To see paradise is a blessing, but to live in Paradise requires certain "credentials". Some souls that visit Paradise, even for extended periods, fall from this grace. Then, a wailing and gnashing of teeth. To know this distance, in oneself, is hard.
16.20 Satch Bus outside venue, Bergara (near Bilbao & San Sebastien), Spain.
The rest of the band is in town at Hotel Depressing.
The Happy Gigster's Guide has this advice: when you arrive at a hotel, if its appearance causes you to shake with fear, stay on the bus. The Guide has a footnote: If you are desperate to get off the bus, despite your fear, then leave your bags onboard & check out the hotel that provokes such terror. If you find yourself choking on smoke, feeling nauseous at the sight of the food, shielding your eyes from the dÈcor, then return to the bus: your bags will be waiting for you. Cling to them - they are your friends.
One of the Guide's injunctions is this: Trust your Gigster's experience! It has been paid for in repeated instalments of pain. And in parenthesis: (the payment is endless: it continues to be made in ongoing instalments of pain).
I left my bags on the bus, went into the hotel, smelt the smoke, saw the food, hid my eyes from the decor, and returned to the bus. My bags were waiting. My bags are my friends. I cling to them. The bus drove out to the venue.
The venue has been changed. It was relocated a week ago, from a nearby town: the promoter believed he could sell more tickets here. This is a standard feature of touring life in Italy and Spain where a confirmed venue is more along the lines of a very likely venue but somewhere else within the same region might be better - we'll see!
We arrive at the venue --
The runner's car? --
Still Life: Runner's Car With Fruit --
But no! This is not the venue. This is only the catering. This is the venue --
That's much better. And once inside things get even better than that. A Vision Of Hell, Bergara --
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