“…you honestly brought tears to my eyes tonight listening to you play. You made me think about my life, and my choices, and my goals and aspirations (believe it or not)… Your bandmates are just amazing. You surround yourself with good people, talented people, and i admire that…”
I must admit, I haven’t really been in the mood to write in the Journal recently. Despite a truly spectacular show at College Perk (which resulted in the above flattering letter), I’m still feeling a bit burnt out. The “break” wasn’t very breakish.
But what to do about that? Well, we’re already back on the road again, and even though this last stint of “being home” was the longest since we left on September 2nd, 2003 – it still seemed all too short. Just long enough to get me used to the idea of not worrying about where whether or not I was eating that night, or whether or not I was going to see a familiar face any given evening.
I’m typing from a beautiful wood and brick and iron apartment from Providence, Rhode Island. I wish the whole day had been this nice. I’d forgotten what it was like to have a rough day and then just… relax on a couch with a glass of water… and for it to be silent. There is nowhere else as quiet as Providence at midnight.
It was a rough drive up.
Technically, we DO have a rule in place about not driving more than four hours at a time if we’re playing that night. That lets us have lots of leisure time that can be spent stopping for flowers and photographs and cider and exciting puppies.
From Baltimore to Providence… not four hours. Especially on a rainy, dreary Monday. Especially when you time it wrong and hit New York City at rush hourish hours, and then Stamford, CT at actual rush hour. It was a rough drive.
We left at 11.30am and finally arrived at our destination (the Custom House) at a little after 9pm. And the Custom House was closed. From there we meandered over to the Call, but much of our enthusiasm had been drained. It was a rough day.
Played, passed out post cards, all in all – not an auspicious beginning to this run.
And then we made our way home to Rob Spectre.
We met Rob on our last trip to Providence. An awesome percussionist, an awesome punk musician, a great lyricist hidden in a genre that generally doesn’t bother. I’ve been really eager to see him again, and it’s pained me that it’s taken over a YEAR to return here.
Rob met us tonight after getting back from a show of his own (with his band Artoro Got the Shaft – a joke for kids who took Spanish in school, apparently) and attacked us with fierce hugs and infectious good nature. He made me feel like we were kind of coming home.
A great end to a rough day.
Oh – random HUGE relief? SOMEONE else has bought this same model of Alienware laptop. Rob hasn’t had his for quite as long, nor has he used it nearly as hard – but we shall lament together on the pains of overheating and limited battery Life. Stupid Alienware.
