| the Journal | the Cult of Saint Cecilia

September 15th, 2003.
Sigh, potential panic. Pulled in at the Gryphon Cafe in Wayne, PA. It's our last stop before heading home, and it looks like there's the potential of us having ANOTHER flat tire. It looks similar to the first one - (which was totally, and inequivocably my fault - puddle racing in the Saturn - bad call) - and the rim looks bent away from the seal.

However, Heather's been driving!!!

But, we'll go check on it in a little bit, see what needs to be done. I really hope we'll be ok, but... well, we'll see.

When it comes down to it, I'm relatively superstitious. I think it's my answer to religion. A sort of edge of spirituality, with random odd beliefs scattered in. You know, not that I'll freak out about the thirteenth floor, or crossing paths with a black cat, but I am perhaps more cautious about my language around churches, and though I don't go out of my WAY to avoid passing under a ladder, I sort of think about it for a moment.

It gives me pause.

So, the Trip has gone well so far. We've landed shows right out of the gate, we've got several that sound very promising - we're selling CDs, made a lot of friends, gleaned contacts. The Portrait Project hasn't gotten off the ground yet, but.... I sort of figured it might take it's time.

But, the superstitious part of me asks if we pay for the good luck with bad events. Sprinkled - gentle-like. Today is all rain and storm and wind and high-speed cars. It's been a rougher driving day with stop-and-go traffic interspersed with impatient drivers.

I mean, probably it's just Monday, right? But do we pay for our acceptance by venues in New York City with a flat in Wayne, PA? Who knows. Sigh twice.


I'm eager to be home, I miss a couple of people pretty fiercely, moreso than I thought I would. Weirdly enough, on the top of my Stuff That Makes Me Happy list is the fact that Shane (from Philly) will be coming down for the CD Release on Friday.

Really looking forward to all SORTS of stuff like that. (whee!)

September 18, 2003.
5.30 am at a Kinkos. It reminds me of college. Getting sleepy and slowly beginning to make errors that daylight will catch instantly. Heather turned in hours ago. Banners and posters and signs, oh my.

September 23, 2003.
The CD release was amazing.
Isabelle (hurricane) left us standing amidst chaos and broken limbs. Houses reduced to twisted lumber, and neighbourhoods left in the dark for days. Nothing new for this summer. I'm sure if you added it up, we've had our 40 days and 40 nights of rain and dark and winds and lightning. We're close enough to bringing on Armageddon, I suppose. Bush is certainly doing his best to reawaken the 80sesque fear of nuclear annihilation. Megadeth can have a new generation of fans.

I'm writing from the road. 67 miles per hour is set in the cruise control, and we are narrowly avoiding caffeine crazed truckers, verging on sleep, it seems, as they swerve between lanes, unconcerned about us lesser beings. "No trucks or busses in the right lane" on the New Jersey Turnpike. Seems a good reason to stay here, but of course 67 in a 65 is far too slow for the majority populace, and we're constantly switching lanes to avoid the onslaught of midnight ratrace.

The CD release party was amazing. We weren't sure what to expect. The Harbour was flooded, the roads were closed, even the basement of the Vault was closed. We still had 75 people there just to see us, and we made enough money to keep our exploits on the road for a little longer.

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