Tokyo Damage Report


In which our narrarator plays a rock and roll concert and is plagued with woes.


All day, I was doing stuff for the website. At an internet cafe, because my internet at home is so fucking slow, even the google home page times out half the time before it loads. It’s not even like a 52k modem connection. Frankly, I’d have to upgrade to even get dixie cups and string. Right now it is a system of diseased and crippled carrier pigeons each bearing a one or zero, that fly into a coop on my porch, which has a usb cable.

Once I finish internetting, I realize it is 3:05 PM, which means 5 things.

1) I have not eaten solid food in 15 hours

2) i only have 40 mintues to get to band practice

3) every fucking indian restaraunt in town closed 5 minutes ago, and won’t open until 5.

4) Ditto every fucking thai place

5) and these places will reopen for dinner about, oh, 30 minutes after i have lleft town to go to band practice!

iBy the time i realize 1-5, ten minutes have elapsed, leaving me only 30 minutes to find food. so, in desperation I go to the noodle shop where you order by vending machine. I pay what I always pay and push the button which I always push, and take the ticket to the counter and am served this TOTALLY DIFFERENT DISH. I’m like, what? Where’s my fucking tofu, bitch?? They’re like, oh, we don’t serve tofu in winter. SO WHY’D YOU STILL HAVE THE TOFU RAMEN BUTTON ON YOUR VENDING MACHINE THEN??? Jesus! That’s like ordering a big mac and they give you an eggplant enchilada and look at you like, “what? That’s a big mac now.” DON’T GASSLIGHT ME, NOW IS NOT THE TIME.

plus, what with all the bullshit it is now 3;20, (20 minutes before I have to leave) AND I am so hungry I am ready to pass out. . . and I vaguely remember a cafe I like that has some small snacks, and decide to order 3 of them at once. I bike all the way there and find that. . . . even though it has been open every Sunday until now and will be open every Sunday after now, this particular Sunday it is closed all fucking day. I would call it a Kafkaesque ordeal, except that dude was a cockroach and I’m pretty sure they eat anything.

Eventually I find a totally random restaurant with a chinese tofu thingy where it is served with blistering hot curry and wolf it down, and rush to band practice, where I proceed to play all the songs much worse than I did last week. Ironically, this is because I only slept 3 hours last night, which I couldn’t sleep becaue I was so worried about messing up the songs! It doesn’t help that the songs all basically sound the same, but try telling that to the band. . . . any band.

After that, the show starts. A bunch of my pals all show up, which is awesome!

(show review omitted!)




Punchine ; I had been taking pictures of all the bands at the show, with the result that like five seconds before my own band goes on, my battery decides to run out.

Our band plays, and it is total chaos. I wasn’t surprised that I couldn’t hear the other instruments at all ? after all it was punk show? but I WAS surprised I couldn’t hear MY OWN DRUMS. The mix was actually somehow worse than during practice, even though we were playing in a practice studio!!! My snare was fucking deafening but I couldn’t hear any kick drum or toms. I mess up a bunch of spots ? not like little things, but like totally blanking out on what comes after the chorus and just thrashing randomly until the band members glare at me and I’m like huh? oh yeah, that song you wrote.

The vocal was hella jumping high in the air, attacking people in the audience and generally treating the customers as kind of a human jungle gym the whole time. he is an awesome singer and fun to watch, but the end result was, no matter how much I rocked out, no one looked my way at all. . . . unless I fucked up. Fucked up! It didn’t feel like being in a band; it felt like I was a student trying to take a hard test or something.

Afterwards my friends said it was a fun show, but only one japanese person actually acknowledged me at all. Not even like good job or that was awesome, just like, oh you are in that band. By this time I was exhausted and walking into walls, but the guys in the band say, ok we are having a band meeting now. First I’d heard of it! I was like, why didn’t you tell me that in advance???

I can’t say I am surprised, because from the time I joined, they have kept me on a top-secret need-to-know basis for everything. Most bands, after practice, they all go out and have a few beers and pal around with each other. My band is like, they’ll tell me when I messed up but beyond that they don’t really talk to me. .I had to look up directions to our show on the internet, and ask the promoter who the other bands were. My own band wouldn’t tell me. How much is the show? I ask. Whaddaya want to know that for? They say. I told them I need to know because I’m inviting all my friends, and they were like, why? Why?!? Jesus. Like, what, I am such a shitty drummer you don’t want anyone to come to your own show??

So I decline the band meeting in favor of sleep, and on the way out, here comes the punchline ? some dude hands me a flyer for my band’s next show. My own band didn’t tell me about the show, I had to learn about it from Random Flyer Guy. What the hell? I express my surprise to him, and he says, without any inflection, well maybe they didn’t tell you because they have another drummer for that show. What??? Well, goodness gracious.

So, with that on my mind I take the train home and as I get to my bike, I realize I left my bike key where? Back at the fucking live show. Cue fog horn, fade out.


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