August 4th, 2004.

Yesterday, Deanne took us out on her boat. I must admit, I’ve been horribly jealous of all of our out-of-state singer/songwriter friends – they come to Maryland and someone takes them out on a boat. We have had to travel 400 miles from home to get out on the water, but it’s well worth it.

People waving at us from the interior of Flaming Amy's Burrito Barn. — People waving at us from the interior of Flaming Amy’s Burrito Barn.

Deanne is beautifully insane – she has a grin like a manic death’s head and a crazy laugh that echoes through the house, driving the dogs into a frenzy.

Yesterday morning, she gathered us up, put us in the back of her car, stopped for gas (North Carolina is VERY different – there was a sign on the pump “If we don’t know you pay first”) and launched us out in her little power boat. She took us on a proper tour of Cape Fear, up and down the rivers and out to the edge of the ocean.

Deanne drives her boat crouched low over the windshield with her teeth bared and an all too-eager hand on the throttle. She aims us into troughs and water valleys and I spent most of the time squatting in the front of the boat, balancing precariously and holding on for dear Life. Deanne looks like a dark-haired Cruella DeVille hunting for dalmations with a harpoon gun.

This doesn't capture the spirit of the ride at all. We rounded the harbour and up near Front Street (sort of historic downtown Wilmington area) to get a better look at the Battleship North Carolina. It was around here that Deanne started talking about the two alligators (read my lips - alleeegaytors), Charlie and Charlene. Like dogs, they come when called. We didn't call them. Later she talked about sharks. "This is where we saw that bull shark playing with that kid. That shark was just havin a good ole time!" — This doesn’t capture the spirit of the ride at all. We rounded the harbour and up near Front Street (sort of historic downtown Wilmington area) to get a better look at the Battleship North Carolina. It was around here that Deanne started talking about the two alligators (read my lips – alleeegaytors), Charlie and Charlene. Like dogs, they come when called. We didn’t call them. Later she talked about sharks. “This is where we saw that bull shark playing with that kid. That shark was just havin a good ole time!”

As much as I hate to admit it, I’m scared to death of most water – especially if I can’t see through it. My extremely visual imagination is all too good at people-ing it with toothy denizens and serpentine curls.

ALL too visual – I’m watching Heather cross the street, and it’s all too easy to imagine her getting hit by a car, the lurch and thud – God – horror. All too easy to imagine all too many things.

We saw pelicans by the dozen, diving suddenly for fish, divebombing the water, skimming low over the waves. I've maybe seen one or two before, but never anything like this. Also, an egret for my Dad. — We saw pelicans by the dozen, diving suddenly for fish, divebombing the water, skimming low over the waves. I’ve maybe seen one or two before, but never anything like this. Also, an egret for my Dad.

So, over the course of the day, I ended up having to face my fear. I have my suspicions as to how we ended up on a sandbar, but I’ll take Deanne’s word for it that she didn’t do it on purpose. I ended up only knee-deep in apparently bottomless water, helping to push the boat (Deanne pointing and yelling “I think it’s deeper that way!!!”). Trudging and sandy and wet and fighting off watery panic attacks, we eventually got the boat moving again. I felt all pansy-esque being all freaked out by the water, but I could feel the shivers clutching at my back – I kept thinking about alligators, sharks, fish, eels – and less corporeal creatures… I grew up believing in the Loch Ness Monster and sea serpents, and incidentally, that dragon flies could sew my lips shut. The trick is to keep my head from focusing on where I am and what I’m doing.

My lonesome shows on the beach. Boots and black shirts, desperately inappropriate.

Scared the shit out of me.

But we were soon on our way again. She took us to an otherwise inaccessible beach filled with hermit crabs and these weird little molluscy things that just covered the sand. I sort of wish they were edible, though I might’ve felt bad, it would’ve been cool to sit on the beach on Cape Fear slorping the little guys out of their shells.

At first we thought those black specks were pebbles, or droppings - but they were each little moving mollusc thingies. We'd pick them up and let them squirm around in our hands. — At first we thought those black specks were pebbles, or droppings – but they were each little moving mollusc thingies. We’d pick them up and let them squirm around in our hands.

And there were packs of fiddler crabs! Heather saw the beach MOVING as we approached the shore - running this way and that. It's awesome chasing fiddler crabs because they run back and forth from side to side, dodging you. They run for the grass in a very PIXAR movie fashion. — And there were packs of fiddler crabs! Heather saw the beach MOVING as we approached the shore – running this way and that. It’s awesome chasing fiddler crabs because they run back and forth from side to side, dodging you. They run for the grass in a very PIXAR movie fashion.

Later that night we headed out to Annette’s open mic at Costello’s. Deanne had declared that Costello’s was her favourite little gay bar – dim light and lots of monkeys. It didn’t turn out to be much of an open mic, but the owner, George, enjoyed us, and booked us for Saturday night. Originally we aimed for a pretty low fee, but Annette scoffed at our price, and Deanne went back to the bar and explained to George calmly that we were worth about twice what we’d asked for.

So, we’ll be playing on Saturday at Costello’s and we’ll LIKE it. (Though George would like us to tone down our set a bit, and play some more covers, if we could, and perhaps dress a little nicer…)

August 4th, 2004.

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