July 27th, 2006.

I’m staying inside the house. I’d Love to say that that’s because it’s summer and it’s hot outside and we’re in Charlotte, NC. I’d Love to say it’s because we’ve got Legend on DVD and I’d rather sit and watch Tom Cruise get covered in glitter. Hell… I’d rather say I got in trouble with the police last night for touching a dog inappropriately and am under house arrest… but the truth is… I’m afraid of the house alarm.

The drive down yesterday was lengthy but not exhausting. It was solid and uneventful. We actually navigated Washington DC rather than circumventing it with its own Beltway. and though that was causse for minor celebration, slowly the exitement died down under the enforced monotony that is I-95. I think I’ve expressed before that there are beautiful roads and exciting roads and windy roads and dangerous roads. I-95 is not one of these. I-95 is a utilitarian snake of asphalt laid out flat in the sun, disinterested in making turns around hills or diving under mountains. It’s a lazy ribbon of a road on the East Coast that simply… runs. It’s boring as Hell.

Greg and Derrick playing “Red House” at the College Perk in College Park, MD. They screwed up and decided that if this woman didn’t want him, his sister would. I pointed out that that was the wrong sister to pursue, but frankly, it was said PASSIONATELY enough that the audience didn’t really mind the incest.

Which is fine, because the only kind of excitement you get on an interstate is a multi-car accident or a State Trooper. I’d rather the boredom.

Gah! Heather says “That’s weird” and I look up and start pretty heavily, seeing an 18-wheeler headed right at us. Heather just laughed at my discomfiture. Growl. Later I flicked cilantro at her. Though totally disconnected, it was a form of vengeance.

We pulled into Charlotte, NC at around 6.30 in the afternoon. Far too late for lunch, far too early for the open mic at Ri Ra. We decide to wander around a little bit and do some sight-seeing before retiring to my friend Katie’s house. When we get there, she shows me the ropes on the new security system they’ve had installed (I don’t feel weird abu putting this in the Journal – there’s signs in the front yard after all) and I just KNOW i’m going to forget something.

And I did.

Ri Ra was uneventful. They had a cool stage and actually we had the audience packed in our favour with our friend Ben and his posse (one of which was from Carrol County – MARYLAND REPRESENT!!!). The stage is faux rock rearing out of the floor and youare surrounded by pseudo-Celticness to the point that you want to swing a sickle and sacrifice the front row to the moon, but we had sort of a mediocre response and we didn’t stick around any longer than we had to. That may have been fatigue talking, but I was far more interested in going back to the house, petting dogs, talking on the phone… just about anything over the mechanics of working an audience (bad rob!).

We ran across this creature in a rest stop somewhere in North Carolina. he was quite complacent and let me pick him up and poke him a bit. Very, very soft. He would be a suitable but dissatisfying road pet.

A quick picture of an old MG for my Dad. Not that he liked them, because people always mistook his Austin Healey for an MG, but it made me think of him anywho.

And so housebound we go. I fight with the door for a little while, and then THINK I’ve got it… I THINK I’ve got it… and then an ear-splitting alarm goes off and the cops are calling and Katie’s stumbling downstairs in her pajamas and… and… yup… I’m a bad rob.

And so today I sit upstairs struggling with an intermittant internet connection because

it is my only connection with the outside world. Katie should be home soon, and she will let me out. I have faith in this.

And if she doesn’t… well… I’ve looked around… and the cat dish is full. And failing that, I can always eat Heather.