the van was broken into and two guitars, the gasbag (ziplock with a few hundred in cash and all the receipts needed for the books with respect to this tour), and my knife were stolen. new york’s finest has no leads, per se, but suspects this to be the work of whichever particular crackhead gang claims this particular block as there own and we will, in all liklihood, never get any of this back and forever bear the sadly common scars of a band that has been raped. there are other details surrounding this that make it even more wretched and fucked up, but they affect others that i don’t feel justified in speaking on the behalf of.
it was a good crowd in new york, which i think we were all honestly surprised by. dave was saved by cherub rock on a bridge, i calmed down because of a frozen mud puddle and the postal service. misha got to see old friends with fake names and samurai hair, and nitzan got a decent sandwich at three am. we are all alive and we are unhurt and there are people that love us in places that we will see soon.