JFK.

sucks.

it's like my first landlord.

old.

ugly and.. 

it comes with heaps of bullshit complication. and the bars are expensive. anyone who's ever read any of my blog posts probably knows i hate flying. it's a terrible thing to hate something so much that you need to do in order to survive. typically i treat this unfortunate mixture of circumstance with alcohol. i used to drink Guinness after Guinness at the airport bar but i was annoying the shit out of the people sitting next to me with my boy-like bladder. i'd since switched to whiskey when someone told me that your doctor, provided he's not a total douche bag or a mormon, will write you an anti-anxiety prescription if you hate flying like i do. that person was right! this is the part where i get dum-b. firstly, i don't trust that this little pill is going to fix this particular problem and secondly, i don't know how long it will take to start working so i figure i should grease the rails a little. 

i'm still here so you know i didn't drink too much, but just in case you were thinking that i don't know what a bad idea this is... i know. a double dewars neat and a sam adams to wash down my valium and i'm on the plane in high spirits. dude, i've never had such a relaxing and uneventful flight in my life. i scarfed down some indian food (thankfully, that's what they give you now when you request a veggie meal, and it's not bad!) and completely passed out. when i woke up, i could see DirecTV dishes on suburban rooftops through the thinning clouds. mission accomplished. i've yet to find a way around the whole arriving hung over and mangled thing cause the valium produced a very similar effect. no biggie. i've got years of experience operating at 60% capacity. 

my dear friends type and midnite of the let go pick me up at the airport. we head immediately off to a local watering hole where one of my favorite human beings, Murder Dice, is pretending to work. it was a cute, tucked away little hipster bar. i lost count after the 5th or 6th Guiness but the next day, which was to be the first performance date of The Bar Hunt tour i felt a new kind of shitty. enough so that bar hunting would have been last on my list of things to do. i Pho'ed it up with Type and still had the cloud looming over me. by the way, if you're not Vietnamese or adventurous enough to have found your way into a big bowl of Pho (pronounced "fuh", like "what the fu..."), then you're missing all the good things in life. 

soundcheck at High Dive in the Fremont area of Seattle. i haven't even played a show and i'm already hoarse. serves me right for spending my pre-game rest boozing until the sun came up. alright. until the clouds came up. actually, as i recall it was uncharacteristically sunny for the first day of the Bar Hunt tour. of course the clouds did turn out for the show but happily so did a nice little chunk of the Seattle hip hop crowd. no thanks to Mel, who hasn't written, called or booked me since 06. for the record, i've had 2 successful Let Go co-billed shows filled with lyric quoting fans since the barstaff bonanza you threw me. i know you're the promotional toast of the town there so im a little hurt that you've neglected your old friend louis. i mean after all, i pet your little min pin and let him flirt with my darling Chihuahua daughter, Astra! 

High Dive was a fantastic kick off complete with good openers, good attendance and a boozed up birthday girl who was immortalized hypeman-ing my set by Griff J. thanks, Griff. you're the goods! i took the night off from drinking to preserve my voice and inadvertently started what would become a nightly tradition... or would it? i'll leave you with that cliffhanger. come see me tomorrow for the next day of Bar Hunt silliness. thanks for reading. xo, louis