“Played a show in Sudbury last weekend and it was out of control. The show was good enough except some kid in the crowd accidentally hit the mic into my mouth and it tore my lip good. I knew at that time that I needed stitches but I didn’t have a clue where the hospital was so I let it slide but then it got bad a few days later and turned into mouth infection which was misdiagnosed at a clinic and then got into my lungs and turned into pneumonia so I had to go to the hospital. That sucked but it did get me out of a couple of exams which was great. ‘Cause Sudbury is sorta Billy’s hometown, he flew off the rails. I remember him eating a mouth full of pills after the set and being fucked up. I was wasted and I think we then went to get bottle service at his friend’s club then ended up at a house party. It’s hazy but I remember that at the house Billy stumbled backwards and fell into a laundry hamper and his arms and legs were sticking out the top of it then it split- like right out of a cartoon- and his was starfished out on the floor. At some point I guess he was running around using a road cone like a trumpet. It must’ve looked like the crazies escaped from the mental asylum.”- Page 18 of Journal #6 (November 17th, 2001- July 17th, 2002)

“Played a show in Sudbury last weekend and it was out of control. The show was good enough except some kid in the crowd accidentally hit the mic into my mouth and it tore my lip good. I knew at that time that I needed stitches but I didn’t have a clue where the hospital was so I let it slide but then it got bad a few days later and turned into mouth infection which was misdiagnosed at a clinic and then got into my lungs and turned into pneumonia so I had to go to the hospital. That sucked but it did get me out of a couple of exams which was great. ‘Cause Sudbury is sorta Billy’s hometown, he flew off the rails. I remember him eating a mouth full of pills after the set and being fucked up. I was wasted and I think we then went to get bottle service at his friend’s club then ended up at a house party. It’s hazy but I remember that at the house Billy stumbled backwards and fell into a laundry hamper and his arms and legs were sticking out the top of it then it split- like right out of a cartoon- and his was starfished out on the floor. At some point I guess he was running around using a road cone like a trumpet. It must’ve looked like the crazies escaped from the mental asylum.”

- Page 18 of Journal #6 (November 17th, 2001- July 17th, 2002)

“Billy almost made me shit my pants the over night. He smoked a bazillion joints at band practice and we got to talking about the band. Anyway, I’ve never seen Billy so stoned and he was like, “We gotta do something BIG to promote the band.” I was like, “Ya, sure. What’s your idea?”. He then dropped the most hilarious, outlandish plan I’ve ever heard. It was so insane that I couldn’t believe it. Cue drum roll- Bill said we should somehow make Bigfoot-styled foot print molds in some kind of ‘form’ and attach these to the bottom of some shoes AND walk around Mount Pleasant Cemetery leaving sasquatch foot impressions in damp soil all over the place. Bill then predicted that people would report the footprints to the authorities and the city would go wild with sasquatch fever, and it would be all over the TV, radio and papers. Then, when the fever was at its peak, we’d go magician-style and pull off the sheet and reveal- through a press release- that “Sasquatch foot prints were done by The Abandoned Hearts Club. Check out their new album…”, and media everywhere would run the story, people would cheer and we’d be like Bon fucking Jovi big. After he told us the plan- which took like 14 minutes because he was so baked and kept hashing it out as he told it- there was a silence then a huge ‘BAAHH HAHAHAHA’ from the entire band. I think RJ was literally rolling on the floor with laughter and Billy’s face then sorta scrunched up when it dawned on him that what he suggested was mondo fucking retarded. I don’t think he’ll ever live that one down. I just love that he cooked something up like that, like that in his baked brain it seemed like a real legit plan.”- Page 16 of Journal #6 (November 17th, 2001- July 17th, 2002)

