Oct 16, New York. New steer horns (courtesy of Rubber O Cement) and the cart is a newborn.... The band got to the Hinthouse in time to see the Commode Minstrels in Buffalo do a shoot 'em up hardware store opera with a cover song or two. Lots of food from long haired persons and a place to sleep.

Oct 17, Pennsylvania. Philadelphia has gone downhill since Ben Franklin died but the video arcade where the band played was spacious and the walls were worth a few hops over. At the edge of the stage (a good 8" high) was some long pipes on the ceiling. Tightrope acts with threatening circus antics. Flying garbage can without wings and young buckaroos stomping and grinning. Smelly, the roadie threatened to have a good time as he was helping the opening band. It worked when a young lass got brained by a flying shoe.

Oct 18, back to New York. The next thing: the Shitty Factory in NYC, a place where famous people play. We were a bit sleepy, but the other SF bands showing up to rent our equipment made us perk up. All was good. The balcony was a ladder to heaven (with some helpful pushes from the audience) and the Daydoostuffs took all the equipment apart and polished it. A good night in various houses. We slept, then on into the burblin' mud of the crapping cart.

Oct 19, Virginia. We got to Virginia and passed out. The guy who left us a house in Virginia really knew how to stock a place with bandages. No more road fright.

Oct 20, North Carolina. Next was Releigh. A wonderful countryside. We called the club in Raleigh "College Pot" and saw Smelly again who kicked the front of the crapping cart, turning it into a hot roll. The show was confusing for some, as most were there to see the opening band the Import, and weren't ready the 1800's. Fine. We have the 1800's for Caroliner, not college potties. Some folks wanted to shake hands with the band though.

Oct 21, Georgia. Drive all night to Atlanta. The Atlanta show was really somethin'. The gallery had all the fixin's with a radio station nearby playing non-stop Caroliner music.

Oct 22, Alabama. This was a hoot 'cuz the Band set up in a huge concrete ditch with the wind hitting them.

Oct 23, Florida. The band was going to play, but the promoter, who was never around, needed a confirmation and had to be talked to a day before the show after having it set up 3 months ago. We don't know what happened but we suspect she got spooked. The 1800's is a dangerous (looking) thing. The band's clothes smell like cigarettes as do the other things in the band. We've not had the pleasure of convincing our own true-boo nervous members to ditch this trend of tobacco for trade of a different oral fixation. We passed straw, branches, apple stems and chaw which got left usually in a sock or shoe. Groat Pulp saw this would take some placation and comfort. A drawing of a mountain with a trout filled stream every morning might do the trick but we are so exhausted from the 1800's lesson at every show, his pictures are bad line renditions that would be left in a "flunk" pile at a kindergarten class.

Oct 24, Louisiana. We drive on to New Orleans where we had to find an evening of sleep. Most everyone stays up all night socializing at the various speakeasys, wanting to hear and tell what tricks their mind does. This trend would work better for these kids in an educational area. With no show in New Orleans and no place to sleep, we doomed ourselves, crying to each other and trying out some local custom of drink and puke. Months of phone calls for naught. But after 2 hours, we had an illegal closet in an office building to sleep in and a bar to play in with a promise of flyers by midnight. Things work out when you include yourself in local custom.

Off to the sleep closet. Our show in New Orleans was in a house-type bar with a stage next to couches and book shelves. The audience grinned and passed out. Enough attention was given to us in 10 minute increments that we didn't feel slighted. Very interesting city New Orleans. Carney types mix with millionaires, dwarves and time era types to create a hodge podge of confusion. This confusion is evenly tempered by fire-water and semi-conciousness (in the 80% range). We left the city in good spirits.

Oct 25, Texas. Houston is a modern city that has the smells of petrol breath disorders. The place the Band played at was a bar with a marijuana porch in the back. Rotten Piece opened the show with a very casual approach to sound coming mostly from cassette deck. Next up was the band Culturcide that doubles as a psychiatrist in music form to Caroliner and many other people I'm sure, this year harnessing "rock" music to drop hints on well adjusted living. We wrote notes to ourselves. Some of these common addressings of human thought taken to full measure are very good to hear about. Every line is usually some Mark Twain type reflection and the singer drives home his points by running the gamut of human emotions in facial expressions, contortions of the body and in-line dance moves. Very educational. A big highlight of the tour having all questions answered in 45 minutes. This will make a huge dent on the rest of the tour since we go into thoughts mostly of 1800's origin and when the modern pollutions deal us a bum card we are confused and need counseling. Our notes will help. Provided with a belt during the Caroliner set by a pillar of cross-armed confusion, some people got a raw deal during "teething cotton" but the song is an angry song and they wanted more. The belt dropped in the audience and we came back up to the stage. Beatings aplenty in Houston.

