me.

Those pretentious fucks.

-p

Tour woes

Dude.

I had to pull out of my West Coast ambitions.

I'm sorry.

not to you,
but to myself.

and not really.

I tried to pull it all together,
me and my booking agent
were doing all we could.

It sounded like a great idea,
drive to California by myself
and play gigs in the land of angels.

Turns out,
California is far as fuck.

And none of the clubs would
get back to us,
not even in Nebraska.

So it was between driving hundreds
of miles with very few gigs on very little
money and starving and falling asleep
at the wheel, or...

coming back to Chicago for a month
and chilling out and saving up some money
doing odd gigs and working at the restaurant
so I can travel to England in style.

I went with the latter,
I hope you can understand.

Plus...
I've got a cool new apartment,
bachelor pad,
and it's got cool walls,
and I like my room,
and I'm already paying for it,
so I might as well spend some time here.

Let's have a party.

small.

I'll bring some pot,
you bring one of those
cool little Heineken mini kegs.

I love those things.

Me and my last room mate
at my temporary bachelor pad
threw a party with six of those things.

Every half hour we would exclaim
in triumph... "we kick another KEG!"

never mind it only holds fifteen beers,
we felt awesome.

-p

follow up

Just as a follow up to yesterday's story...

I ended up passing out on the couch.

I had a two room suite,
two fucking huge bedrooms
with premium linens,
and I ended up passing
out on the couch.

I love this life.

-p

what's up?

Hey Pete,
where are you tonight?

well...

funny that you ask.

I'm in a two bedroom suite at
an expensive hotel,
all to myself,
which is ridiculous,
and I'm in Lansing, Michigan.

I did a show with my old
Improv Comedy troup,
two shows, actually,
in front of an adoring
crowd of 400+

and it was awesome.

I toured with these guys
for one and a half years
before my music started
taking over my life,
and before I had a serious
girlfriend, two legitimate distractions.

Now I'm a fill in pro,
off retirement to come in
when they need me,
and it feels awesome.

I cut my teeth at these shows,
learned how to perform
off the cuff shit in front
of a crowd.

And I love it.

You haven't lived until
you have a huge room
full of college students
hanging and laughing
on your every word.

But that's where I am,
tonight.

and tomorrow I'll be somewhere else.

and then on Wednesday I take
off for one month on my own
on the road playing music.

It's a good life.

Hard and weird sometimes,
but I can't complain.

I'm sleeping with beautiful
girls, too many of them for
any heart trying desperately
to remain pure.

What did you expect from me?

I'm just out of a four year
serious thing,
and I love women,
entirely.

Too much so,
that it consumes me.

You're all so soft and nice
and wonderful,
and you all have your awesome
things to offer the world.

I'll try my hardest to be nice
and honest with you.

But don't be mad at me when I fuck up.

please.

I'm trying to do my best
to be good,

but I'm tempted to be so bad,
and we're really all so bad,
on the inside somewhere.

We're selfish animals
that want to fuck.

or maybe not.

but I think so.

I'm trying to keep
my head on straight
as I fall in love over
and over again like
its good food and
and open bar.

but its not,
and I know it.

and I'll get burned,
eventually,
and I know it.

but in the meantime,
I'm sleeping alone
in a luxury hotel
that someone else
is paying for,
doing comedy for
money until I get
back home where
a lovely girl who needs me
is waiting,
and until then,
I'm drunk at a computer.

what do you want from me?

I'm trying to do my best
to be a good person.

as it stands,
I'm not.

but I think I make
people laugh sometimes,
and that has to count for something.

-p

Red Eyes and Publicist

I've got a new publicist.

I've had more publicists than drummers.

Actually, I think the number is about the same.

His name is John Gilmoure,
and so far, he's off to a hell of a start.

He got me an interview with the Red Eye.

I did it a week ago over the phone.

Much to his chagrin,
twenty minutes into the interview
I started going off on how much
I can't stand the Red Eye.

I've gotta express myself.

I just mentioned that its silly
to me that a paper read bye everyone
in a city full of artists and musicians
puts the fact that Justin Timberlake
was shopping at American Apparel
on the back cover as breaking news.

Really?

Who cares where Justin Timberlake
was shopping?

And don't tell me that's
what the readers want to read about.

Treat us like idiots, and we'll respond like them.

All that said,
it was an awesome article,
and the Red Eye did me a huge
service by writing about me.

Now all the cooks at work
call me Maestro, because
they saw the half page photo
of me holding my guitar.

A fuck half page photo!

Oh man, it was so awesome.

I just wanted to ride around
on the train all day with the photo
facing out and see if anyone noticed.

I put in the article that my new album
is available at Reckless Records in Chicago.

It is.

but fuck Reckless Records, too.

What a bunch of snotty little cocksuckers they are.

I took my disks in to put them
on sale as consignment.

I mentioned that I got a big
article coming out in the Red Eye,
the next day,
and it was going to mention
the album was available at Reckless.

I know they would carry it,
because I talked to them on the phone.

I didn't know how long it would take,
and I didn't mean to leave it to the last minute,
but the Red Eye thing came as kind of a surprise.

So I went in,
and asked very nicely
if there was any way they
would be able to have the CD
available by the next day.

Maybe I'm ignorant,
but it doesn't seem that hard to me,
maybe it is.

Maybe they're cocksuckers.

This was last Wednesday,
my friend went to go buy it Saturday,
and they guy said it wasn't processed yet.

And then he went back to sucking cock.

-p