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The hobo dog
She came out of nowhere, skinny little thing, jumping with joy, greeted me as if we were long lost friends
finally reunited, carelessly messing up the beach towel I had meticulously laid-out.
Shussh, go away, skinny thing,
Go. Go.
But she seemed determined to
ignore my shushing, and having sniffed my face and all my belongings,
decided to park herself right next to me. I thought... just let the dog be.
decided to park herself right next to me. I thought... just let the dog be.
With sunglasses on, I decided to
take a better look at the creature: her skin had patches where the fur
no longer resisted the glaring sun or had fallen prey to some infection, the little tits sagging underneath
must have given birth to many a homeless litter, the ribs sticking out.
no longer resisted the glaring sun or had fallen prey to some infection, the little tits sagging underneath
must have given birth to many a homeless litter, the ribs sticking out.
She must be hungry.
Every now and then, I'd walk up
to the sea for a swim, and she would immediately jump up, follow me
right up to the shore and watch me swim with great attention, her little ears upright, avoiding the breaking
waves, like little children do.
right up to the shore and watch me swim with great attention, her little ears upright, avoiding the breaking
waves, like little children do.
By midday, as the sun got
hotter, she would hide underneath the deck-chair, dazing off curled up,
and only be disturbed by some undetectable smell, when she would dart off into a specific spot in the
sand, and dig very fast and vigorously, and return, prey-free, with her little snout covered in sand.
and only be disturbed by some undetectable smell, when she would dart off into a specific spot in the
sand, and dig very fast and vigorously, and return, prey-free, with her little snout covered in sand.
I watched this behaviour all-day-long
and was trying to work out what the digging frenzy was all about,
when one time she returned, triumphantly, with the tiniest piece of soft crab hanging off her mouth.
She'd been hunting for beach-crabs, and by the looks of it, failing miserably at most attempts.
when one time she returned, triumphantly, with the tiniest piece of soft crab hanging off her mouth.
She'd been hunting for beach-crabs, and by the looks of it, failing miserably at most attempts.
It must be hard I thought, this
having to constantly look for food - barely managing a bite - like so many
people do: they wake up not worried about the weather or the traffic, but where and how they're gonna find
enough food just to survive.
people do: they wake up not worried about the weather or the traffic, but where and how they're gonna find
enough food just to survive.
I spent 10 days on the beach,
and we got into our little routine: I would get up, make coffee, and as soon
as I opened the small gate of the blue wooden-house that led into the beach, she would turn up within
seconds, jumping, tail wagging, as if she'd been watching that gate, waiting for my arrival to start her day.
as I opened the small gate of the blue wooden-house that led into the beach, she would turn up within
seconds, jumping, tail wagging, as if she'd been watching that gate, waiting for my arrival to start her day.
One afternoon a jogger appeared,
a handsome 20-something year old boy running the length of the wide
beach - she did not like him, and went after him, barking loudly, jumping nervously, her small frame
tightened into an angry shape, as she carried on barking until he was nothing but a harmless out of focus
figure, disappearing into the horizon.
beach - she did not like him, and went after him, barking loudly, jumping nervously, her small frame
tightened into an angry shape, as she carried on barking until he was nothing but a harmless out of focus
figure, disappearing into the horizon.
She came back, stared straight
at me, as if to say: Did you see that? I'm looking after you, you know?
I thought, I'm not sure I can
remember when was the last time in my life, if ever, someone, anyone,
had tried to protect me with such determination and vigour.
had tried to protect me with such determination and vigour.
I decided to giver her a treat.
I went back to the beach house
and grabbed a few slices of ham and a bunch of small fried prawns.
Here, have some nice ham - here
doggy girl, eat nice little prawns, eat!
She sniffed the food without
much interest, and did not eat a single bite.
She just sat by the deck-chair, staring at the vast expanse before us, occasionally looking at me,
well composed and satisfied, as if everything in the Universe was just in its rightful place and order.
She just sat by the deck-chair, staring at the vast expanse before us, occasionally looking at me,
well composed and satisfied, as if everything in the Universe was just in its rightful place and order.
