Now I just have to get two songs registered, then turned in to URP, then hear the test pressings and a bunch of other crap to have a single in 4 weeks, send out more press releases, start the process for tour dates in the UK, Europe and the US for the rest of the year ASAP, fly home, pick up T shirts, a recording console so I can drive out to Sugar Valley and then Jersey, then go back to AZ to do more stuff while debating if I should go out on the road to sell merch/ tour manage for the 1st bit of US dates vs getting all the other ducks in a row for the manufacturing of the album.

In addition I have to get my SCCA licence record a session fix the A-range and god knows what else.

My plate is filling up like I'm at buca de beppo.

We’ll, maybe not that big, but close.

This time I only bought because I needed to make change to buy my train ticket as their ticket machine don’t take my kind of card, nor bills, and only the occasional one takes coins. I nibble on the Cashews for lunch and they taste a little funny, but no big whoop.

Instead of going directly to Venlo I have to go back to go forward and change in Eindhoven, there I power down the tic-tacs, ALL OF THEM. It’s a bad habit, but whatever. Hop skip and a jump and I’m in Venlo, wait 20 minutes of so and get on the train that eventually will get me to Munster. Make another connection, sit down and start reading The Economist. After a couple of minutes I start feeling warm, then my hands start itching and I feel like shit. I go to the bathroom to check myself out and I’m red like a lobster, so I’m freaking out a little.

I’m not allergic to cashews, but what was that funky "sea salt" flavor? Nah, it’d been too long to have this reaction.

 I’ve had my fair share of coke zero and that’s never a problem.

TicTacs?

What an embarrasing thing to go down like a kid who ate too much candy, but this is waay worse. While I’m writing down what I had eaten (Ich essen cashews, gross tictacs, coke zero)in case I pass out as I ask some folks to get a conducter, whom I then ask "Ein doktor, bitte." Luckily there was a doctor on board and I give him the breakdown(Bitte, mein deutche is scheisse, Ich bein ein Amerikaner) and family history of my Grandma getting diabetes pretty late in life. By that point I’m in the fetal position but on my back so my legs are elevated.

Herr Doktor asks me if I’m gnna be ok and it’s only 30 minutes to Munster so I’m thinking about, it but the calculus says:

"Doc, I gotta go to hospital or I ain’t gonna be alright".

So they stop the train somewhere and put me in a stretcher and I go into perfect patient mode, removing my cowboy shirt so they can get a BP and pumping up my other arm so they can find a vein. 1st thing was a blood sample and then a bag of ringers solution. Weird thing was I was already starting to feel better. Send Serge, my brother amd my hun a txt explaining things.

So as they’re loading me into the ambulance ask I ask if it’s hyperglycemia and hear, Ja, 200.

Holy fucking cow!!!!!!!!! 200? Jesus I coulda had renal failure with shit like that.

So into the emergency room where I repeat everything to a new doctor and am getting an EKG when the nurse fucking pricks my finger without even grabbing my hand, the sneaky bitch. My 2nd blood test came back @ 105 which wasn’t bad considering it was less than a 1/2 hour since the 1st one.

 They were asking if I had German insurance and told them no, then they asked where I was living, told em I was on the road and that we were gonna be on havenstrasse in Munster and they found the address(so the could send the bill that nobody’s gonna pay) and said don’t worry about it and then they printed me up a map to the bahnhof so I schlepped my sorry ass over in the rain feeling like shit.

Get to the venue, turns out Serge didn’t get the text. Man, do I fell like shit, but here I sit and write this inbetween selling merch on a Sunday night.

Finally got around to do some image processing of some of the stuff shot at Excello, so here goes: