When we left the hotel we stopped at a music store. we borrowed (rented) a bass guitar from them in september (i think) of last year. we were short a bass guitar and needed something for a show. we were supposed to bring it back much sooner but we forgot the last time we were in town. they weren’t very pleased when we walked in with it today. here’s dan (who usually plays drums, but can also play guitar and bass and keys) rocking out with it one more time, just outside the store.
having our name on the marquee is so cool. it makes arriving at 2:00pm and sitting on my butt all day a little more bearable. “hey, at least people may be reading our name as they drive to and fro” fro. do i really think things like fro? maybe i do. i think tarnation. “where in tarnation is my phone? where in tarnation did i leave my orange juice?” drew will testify. i am always turning to him to ask where i’ve placed something. generally he knows.
across the street from the club are some cool old buildings. here is trav in front of one of them. those are doric columns, as opposed to corinthian or ionic, if i remember anything from latin class.
t’s hair has really come a long way in recent months. are those curls natural?
t working on a bass guitar.
a strobotuner, a vital part of any guitar tech’s arsenal. if only because they look official and complicated.
the late cesar diaz, a legendary guitar tech who worked with us on Swim, used to tell us that there was something to coil cords. he swore that hendrix only used coil cords because it gave him a special sound. “straight cords were being made at the time, but every photo you see of him is with a coil cord”. cesar was puerto rican and came to america with dreams of playing guitar with hendrix. he ended up playing with bob dylan instead. we miss him greatly. the last time we played crocodile rock was a couple years ago. he tech’ed for us that night.
i love this photo. even though it’s blurry. she is mopping the floor. the floor is so lonely all day.
at 8 or so people showed up. i thought we played a good show. debuted a new song we don’t have a name for. something about eyes that are blue, but all the good blue eyes titles are taken.
your color is purple your food is chinese
you’re a sucker for buying one and getting one free
thursdays at 8:00 you watch your TV shows
CSI and friends. these things i know
but what makes your eyes so blue?
is it something inside of you?
what makes you beautiful?
i wish i knew
tonight i talked at length with a biologist about the wetlands in northeast america. and with a nurse about living and dying in bethlehem, pennsylvania. t calls natalie susan and megan and all sorts of things but her name is natalie. spoke briefly with jimmy from jimmy’s chicken shack about the injustices of the music industry. brandon and friends say bye and drive back to pittsburgh. school tomorrow. layla is named layla and goes to school with sarah. they want to hang out but their friend is sick in the bathroom (and hasn’t had a drop to drink). guy with mohawk asks me to say hi to a girlfriend of his but she leaves before i get to it. i think of mohawks for a while. someone with a “to thine own self tattoo” says our show was “beautiful” and i don’t know if she was on drugs or really moved or both. but it makes me smile.
i like talking with different people. it’s relatively easy for me to talk to someone at a show, maybe because i assume that they liked the music at least a little. i am really shy in the real world. i can’t talk to someone at a gas station. i mumble and hold up the line. i mumble at restaurants and i’m embarassed to ask for what i want or make corrections. sometimes i think that’s why i am in a band–i cannot function in the world. i really don’t even like the world that much. especially when i feel inadequate and cannot find things. being in a band is like having your own little world. it’s automatically psychotic and somewhat narcissistic to want to front a band. but it is where i belong i think. it suits me and it makes me happy and someone probably knows where i last set down my phone or my bottle of orange juice.
sorry this journal was not really that funny. tomorrow i hope to be back with some good (submitted) photos from the show.