April 25, 2004
Well, the U.S. and Asian tours are now complete, and Australia's is soon to join them. I managed to
avoid "the Donald" during almost the entire affair. In Albuquerque, I met a dashing Russian
immigrant, who shall remain nameless. The show was flawless as usual (no keyboard mistakes get by
me), and the Russian and I had a lovely après-show in my suite. Never challenge a Russian to
a vodka-drinking contest!
The next day, we drove round and round looking for the Oklahoma City show. We never found it, but did
stumble over the most charming B&B. It's just as well we missed it, as the local paper gave the show
a bad review.
There's just one more U.S. tour highlight to report. In Galveston, I had some unexpected bad
memories emerge around the Wurlitzer player, and in a hissy fit I tossed my best string of natural
pearls at him. Well, before I knew it, all of these cowboys and metal heads were throwing their own
beads at the band! I was torn: I hated seeing the guys getting pelted, except, of course, Mr. "I
just want to be friends" Airey. *Plonk* Nice shot, JR!
Then it was off to Asia. I don't speak any Asian languages, and tend to stick close to my hotels in
countries like Japan. Of course, I couldn't attend the shows in China, my overpaid and underworked
assistant having forgotten to get the paperwork in order in time. I'm also no longer permitted to
visit Indonesia -- they apparently take a very dim view of swimming in fountains and singing Wasted
Sunsets at the top of one's voice. I also had no way of knowing my, uh, singing companion was an
underage student from a local religious school. They don't carry ID cards, you know! Well, I mean,
strictly speaking, they do, but they're written in *Indonesian* or something. What is a girl to
Anyway, I caught up with the boys in Australia. Ah, Oz. Land of AC/DC, Vegemite, and --
Living Loud?? Now I can't go to the après show! :-( I swear that Don makes every decision
possible to ruin my evenings! So no Living Loud shows for little Joanna. But I *can* go to New
Zealand! Never having been there I am *so* looking forward to it! Lars, my Australian, er, guide,
is insisting on joining me, so I might need to make a hasty exit with the band. I want to eat kiwi
fruit and see the sights (not to mention concerts) with a real local. Vegemite with Lars -- kiwi
fruit with ...?
So, again, ta! I will of course be doing summer festivals in Europe, where I *do* speak all the
languages), and where I can disappear into the crowd when certain ARP synthesizer players walk into
the bar. See you all soon!
February 21, 2004
Hello again! Well, in my career in gossip, I've often needed to appear places incognito, and I've
"crawled back into costume." No one should recognize me at the shows (not the least of which, the
Harpsichord Player, who spurned me).
The shows have been fabulous, I cannot tell a lie. I've sneaked backstage but once, and got close
enough to the Clavicord Player to smell the deceit on him. My companion insisted it was patchouli,
but I know betrayal when I smell it.
Whilst I was olfactorily distracted, someone from the Purple organization handed me a gift bag, and,
putting his lips close to my ear, said, "compliments of the organization." Had I been spotted?? I
ducked into the loo and secured a stall. Opening the bag, I discovered an electric banana. That
is, it is an banana made of plastic with a battery terminal -- it must light up or something. The
package says, "personal massage device." Okay, then.
So get to the concerts, and buy one of these banana flashlights...what a buzz!
February 2, 2004
Oh, dear me... where to start? Well, when I last shared my whereabouts with you, my faithful
readers, the Lord of the Hammond was finalizing plans to move on. I was inconsolate. Add to this
the fact that his replacement and I had -- oh, this is so indelicate... a *past* -- and my
devastation was complete.
Thanks to the benevolence of an older gentleman friend, I was able to travel to the South Seas to
pursue my dream to bring Aboriginal objéts d'art to collectors on the U.S. west coast. I was
disappointed to find that there were no aborigines in the South Seas, but there were young men and
cocktail lounges, so I managed to cope.
After a time, I had amassed a reasonable collection of wood and bone carvings of the indigenous
peoples of the island of Belly Belly, and decided to make my way to the west coast. The only loose
end was the lovely Swedish lad who had been sharing the villa with me. He was a delightful toy, but
not for long-term consumption. I vowed to return, but the lad was having none of it, returning to
Sweden "where the lutefisk is always baking," as he would wistfully tell me. My rock and roll Midas
touch is apparently intact, though, because he's wandered back to Sweden and had a major hit with
"It's Been Hurting All The Way With You Joanna". Lovely.
I wired ahead and secured a cozy bungalow in Malibu, near a gallery where I could display the
deliciously primitive and erotic pieces I had gathered, intending to call the show "Objéts
Inspired by Living Conditions not unlike Aboriginals." Preorders mounted.
Meanwhile, at a favorite bistro, who should walk in but my old paramour. Generously mustachioed, my
mind instantly flashed back to the glory days of Rainbow, my special ivory tinkler and I laughing at
a certain Man In Black's attempts to assault him with pasta and sauce -- my man was too quick; fast
reflexes and the singer gets it again! Ah, but things didn't work out for us back then, and I
didn't have the loved-and-lost hardened husk to my heart yet -- I'd wept for days afterwards. Years
of healing and a Deep Purple reunion finally mended my heart, but the scar was there. And now, here
he was! I put on my sunglasses and hid behind my Jackie Collins.
I discovered they were recording, and even sneaked by the studio a time or two. However, I hadn't the
courage to go in. Now there is a tour, and my All-but-Aboriginal art has been very good to me. Of
course I have tickets, of course I have good seats, for most every show. The question is -- do I
have the courage to see the man who broke my heart performing with the band that owns it? And can I
possibly make contact with the other band members, risking the possibility of encountering... *HIM*??
Stand by for updates, dear readers...