We made it to Austin and pulled into our rendezvous point with the head Spumoni who got us a pass to the empty house he had moved out of a week ago. We were to make ourselves at home and plan for the next day's show. Mrs. Angie our promoter/counselor in Austin brought us over a cooking pot. The house smelled like an old foot and said fuck you at every turn. Stuff was clogged and fell apart and the place was ripe to be moved out of, plus the landlord came by and asked what the Spumonis were doing. Groat Pulp told him we were helping them out.

Brooks Shields, the movie star turned DJ, came over for an interview. Next we need to go to the club. We ditch the idea of waiting for Doey Bulch cuz it's late and she left without saying dink. Hopefully, she's at the club already. We wait one more minute, then leave.

On the way, the new gold filter on the cart started burning. Pulling the cart over in the only rain of the year, we create an environmental hazard that was due to overflow and bad screwing on of the gold filter cup. Terrible.

We tried to set up stuff quick when we got to the club because some poets festival was about to happen before three bands. Doey Bulch shows up amidst "worried sick" and "you dink". After two hours of bad poets acting worse, we are nuts. "Jerry Seinfeld's Atrophied Sack" played a relaxing half hour of no/go music and then Brown Whorenet came on and shined. Great improvising, except for the times when they tried to play the notes in the proper order, and then we got all confused. We came on like bull thud and dumped our old timey music on Austin. It was OK.

The mechanical bull walker walked around the crowd inciting a riot but got semi-ignored, so after the show we head to Mrs. Angies, but the cart won't make the hills! We take forever. The next day after a wonderful sleep, more hill problems. We had to find the right mechanically inclined helper who would take our money that day. After a full hour of adjusting we leave for Pecos to play a crafts store. After a ton and a half of anxiety in Austin, we are gone away. Goodbye! Thank you!

Oct 28, Texas. Pecos, what a teeny town. We played at a place called Skill Store which has art items and other goodies. We played in a workroom and menaced the 30 or so people there. After confusing them for 40 minutes or so, our spokesperson for the evening explained what the story was and all ws well.

Oct 29, Texas. El Paso, more confusion at a bar in a mall. We were billed as "robots". OK. The only highlight was attacking a table and the one guy who applauded. This was a last-minute show that was supposed to happen elsewhere, and only one person knew who we were. We had to tell everyone else.

Oct 31, Arizona. Our Phoenix show was off/on & up in the air so we were moved to Buckeye in an airplane hanger. Being Halloween, shroom partiers in costume took over the hanger earlier, the owner and crew leaving us to set up at a BMX party house to play for beer money. Removing all furniture from the room, we tainted it with the 1800's baroque architecture we travel with. People watched us play from the outside and hallway, making a human wall. Groat Pulp climbed up the the wall and over it to get to the bathroom, at one point scraping ass on the ceiling. Unfortunately, Groat forgot to drop his drawers when pooping. After the show, our host Toad took the stinky costume and set it outside in disgust. Seconds later, smoking pot to change the atmosphere, he passed out quickly on the spot.

Nov 1, California. Reaching LA, we explore the world of slot car racing, pretending that we're still riding in our cart and worrying about the endless ride finally being over. The show was with the feedback band Sleestack, Widney High and Solid Eye. Sleestack was like other bands but louder. Widney High was a bar rock outfit with physically and mentally handicapped young adults singing and hopping. Lots of wonderful dance ideas being made up on the spot with no effort at all. Very inspirational. The Solid Eye guys played hit after hit of top notch back pain sounds with carefully textured bombs sneaking in now and then. Movies were shown of Disney styled layer-porn in factory settings. The greatest DJ in the world played fancy organ music in between every band making the crowd go outside to frown. We stayed.

This set was the closing of the tour. One person dragged by foot and another stepped on. The greatest thing to happen in LA ever by far. Bye, going home.