How to Avoid a "Seriously Chapped, Tattered BH" and Other Dispatches on the Road with Torche

With Restarter still ringing in the public's ears, Torche has embarked on their US tour with NOTHING and WRONG, The dates kick off in the band's hometown of Miami with a show featuring drummer Rick Smith on the drums in triplicate. Guitarist Andrew Elstner can take it from here…. March 4th (or so).
A whirlwind of Jon moving to Gainesville, into a new studio, frantic practicing in said studio, put down a deposit on a new trailer. The old one has seen too many tours.
Played a killer show at Churchill's in Miami. Rick pulled triple duty on the drums playing for Wrong, House of Lightning and Torche. Burly! Overall an awesome send off. Next day we picked up the new stage banner, the incredible work of John Santos on an 8'x20' scale, then drove to Orlando and played a solid set. Local band I'm blanking on, but good band. Heavy Slint vibes. I suck/don't like talking about shows, ie: Miami was great, Orlando was great, etc. I suppose it's better than having to report, "Oh DUDE…. The shows have been complete, impenetrable bullshit!!" Side note on some tour necessities. Other than classy, obvious stuff like books, back up charger for iPhone, sunglasses, and a flask of scotch are medicated chapstick and Gold Bond medicated powder.

Shit's gonna real here for a second. The dual assault of increased alcohol consumption and general nutritional meltdown on tour can seriously do a number on your person, specifically your lower GI. You really can never drink enough water. You also don't have the advantage of your soft, fluffy home quality TP. That gas station stuff is unforgiving, and eventually you risk a seriously chapped, tattered BH. IT'S TRUE.

Here's what you do. Upon finishing your paperwork, apply a necessary amount of the Chapstick to a confident wad of TP and apply to "affected area." You laugh now, but I promise, your exhaust port will welcome the winter-mint relief. Almost as good as wet wipes, but infinitely more convenient. The Gold Bond medicated powder, is for your gross ass fucking feet/shoes/boots and of course, your delicate power trio. Magical ice dust! March 7th.
En route to Birmingham, AL, Bottle Tree, one of our fave venues. Show last night at Masquerade in Atlanta went way better than hoped.
Some minor confusion/amusement that night as upstairs was a free hip hop event called, "Torch," or was it the name of the artist? Who knows. Anyway, Torche vs Torch. Ha!

Jon is crazy ill! Flu? Food poisoning? Time will tell.

Random event: Bougie boutique, artisanal hippie girl in line at Park Grounds in Atlanta, holding up the line with her sheer brilliance asks the barista, "What's the difference between the iced coffee and the regular coffee?" Barista, in honest attempt to remain friendly and informative, "…..uh,… the iced coffee has ice in it?" Incredible. March 8th.
Birmingham blew the hell up. Crazy good show. Bottletree is closing in three weeks. What!?? Huge drag!!! What an immeasurable loss. We will miss it terribly. En route to Baton Rouge, searching for real food amid a desert of fast food. Old news for sure. Note: rarely are any of us listening to "metal" in the van, especially not anything current. Or least, we aren't listening to what I think people think we're listening to. It's not about being snobs, just is what it is. I wonder if people know this, or would be surprised. I've got Badfinger on the headphones. March 9th.

Good show at Spanish Moon in Baton Rouge, Wrong and Nothing sounding awesomer and awesomer each night. Love these dudes!

Jon finally seeing the light at the end of the food poisoning tunnel. Turns out, that light is at the bottom of a toilet. Risked more of the same when we all hit up a fairly busted late night diner after the show, Santos' salad resembling something only a catfish would eat, and he wouldn't be stoked on it.

On the way to the hotel last night, Rick discovered a cool new van feature: no turn signals and no break lights! Shit. Hit up a small family op auto shop in Lafayette, LA. Super friendly culture clash, "Are y'all in a band?" Lead mechanic sweated our van's Byzantine electrical system while his little son (grandson?), a sweet kid of about six or so, and deaf, observed closely. Steve ogled the awesome vintage green Cutlass under the car park. Now crammed full of tex mex, we haul ass to Houston.