I hadn’t been on a month-long road trip for some time. These days I’m more inclined to broaden our schedule so there is ample recovery time after each group of concerts—usually two or three at a stretch. Giving my best is the idea. But flying to Holland right after our eastern Canadian tour seemed prudent, in light of having only six hours to time-adjust rather than nine from the West Coast.
By the time we left Zurich, our final concert and one month on the road, we all looked and felt slightly grilled on both sides. I decided to stay and decompress in Amsterdam for a day and a half before taking the eleven-hour flight back home. I ran two miles in the morning, took a sauna, slept, ran another three miles at noon, took another sauna, heaved weights, did yoga, got two massages and pissed rainbows all day. By that evening I was feeling a whole lot better than I did twelve hours prior. I became a kinder and gentler soul once more.
‘Perskindol’ is what one yellow tube said, with a picture of a red flame nearby. The other yellow tube said, ‘Confidence facial cleanse, anti-aging armor’ (as if) — both patently obvious designations to the theoretically clear mind.
In a dim-lit bathroom with only the lavender LED lights illuminated around the small round vanity mirror, what living male human, predisposed to ignore directions at all events, would bother to read names or check silly marketing images like flames. A tube is a tube, and yellow is yellow. Who’d be dumb enough to put muscle balm next to the sink anyways? I choked the yellow tube and got the gooey goods and applied generously and deeply, trying to clean every pore poisoned by rich and sometimes questionable food, high pressure cabins and strange beds. Suddenly I noticed the texture and smell were not exactly what I expected from a facial-wash. In the next moment I had entered into face hell, slapping cold compresses to burning cheeks and fiery under eyes and lips that sizzled like steak on a griddle. I believe I looked a little like Lila in the Heartbreak Kid, after spending a little too much time in the Cabo San Lucas sun, as I examined my face in full light.
“Ice machine!” is what the man in the mirror urgently advised.
I met some truly beautiful folks on this trip. I think the shows were some of our best. I hope the audiences felt just half of what rushed through me during the concerts.
Thank you all