July 2004
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July 31st, 2004.
Some quick notes before bed… Heather’s reading the paper, cats are investigating our feet. They’re wandering how we came to land on them so delightfully. Yes, after the chaos of the day, Tom and Dianne of Durham (we met them as a friend of a friend – through Rabbit regular singer/songwriter Ace Colvin) are Lovely…
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July 30th, 2004.
My head being eaten by Mariposa as I’m hung like meat within the Chelsea and Beau home. Yeah, spent some time hanging upside down for spinal purposes… I think it may have even done me some good – my lower back has been hurting a lot, especially after even moderately long drives. It hurt alot…
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July 29th, 2004.
I hate my ass. I like my butt. But I hate my ass. Yes, there is a HUGE difference. My butt is a finely muscled mound of two clusters of flesh constructed solely to let me look good in my tight black jeans. My ass, on the other hand, is an insidious master of noxious chemical…
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July 27th, 2004.
It’s 3am and the scent of Heather’s hair still lingers on my fingers, et cetera, et cetera. I stroked her hair for a bit before retreating to the Living room and Star Trek. Not sleeping every night has gotten extremely absurd – so, it’s time to reset the clock. I haven’t pulled an all-nighter on…
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July 27th, 2004.
The first thing people say to you when they hear you are a touring musician is almost always this wistful, smiling, admiration-intoned cliche: “You’re living the dream.” I’ve commented on this before. At a poetry open mic last night, one of my brother’s friends recognized me and asked me about my travels. Though she did…
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July 26th, 2004.
I’ve got to admit, I don’t even feel tired. At the moment. It’s closing in on 4am, and my mind is whirling. I was exhausted moments ago, but the computer screen perks me up a bit. I AM tired of being up all night (and there’s the balance – I can feel the fatigue creeping…
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July 21st, 2004.
What an amazing night. The Funk Box was worth every moment of angst. What an amazing night. Best gig we’ve ever played, perhaps. Two djembes beat out drum kit any night. And well air-conditioned. Score. I want to play THERE forEVER. Sitting later that morning, listening to Underfoot with Daniel, we Love to be able…
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July 20th, 2004.
Tonight we brought home a stray. Not a kitten bent on flight and skies, but a fellow rockstar. Daniel Lee has been on the road for four years – and for the past several months I’ve been hearing about him from Brennan, from Mitzi, from Amy. He’s spectacular, and deserving of a better following than he’s got.…
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July 19th, 2004.
Oh my dear lord. Why can’t the Funk Box get the right time on their website? HATE!!! Yeah, the owner apologizes profusely, but there’s no way to ever find out how much damage something like that does. Web sites. Pish.
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July 18th, 2004.
with the pot” – I returned to the Lloydholme exhausted, elated, and relieved. It doesn’t FEEL like July. It’s grey and the air conditioning lets us forget what kind of temperature might be lurking outdoors. Chelsea’s dad doesn’t sleep. I’m seeing morning for what feels like the first time in weeks. Months. And the grey…