Warsawa (Var(d(roll that r))shava) III

Warsaw, Poland

I awaken. Half-alive, belching a flavor not unlike rubbing alcohol. The reminder of recently peppered glass-flakes coating my gums doesn’t like the toxic fumes emanating from my definitely acid-reflux-ing wodka-gas-chamber-stomach. Am I on a cruise ship? Better yet… a 1920’s cruise ship? Sure as hell feels like it. Alas – the reminder of why I don’t drink the hard stuff if it ain’t in a Pre-prohibition-era cocktail… My eyeballs feel like they’re swimming in a fish tank that is my skull; my stomach sloshes with each moaning turn I make to attempt to congeal onto the floor to find some water. I try to look at my hands – they’re quivering – or wait. Is that my vision quivering? 

**** vodka. Continue reading

Warsawa (Var(d(roll that r))shava) II

Warsaw, Poland

After a well-deserved sleep, Robert and I headed off to meet with Magda and Hubert (Magda’s bf, Polish soldier, and soon-to-be good new pal). The lunch spot we met up at was The Inn Under The Red Hog; a Polish communist-era themed restaurant. They had an old commie-car out front… the menus were all designed like the communist propaganda newspapers… this was a rad spot. Apparently some celebrities from back in the States will even pop into this place occasionally. Bruce Willis with your pork lard anyone? Continue reading

Warsawa (Var(d(roll that r))shava) I

Warsaw, Poland

Thanks to a few of my good friends in Poland, I am beyond delighted to say that Warsaw, Poland holds a very special place in my heart. I don’t know how many people know ****-all about Poland outside of what we learned in school… but I tell you – if you don’t and you don’t want to get out and eat what the Polish eat and see what the Polish see – you are missing out severely my closed-minded “friend.” Let’s face it – I’ve brought it up numerous times, and I’ll bring it up again: musicians have an amazing job – they travel the world essentially for free and have hours upon hours of spare time to see and eat the world. I’ve met more touring guys who hate being overseas than love it; who hate the food overseas; who could care less about the ways of life of the people around the world who make it possible for them to do what they do (and take that for granted). It pains me to think of these kinds of people. If you have a mindset like that… we probably aren’t friends and probably won’t be. You’re probably a picky, finicky, know-it-all, jaded prick anyways. Me? I know you only live once… life is short – live that shit! Continue reading