The afternoon fell with the sun
setting right before us and below the green and deep blue sea.
The sky was enormous, the colours, a gradient so spectacular, fine and perfect,
no artist could ever conceive or dare recreate.
The sky was enormous, the colours, a gradient so spectacular, fine and perfect,
no artist could ever conceive or dare recreate.
That was when I realised, the
skinny hobo dog wasn't after my food after all, she, like all of us,
was just looking for some company.
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was just looking for some company.
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La Berliner
Most people assume that being part of a rock'n'll band will instantly
grant you access to non-stop craze
parties, and that having a guitar 'round your neck will immediately turn you into a sex-pot, attracting a
never-ending procession of willing fans and admirers.
parties, and that having a guitar 'round your neck will immediately turn you into a sex-pot, attracting a
never-ending procession of willing fans and admirers.
Let's get the record straight: this assumption is: - (very long pause) -
totally correct.
But, as anyone who's ever been in a band will also tell you, the tour
schedules are so gruelling,
the pressures and demands so intense, that more often than not all you want to do, after having spent all
day travelling and an emotionally draining gig, is to have a couple of quiet drinks with the band and hit the
pillow.
the pressures and demands so intense, that more often than not all you want to do, after having spent all
day travelling and an emotionally draining gig, is to have a couple of quiet drinks with the band and hit the
pillow.
That is not to say we didn't, on occasion, have some out-of-control fun
on the road, or that sometimes even
workaholic monteiro didn't get carried away by temptation.
workaholic monteiro didn't get carried away by temptation.
Yep, I did (and dare I say: still do...)
- I probably had more fun than legally allowed, but, as a rule,
preferred to keep the more, shall we say, extra-curricular relations, with whoever I either happened to be
in love with or had the misfortune to have my affections bestowed upon, rather than the 1st devoted fan that
walked into the dressing-room.
preferred to keep the more, shall we say, extra-curricular relations, with whoever I either happened to be
in love with or had the misfortune to have my affections bestowed upon, rather than the 1st devoted fan that
walked into the dressing-room.
Until, that is, that early gig in Berlin, when on such occasion my
behaviour and actions led to a much
dreaded 'band-only' anecdote, that would haunt me for the rest of my days in Drugstore.
dreaded 'band-only' anecdote, that would haunt me for the rest of my days in Drugstore.
To the tale:
We were travelling 'round Europe
supporting other bands and promoting our 1st album for GoDiscs.
We hit Berlin
a post-gig celebratory drinks at a trendy local bar. This is the kind of thing most bands absolutely hate to do:
schmoozing music-biz ratones, but it's something everyone gets used to, as sometimes being nice to the
record company people, can help ensure they're gonna do a decent job with your album campaign.
a post-gig celebratory drinks at a trendy local bar. This is the kind of thing most bands absolutely hate to do:
schmoozing music-biz ratones, but it's something everyone gets used to, as sometimes being nice to the
record company people, can help ensure they're gonna do a decent job with your album campaign.
So there we were, at this hip bar, sitting center-stage on a huge table,
surrounded by some 20 or so biz people,
trying to be nice, and hopefully leave'em with a positive impression of our band.
trying to be nice, and hopefully leave'em with a positive impression of our band.
I walked up to the bar, got talking to a friendly bartender, who, god
knows why, started pouring free shots of
Tequila - one after the other, while a couple of meters away, everyone else at the vips' table, were bemusedly
watching me getting completely plastered.
Tequila - one after the other, while a couple of meters away, everyone else at the vips' table, were bemusedly
watching me getting completely plastered.
And completely plastered I got.
At some point we started kissing, him on the 'working' side of the bar,
me, half-falling off the stool.
More tequilas = more kisses, and things were really heating-up.
Just for the record: I don't have
a habit of smooching strangers, but (takes deep blushing breath), It
happened:
The barman has a word with his manager and asks to end his shift early, jumps off the counter and we're off to
the loo, to do that thing that people do together in loos, only when very drunk or very horny, or as in this case:
a lethal combination of both.
