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It's now 12:11 PM Eastern Standard Time on 4/19, and I'm in the house of my upbringing in Westfield, NJ. Mike likes to call it Casa Beller...to me, it's home. Michael Harrison and Frank Briggs are still sleeping--I think I hear Keneally milling around downstairs. For all intents and purposes, the East Coast leg of our little tour is over, and this was the first night of solid sleep we've gotten in at least four days. Now, I'm not going to try and do the typical Bryan Beller long-winded description of each day's events...it would run about 30-40 pages, and besides, Mr. K is gonna do the Road Diary thing for this tour eventually, so I'll leave the chronological storytelling up to him. So what am I going to write? I believe I'll use the least respected of all newspaper column formats--the "notes on a napkin" thing, where a bunch of random thoughts are listed in no particular order. Well, OK...I'll explain each random thought a bit. Just a few pages of explanation for each random thought. Shit, we're back up to 30 pages again. Oh well.

When renting a van to use for a tour, consider the name of the company from which you wish to procure your vehicle and think a little bit about what that might mean for you and your travel plans.

In this particular case, I was in charge of trying to find a suitable van for all of BFD's touring needs. Believe it or not, I was on the fucking phone for about five hours calling every rental company known to man trying to get us either a large passenger van or a cargo van. Nowhere in the entire New York Metropolitan area would let us remove seats from a passenger van, and cargo vans were only available from U-Haul and Ryder, and only for a period of a couple of days at a time. There was only one company who would help us...Rent-A-Wreck. And they weren't kidding about the name, folks. Our 1989 Chevy Cargo Van, complete with dents, scary engine noises and 88,000 miles on it, is the single most frightening thing I've ever had to drive for any length of time. It just had the two bucket seats in the front--we had to steal lawn chairs from my parents' patio to jimmy-rig a backseat for poor Frank and Michael Harrison. The passenger side rear-view mirror had chunks missing. The side door wouldn't shut without exerting Conan-like force upon it. The radio...oh, that's right, there was a big, gaping hole where the radio once was (only due to the kindness of Sarah Fliegel and her two sons, Lenny and Bobby, were we able to procure a circa 1979 boombox/TV with a line in to satisfy our car audio needs.) Finally, while on our way from Nashua, NH to Hanover, MA (Red Square North to Jon Finn's house), we saw white smoke billowing out of the back of the beast, followed by a "there's something very wrong with the car" smell coming from the vents. The next thing we knew, smoke was filling up the inside of the van--it was around this time that I noticed that the temperature gage was reading at around 18,000 degrees Fahrenheit. Those damn radiators. I hate it when they don't work right. After a couple of hours on the side of the road, the world's dumbest tow truck operator dragged the beast back to Jon Finn's house, where we all got to sleep at around 6:30 AM. The only thing sicker than the fact that we rented it at all was the way we longed for it while we had to drive Rent-A-Wreck's substitute vehicle--a Chevy Astro minivan with an extended ceiling for handicapped persons. It wasn't nearly large enough to accommodate us comfortably during our rain-soaked drives up and back to Burlington, VT, and when we picked up the old beast again, Mike and I shouted with glee. By the time we got back to NJ, the side door wouldn't shut at all. Joe Dickless at Rent-A-Wreck in East Orange, NJ will be hearing from me shortly. This, by the way, is about the only negative thing that happened to us on the entire tour.

Michael Harrison has amazing magical powers.