“Billy almost made me shit my pants the over night. He smoked a bazillion joints at band practice and we got to talking about the band. Anyway, I’ve never seen Billy so stoned and he was like, “We gotta do something BIG to promote the band.” I was like, “Ya, sure. What’s your idea?”. He then dropped the most hilarious, outlandish plan I’ve ever heard. It was so insane that I couldn’t believe it. Cue drum roll- Bill said we should somehow make Bigfoot-styled foot print molds in some kind of ‘form’ and attach these to the bottom of some shoes AND walk around Mount Pleasant Cemetery leaving sasquatch foot impressions in damp soil all over the place. Bill then predicted that people would report the footprints to the authorities and the city would go wild with sasquatch fever, and it would be all over the TV, radio and papers. Then, when the fever was at its peak, we’d go magician-style and pull off the sheet and reveal- through a press release- that “Sasquatch foot prints were done by The Abandoned Hearts Club. Check out their new album…”, and media everywhere would run the story, people would cheer and we’d be like Bon fucking Jovi big. After he told us the plan- which took like 14 minutes because he was so baked and kept hashing it out as he told it- there was a silence then a huge ‘BAAHH HAHAHAHA’ from the entire band. I think RJ was literally rolling on the floor with laughter and Billy’s face then sorta scrunched up when it dawned on him that what he suggested was mondo fucking retarded. I don’t think he’ll ever live that one down. I just love that he cooked something up like that, like that in his baked brain it seemed like a real legit plan.”

- Page 16 of Journal #6 (November 17th, 2001- July 17th, 2002)

Us and The End played Milwaukee last night and some local kids were cool enough to put us up. We went back to their place and there was a bit of a party going on which was dope. I stayed up until 3AM but burnt out so I crashed out on the floor in another room. Not sure what totally happened but I guess at some point after 3AM some sketchy motherfuckers showed up- like crackhead types. Unsure why they didn’t get booted but they didn’t. So, we wake up this morning and we’re loading all our bags into our vans and it turns out that Tunny’s bag is straight up gone. We turn the house upside down and it just isn’t there. Everyone convenes and someone’s like, “I bet one of those crackheads stole the bag.” Unfortunately, Tunny’s bag was the worse one to steal because it had all his epilepsy meds in it. So, we’re outside and everyone decided to split into teams of two to go scour the neighborhood to find the crackheads. We were about to leave and Tunny’s epilepsy kicked in and he took a nasty spill into the pavement. It was actually really scary to see him have a seizure and for us to be powerless without his meds. Luckily, Billy stepped up to the plate and took Tunny inside and he ‘came to’ as Billy washed all his cuts which are pretty gnarly. Needless to say, this had the affect of firing everyone up and making them vengeful. Honestly, I’ve never seen Scorpion or Hercules that pissed before. Turns out that on their walk they found one of they sketchy guys from the party. I still don’t know the full story but that guy somehow took them to someone that knew where the bag was. Surprisingly, the bag was retrieved. The meds were in there but some cash and all of Tunny’s ID was gone. I’m glad we got his meds back but now we gotta deal with the fucking nightmare of getting his ID replaced when we’re in America (because we can’t cross back into Canada with him having no ID). Touring is just like this constant battle against adversity. But if everyone sticks together, you can weather it.”- Page 3 of Journal #7 (July 17th, 2002 - April 27th, 2003)

Us and The End played Milwaukee last night and some local kids were cool enough to put us up. We went back to their place and there was a bit of a party going on which was dope. I stayed up until 3AM but burnt out so I crashed out on the floor in another room. Not sure what totally happened but I guess at some point after 3AM some sketchy motherfuckers showed up- like crackhead types. Unsure why they didn’t get booted but they didn’t. So, we wake up this morning and we’re loading all our bags into our vans and it turns out that Tunny’s bag is straight up gone. We turn the house upside down and it just isn’t there. Everyone convenes and someone’s like, “I bet one of those crackheads stole the bag.” Unfortunately, Tunny’s bag was the worse one to steal because it had all his epilepsy meds in it. So, we’re outside and everyone decided to split into teams of two to go scour the neighborhood to find the crackheads. We were about to leave and Tunny’s epilepsy kicked in and he took a nasty spill into the pavement. It was actually really scary to see him have a seizure and for us to be powerless without his meds. Luckily, Billy stepped up to the plate and took Tunny inside and he ‘came to’ as Billy washed all his cuts which are pretty gnarly. Needless to say, this had the affect of firing everyone up and making them vengeful. Honestly, I’ve never seen Scorpion or Hercules that pissed before. Turns out that on their walk they found one of they sketchy guys from the party. I still don’t know the full story but that guy somehow took them to someone that knew where the bag was. Surprisingly, the bag was retrieved. The meds were in there but some cash and all of Tunny’s ID was gone. I’m glad we got his meds back but now we gotta deal with the fucking nightmare of getting his ID replaced when we’re in America (because we can’t cross back into Canada with him having no ID). Touring is just like this constant battle against adversity. But if everyone sticks together, you can weather it.”