The barman has a word with his manager and asks to end his shift early, jumps off the counter and we're off to
the loo, to do that thing that people do together in loos, only when very drunk or very horny, or as in this case:
a lethal combination of both.
And so it was that band, crew and all the music-biz vips watched in
disbelief, as I staggered, half-unbuttoned
shirt to the toilette, passionately hanging on to my new best berliner friend.
shirt to the toilette, passionately hanging on to my new best berliner friend.
What band and crew didn't know and, subsequently found very hard to
believe, was that once we got inside
the loo, the minute he lift me up onto the sink, and just as his fly was about to get undone, I felt sick, very very
sick, and threw-up all over his shirt, my shirt - everywhere. We stopped.
the loo, the minute he lift me up onto the sink, and just as his fly was about to get undone, I felt sick, very very
sick, and threw-up all over his shirt, my shirt - everywhere. We stopped.
You know when you're very drunk and then suddenly the mood turns?
The room was swaying from side to side. I felt really awful and seriously dizzy.
The room was swaying from side to side. I felt really awful and seriously dizzy.
He got me some water, gave me a hug, and said: think it's time for you
to go home. A real gent.
I emerged from the loo some 10 minutes later, totally dishevelled, hair
all over the place, and a wet shirt!
(as we had cleaned-up some of my own muck away).
(as we had cleaned-up some of my own muck away).
Walked up to our tour manager, ignored everyone else on the table, and
just said:
'I wanna go to hotel now, please".
The record label people and their biz-mates must have been quite
impressed:
"Ach du lieber Gott! , singer of this band is eine craze
rock'n'roll frau...'
Next morning the Universe was born, with a massive big-bang mother of
all headaches and to an assault of cruel
jokes by the Drugstore posse.
jokes by the Drugstore posse.
And no matter how much I tried to explain that nothing had actually happened,
that the Berlin missile had failed
to reach its target, and that we didn't do it, they just simply did not believe me, and for years to come, every time
they lay their eyes on a new European tour-schedule, they'll go crazy with laughter and deliver a barrage of
cheesy punchlines: 'Yep, Isabel's gonna be fine, we're playingBerlin Berlin
make sure you get some extras for miss monteiro... wink-wink.'
to reach its target, and that we didn't do it, they just simply did not believe me, and for years to come, every time
they lay their eyes on a new European tour-schedule, they'll go crazy with laughter and deliver a barrage of
cheesy punchlines: 'Yep, Isabel's gonna be fine, we're playing
make sure you get some extras for miss monteiro... wink-wink.'
Arg - how annoying was that? To have the reputation of a
grand rock'n'roll traveller,
without having actually clocked-up the air-miles? *sighs*
without having actually clocked-up the air-miles? *sighs*
-
A few years later, as Drugstore's rank rose, we returned to Berlin
venue. Backstage, getting ready for the gig, an usher walks into my dressing room holding a most beautiful
bunch of flowers, the little card read: 'From your past tequila lover, now a faithful admirer.'
venue. Backstage, getting ready for the gig, an usher walks into my dressing room holding a most beautiful
bunch of flowers, the little card read: 'From your past tequila lover, now a faithful admirer.'
I asked the usher to send the secret fan in.
It was awkward and sweet, him standing there, a living
reminder of one of my many drunken follies.
We shook hands, talked briefly, I signed an autograph but was so busy
thinking about the show,
I somehow forgot to offer him a drink.
I somehow forgot to offer him a drink.
x
ps: probably not as shameful as Miki, from 90's shoegazing band Lush, at
Benicassim Festival backstage bar
area, where everyone is hanging-out, daytime, full-view, full-on sex, crouching-tiger-style, she: chick on top.
Now, that's not rock'n'roll - that's something else... :O
area, where everyone is hanging-out, daytime, full-view, full-on sex, crouching-tiger-style, she: chick on top.
Now, that's not rock'n'roll - that's something else... :O
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