Peter Peter Hughes (diskothiq) wrote,
Peter Peter Hughes

Kitchen, Rochester

One of the rad things about a career in show business is residuals. You're probably like me in the sense that you've always assumed that every person you see on TV is free to pursue a life of leisure just based on the checks that roll in each month in perpetuity. Now that the Mountain Goats have cracked the big-time I'm happy to report that this is exactly the case. I can't even go away for a couple of weeks without coming home to another official-looking envelope. Here's one right here from NBC Universal, says something about Late Night with Jimmy Fallon foreign cable rebroadcast something something, and it looks like a check for ... lessee here ... okay, sweet, $10.80! Oh wait though, there's some federal taxes taken out, and forty-five cents for social security, and sixteen cents for Medicare, okay and some New York state stuff, so, um, scrolling down here to the actual check, okay, looks more like actually $6.38. Still though. Is that not awesome? It's like, I feel certain that there was a time when I actually had to worry about money, or at least, you know, like, keep track of it? But damn, it just seems so foreign and distant to me now, it's hard to remember what that was even like. Anyway, who's up for lunch? My treat!

But yeah. Leeds, Glasgow and Newcastle shows all pretty great. Tough, accommodations-wise, but that's because we've been spoiled by success here in the U.S. Going to the U.K. for us is kind of like stepping back in time ten or fifteen years and paying your dues all over again, spending evenings in moldy, mildewed dressing rooms where the cock-drawing-to-places-to-sit ratio averages roughly 10:1. Keeps you young though, right? That's what I'm telling myself, anyway. And like I say, shows were great: awesome, enthusiastic and appreciative crowds every night. And not to be all cheeseball about it, but that is what counts.

Got back to London early Tuesday evening and wanted very badly to take advantage of a rare opportunity to see Art Brut and Keith TOTP and the Minor UK Indie Celebrity Allstar Backing Band on their home turf that night but was just out of gas and couldn't do it. So bummed. Probably for the best though as the next day's journey home was yet another cancelled-flights-and-subsequent-delays ordeal that I'm not even going to get into because whatever I'm home now, but I suspect that if I'd had five minutes less sleep the night before I would very likely have just snapped, set down my shit on the sidewalk in front of Terminal 3 and just started walking the fuck home from JFK. Next time. Next time Art Brut and Keith TOTP I mean.

See you in Minneapolis in a couple weeks!

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