- Page 3 of Journal #7 (July 17th, 2002 - April 27th, 2003)

“I was trying to be low-key in a Florida supermarket because I didn’t want to buy shit / just wanted to walk around in the AC because it was hotter than a motherfucker outside. So, I’m minding my own business and I see something outta the corner of my eye and it’s Billy with some dick-like giant-ass yam or yucca fucking the air. These guys are fucking retards. Always foiling my plans…”- Page 3 of Journal #7 (July 17th, 2002 - April 27th, 2003)

“I was trying to be low-key in a Florida supermarket because I didn’t want to buy shit / just wanted to walk around in the AC because it was hotter than a motherfucker outside. So, I’m minding my own business and I see something outta the corner of my eye and it’s Billy with some dick-like giant-ass yam or yucca fucking the air. These guys are fucking retards. Always foiling my plans…”

- Page 3 of Journal #7 (July 17th, 2002 - April 27th, 2003)

“Where to begin? Bunch of shows fell through so there was debate within the band as to what to do. The majority of the band wanted to go back to Canada and resume the Canadian dates in a few days. However, Billy and I were just like, “Fuck going home, let’s stay out and kill time!” Everyone else moaned about wanting to sleep in their beds so they left, and Bill and I decided to hitchhike because adventure is better than regular life. So that was it. Band split (fuckers) and Billy and I had to get ourselves from Chicopee, Massachusetts to Maine because that’s where Billy’s girl was going to meet us to drive us to Montreal. First part of hitchhiking sucked. We fucking walked for miles on the highway in the blazing sun with no rides then a cop pulled over and told us to get the fuck off the highway, and to hitch on ramps. Rough fucking start. Good thing was that we then started to get some rides when we were standing like dickheads on the on-ramps. They ranged from like 10 minutes (sorta bullshit) to like 90 minutes (awesome). I’m surprised people picked us up. Billy is so skinny from tour he looks like a crackhead dying from AIDS and I looked liked a weirdo in red shots and no socks. All types picked us up- it was real dope. This world is an asshole but some people are kind. Only got weird when these Thelma and Louise bitches picked us up and told us they wanted to take us somewhere so we could help them get some ‘stuff’ from a ‘place’ in the middle of the night. Sounded like they wanted us to do a robbery so we were like ‘fuck this’ and got out. They were gross but that’s coming from a guy in red shorts. Day #1 wasn’t the best- it was like 14 hours of standing around / some rides to only get like 60 miles. Upside was that we found some cool shit on the highway like smokes and small change and bought beer in plastic bottles (America’s fucked). It got late and no one was picking us up because we probably looked like serial killers (more so Bill than me) so we pitched my tent on the side of the highway. Was sorta bullshit because we didn’t have pillows or sleeping bags then there was a fuckload of mosquitos then it got dewy and the tent started slipping down the hill because I pitched it on the angled side of the highway. It was a fucking mess. That was a fucking low point so we ‘woke up’ at 5AM which just meant jamming the tent in my backpack and sat at a gas station eating chips. You know what though? It was fucking rad because I love Bill and he’s so fucking gung ho about adventure that even when it was objectively terrible it was fun as motherfucking shit. Day #2 was better. Some business guy picked us up and then he pulled out a pipe and fucking smoked all this weed in front of us. Didn’t even offer us any which was devastating but he was driving us so you gotta take the good with the bad. Howeves, he got so stoned he took this big-ass detour to show us some 2 mile long airfield from WWII. I think Billy thought it was interesting but you know what an old fucking airfield looks like? A new fucking airfield!!! I ain’t falling for that shit again. Anyway, ‘weed airfield’ guy did drop us off on the edge of Portsmouth so that was good. Took 8 rides over 21 hours to cover like 140 miles which is like, what 2 hours of driving? We fucking hauled ass through town (like almost running at that point) to the ocean because we thought it would be kick ass to dive in because we stunk like asshole and stale balls. So we run over the beach, whip all our shit everywhere and tear into the ocean but know what? The fucking ocean was like 4 degrees- turns out it’s fucking freezing this north even in the goddamn summer. Maine ocean ain’t like South Carolina ocean. Sorta wish I knew that in advance- was kinda the motivator to hitchhike and hit the beach, you know? What a fucking scam! But, whatever I turned 21 today and this was the best birthday ever.”- Page 12 of Journal #7 (July 17th, 2002 - April 27th, 2003)