Do you all know Michael Harrison? I described him as an angel in the last Act, but I didn't know how right I was. First of all, he's the only thing we have that even resembles a crew out here, and not only has he been invaluable in that area, he's also been filming excerpts of shows and candid moments on real film (the kind that has the word "millimeter" at the end of it). But even better than that, he's been a virtual quote machine of the highest order. Immediately following the Berklee College Of Music show in Boston, MA, we had to leave for Westfield, NJ in order to be in the vicinity of NYC for a 3:30 soundcheck. This means that we left Boston at around 12:30 AM, and needed to stay up for about five hours in order to make it. I was driving. By around 3:00 AM, the so-fucking-hateful stretch of Interstate 84 from the Massachusetts Turnpike to Brewster, CT had put me in a near coma, and I needed help to stay awake so I wouldn't kill us all. Among other non-sequiturs that were spoken with the intent of making us laugh hard enough to stay awake were this gem, from Michael Harrison: "You know what happens to the bunny rabbits when you start to eat their little chocolate legs? They go 'ow ow ow ow!'" Another great Harrison moment was when, after Keneally spent 3 hours judging a guitar contest in Burlington, VT with Trey Anastasio from Phish at his side (more about this later), Keneally asked Michael what he thought of the 29 guitarists they had just endured. Harrison: "I thought they were all verrrry goood." But his true magic came on Berklee day (4/17), when he came down with a bad flu and locked himself in the van for four hours, shaking and sweating and being unhealthy. I became everything boy at that point...tour manager, roadie, driver, bassist, Berklee liaison...but six hours later, he was well enough to show his film-projector background at the Berklee Performance Center show, and worked well into the night. He has magical powers. He also has done unspeakable things to help us in the San Francisco area. I'm glad we know him.

Some of you people are scary.

Yeah, I'm talking to you. Actually, it was really interesting to put faces to go with the e-mail personalities I've encountered here at Life Of Bryan, Inc. In all seriousness, it was really cool to personally greet some of the many people I've met through this here page, and it was wonderful to have you guys and gals (OK, just guys mostly) at the shows, knowing the material, following along with us in our ever-evolving attempt to do Keneally's music justice and have a good time in the process. A couple of awards...person who looks most like I had pictured--Jeff Parsons...person who looked least like I had pictured--Steve Dick...the "brought the most people to the show" award (not through promotion, just friends with them at the show)--Ilya Stenkovsky...most shows attended--Cindy Zeuli (now there's a big fucking surprise)...the networking award--Mark Greenberg (who tracked us down at Jon Finn's house)...and, the most familiar with Keneally's material award--George Hrab, who would yell "woo!" on beat two of the bass solo in "My Dilemma" and scream "hat hat hat hat hat" at the end of "Day Of The Cow 2". You people are cool, man. Thanks to all...you've made this so worth doing, I can't even begin to describe how grateful I am. (Eyes welling up with tears, gulping sounds...) ....WAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!! (Not to be confused with "Wah Wah Wah", the previous "Waaaahhhh" is the sound of me getting emotional with y'all. Sorry.)

More people should know about Jon Finn.

Without Jon Finn, we would never have made it to the East Coast at all. He let us into his home, and he and his lovely wife Beth cooked for us. Their twin offspring, Ashley and Steven, are gorgeous. And, as well as being the pre-eminent rock guitar instructor at Berklee College Of Music, he has an instrumental rock trio called The Jon Finn Group with Joe Santerre on bass and Dave DiCenso on drums. They have a CD out entitled "Don't Look So Serious" on Legato Records, but it doesn't do them justice compared to what we saw live...they're amazing. We performed with them in Nashua, NH (total crazy five-bands-load-in-at-once-with-no-soundcheck vibe), Burlington, VT (with the best soundman we've ever met, Serge...I sang "Good Morning Sometime" like a real pro) and, naturally, at the Berklee Performance Center. Jon made it possible for us to be paid to play in this beautiful sounding hall in front of very appreciative Berklee students. Hopefully, one day, we can repay the awesome favors Mr. Finn has bestowed upon us. Until then, if you get a chance, check him out.

Burlington, VT, is the most beautiful place in the entire Northeast.

