Cigarette smoke, bong hit leftovers and voices surround the stage. Jimmy peers from behind the curtain, and turns to us smirking. “Real fucking wild bunch out there tonight” he says. He goes back and peers through the curtain, a single eye gazing into the abyss. And the abyss is too busy cursing, stomping and getting high to stare back. Stitch and Twig are running around, getting equipment ready. Talking with roadies. Making sure the stage is set before we perform. Twig makes sure everything is in place. Stitch just points and yells. "Everything ready?" he asked. We all nodded. Poor Twig.