“Where to begin? Bunch of shows fell through so there was debate within the band as to what to do. The majority of the band wanted to go back to Canada and resume the Canadian dates in a few days. However, Billy and I were just like, “Fuck going home, let’s stay out and kill time!” Everyone else moaned about wanting to sleep in their beds so they left, and Bill and I decided to hitchhike because adventure is better than regular life. So that was it. Band split (fuckers) and Billy and I had to get ourselves from Chicopee, Massachusetts to Maine because that’s where Billy’s girl was going to meet us to drive us to Montreal. First part of hitchhiking sucked. We fucking walked for miles on the highway in the blazing sun with no rides then a cop pulled over and told us to get the fuck off the highway, and to hitch on ramps. Rough fucking start. Good thing was that we then started to get some rides when we were standing like dickheads on the on-ramps. They ranged from like 10 minutes (sorta bullshit) to like 90 minutes (awesome). I’m surprised people picked us up. Billy is so skinny from tour he looks like a crackhead dying from AIDS and I looked liked a weirdo in red shots and no socks. All types picked us up- it was real dope. This world is an asshole but some people are kind. Only got weird when these Thelma and Louise bitches picked us up and told us they wanted to take us somewhere so we could help them get some ‘stuff’ from a ‘place’ in the middle of the night. Sounded like they wanted us to do a robbery so we were like ‘fuck this’ and got out. They were gross but that’s coming from a guy in red shorts. Day #1 wasn’t the best- it was like 14 hours of standing around / some rides to only get like 60 miles. Upside was that we found some cool shit on the highway like smokes and small change and bought beer in plastic bottles (America’s fucked). It got late and no one was picking us up because we probably looked like serial killers (more so Bill than me) so we pitched my tent on the side of the highway. Was sorta bullshit because we didn’t have pillows or sleeping bags then there was a fuckload of mosquitos then it got dewy and the tent started slipping down the hill because I pitched it on the angled side of the highway. It was a fucking mess. That was a fucking low point so we ‘woke up’ at 5AM which just meant jamming the tent in my backpack and sat at a gas station eating chips. You know what though? It was fucking rad because I love Bill and he’s so fucking gung ho about adventure that even when it was objectively terrible it was fun as motherfucking shit. Day #2 was better. Some business guy picked us up and then he pulled out a pipe and fucking smoked all this weed in front of us. Didn’t even offer us any which was devastating but he was driving us so you gotta take the good with the bad. Howeves, he got so stoned he took this big-ass detour to show us some 2 mile long airfield from WWII. I think Billy thought it was interesting but you know what an old fucking airfield looks like? A new fucking airfield!!! I ain’t falling for that shit again. Anyway, ‘weed airfield’ guy did drop us off on the edge of Portsmouth so that was good. Took 8 rides over 21 hours to cover like 140 miles which is like, what 2 hours of driving? We fucking hauled ass through town (like almost running at that point) to the ocean because we thought it would be kick ass to dive in because we stunk like asshole and stale balls. So we run over the beach, whip all our shit everywhere and tear into the ocean but know what? The fucking ocean was like 4 degrees- turns out it’s fucking freezing this north even in the goddamn summer. Maine ocean ain’t like South Carolina ocean. Sorta wish I knew that in advance- was kinda the motivator to hitchhike and hit the beach, you know? What a fucking scam! But, whatever I turned 21 today and this was the best birthday ever.”