It rained on the way there, and it fucking poured on the way back, but Burlington is the coolest city I've probably ever been in. The music scene there is so alive, it's just scary...the people who run the business end of it are cool enough to actually take you to the most gorgeous spot of the city, right on the lake, and just hang out with you (Mike Trombley, of Advance Music, this goes out to you)...the radio station isn't afraid to play "'Cause Of Breakfast" during drivetime hours...the only way I could do it justice is to say this--often, I stutter and act confused when a West Coaster asks why I would ever want to move back to the Eastland with all of its shitty weather and lack of scenery and toll-laden highways. Now I can just ask them if they've ever been in Burlington, VT. If they say no, I can just tell them to go there and then they will understand. Oh yeah, before I forget, Mike hung out with Trey Anastasio of Phish all night on 4/14, and they discussed the "BFD plays a Phish album on Halloween" idea. It went very well, and the business end of it seems to be moving forward as well. Mike will tell you more about his in due time.

I Love New York.

There really isn't any way to put what happened at the Bottom Line into words. The Ed Palermo Big Band turned out to be the most compelling Zappa cover band we'd ever heard, and with Keneally sitting in...the only way I can describe it is this: it was what Zappa's Universe should have been. Mike has very strong feelings about this night, and it's best to leave the detailed description up to him. BFD's sets were received more positively in NYC than anywhere else, with a crowd of over 250 for the first show screaming in delight as we finished "Breakfast" to close the first set. As Keneally put it, "I could get used to this". Me too. Here's a NY story for you...a 19-year-old fan was initially turned away from the 21-and-over club, spurring on fears of my younger sister not being able to get in. So I approached the doorman, a likable sort named Jonathan, and said, "I have a 17-year-old sister". "Cool!", he replied. I then informed him that she was indeed hot, but in order for him to even have a shot at her, she'd have to be able to get into the club. Jonathan then happily led me to the floor manager, a dyed-in-the-wool New Yorker whose name I forget. As Jonathan explained the situation to him, he grew annoyed, saying, "You know the policy, right?" Jonathan stammered as the guy continued to berate him playfully. "Children accompanied by an adult get in. Right? Is she family? She is? Why are you bothering me with this? You're an idiot.". Then he turns to me. "And you're an idiot. Go get a piece of pizza or something, will ya?" The night ended with yours truly talking business with Allan Pepper, a veteran club booker in his mid-50's. I felt empowered, and we discussed the probability of the double-bill's return in late fall. You really need to hear from Keneally about this night.

Asbury Park, NJ, is a nice place to visit.

Are you the kind of folk that believe everything you read? I think better of you than that. OK, here are some random thoughts...

Doing clinics is hard. Doing clinics at Berklee is especially hard.

My mom makes really good sandwiches.

Frank Briggs sleeps a lot.

Whenever I get near Vermont, my right nut swells up.

I should watch what I write in here...some people didn't take too kindly to the reference to the "sucking corporate cock" sentence in the last Act. My official apology will be in the next "Mike Types To You". Until then, I'll just have to let Doug Marhoffer kick my sorry ass in pool all over San Francisco.

A lot of drummers want the BFD gig.

There is a BIG difference in the way East Coast people and West Coast people drive in the rain. This isn't big news, but having it demonstrated so clearly makes me wonder even harder about the air quality in Los Angeles...does it make them incapable of using their brains while switching lanes, let alone their turn signals?

The staff at the Bottom Line doesn't like it when you're late for soundcheck. You have to play really well, and then they like you again.

Toss Panos sounds great on "Half Alive In Hollywood", and I can't wait for it to come out.

I'll do anything I have to in order to make this project successful.

Does that surprise anyone? I suppose just attempting to drive our van is proof of that. There's nothing like making the most important decision of your life, and then three months later you find out that the world is telling you in every way imaginable that you're properly aligned with the heavens. I feel fucking blessed.

I have to go now...please forgive me for the lack of a clever ending. If I think of more stuff, I'll write it later. The West Coast awaits us...............B.B.

April 30: Postcard received reading "To the page readers...Mike and I both apologize profusely for the lack of writing. When we come back, we'll write tons. Love, B.B." Mike adds, in jagged writing, "This van is shaky."

Read Mike's report from the road over at
Mr. Mike's Tales From The Tour.