- Page 12 of Journal #7 (July 17th, 2002 - April 27th, 2003)

“Billy makes these insane faces when he’s showing you new riffs where he’s going ‘DA DA DA’ while head banging to imitate drums while strumming then goes ‘JAH JAH JAH’ and making screwy faces when he’s imitating distortion. It always cracks me up. It’s like a physical exorcism to get the riff’s vibe out into the world. The guy is fucked but in a good way!” - Page 11 of Journal #6 (November 17th, 2001- July 17th, 2002)

“Billy makes these insane faces when he’s showing you new riffs where he’s going ‘DA DA DA’ while head banging to imitate drums while strumming then goes ‘JAH JAH JAH’ and making screwy faces when he’s imitating distortion. It always cracks me up. It’s like a physical exorcism to get the riff’s vibe out into the world. The guy is fucked but in a good way!”

- Page 11 of Journal #6 (November 17th, 2001- July 17th, 2002)

“Being on the road in the van is fucking boring so you gotta make your own fun and spice things up from time to time. This is why Billy shoved a beef jerky into his asshole and waved it over Shawn’s face. I was in stitches when he was rubbing spit on his asshole and trying to cram it in there while saying, “It ain’t going to fit.” He was pleased as punch when he finally got it in. “- Page 35 of Journal #6 (November 17th, 2001- July 17th, 2002)

“Being on the road in the van is fucking boring so you gotta make your own fun and spice things up from time to time. This is why Billy shoved a beef jerky into his asshole and waved it over Shawn’s face. I was in stitches when he was rubbing spit on his asshole and trying to cram it in there while saying, “It ain’t going to fit.” He was pleased as punch when he finally got it in. “

- Page 35 of Journal #6 (November 17th, 2001- July 17th, 2002)

“Bill sat on the floor which jacked up his pant leg and exposed the shittiest ganja leaf tattoo ever. We all started howling and he was like, “Fuck off, I got it when I was young and dumb.” I was like, “How old? Like 14?” and he replied that he got it in his early twenties which made us howl even harder. Who in their right mind gets a ganja tattoo when they’re like 22?”- Page 15 of Journal #5 (December 19th, 2000 - November 6th, 2001)

“Bill sat on the floor which jacked up his pant leg and exposed the shittiest ganja leaf tattoo ever. We all started howling and he was like, “Fuck off, I got it when I was young and dumb.” I was like, “How old? Like 14?” and he replied that he got it in his early twenties which made us howl even harder. Who in their right mind gets a ganja tattoo when they’re like 22?”

- Page 15 of Journal #5 (December 19th, 2000 - November 6th, 2001)

“Fuckin’ Gymbo! Dude pissed RIGHT IN the ollie hole in Billy’s shoe- like pissed right into his foot! Guy’s got aim!”- Page 26 of Journal #7 (July 17th, 2002 - April 27th, 2003)

“Fuckin’ Gymbo! Dude pissed RIGHT IN the ollie hole in Billy’s shoe- like pissed right into his foot! Guy’s got aim!”

- Page 26 of Journal #7 (July 17th, 2002 - April 27th, 2003)

“Billy was literally popping off. Not really sure what the point of it was though.”- Page 17 of Journal #6 (November 17th, 2001- July 17th, 2002)

“Billy was literally popping off. Not really sure what the point of it was though.”

- Page 17 of Journal #6 (November 17th, 2001- July 17th, 2002)