August 29th, 2006.

Birds at the beach. Yup. This implies rob on a beach. Craziness. Watching them whirl around, I need to wake up early enough to drive Sara to work to have the car for a day and wander around and take pictures of beasts and sunshineyness and Volkswagons so I can finally win at the punchbuggy game. (I know, I know, punch buggies, like nuclear warheads – no-one really wins – but I can be the lesserly bruised!)

Me on the seawall, thinking about band photographs. There is SUCH beauty to these old, worn places. It’s interesting how different it is from Mexico – because on the surface there are a lot of similarities: beaten, ocean-worn, sun-bleached… ha (this isn’t PC)… and a lot of Mexicans… but there’s less trash here, less use, somehow. There would’ve been lots of men clustered around me in Mexico, sleeping on the stairs, or just hanging out. We’re simply not as social.

Watching the waves come in in Galveston, Texas. I wish I could’ve really gotten the colour here. Sigh.

I miss Heather. I’ve been out in Galveston for a week and a day and played out three times and I miss playing with Heather. Playing solo is… interesting. And I feel I’ve done alright, but where’s the other half of my voice?!!? Oh yeah. Left it in Maryland.

I went to pick up Sara and used the UTMB bathrooms… and lo and behold.. grafitti. However, I was expecting some sort of exciting and sciency grafitti in the bathrooms of a biology lab. I was not disappointed in that there was math, but disappointed that, by rights, this should’ve been something done in the artist’s head, NOT on the bathroom wall.. Come ON!!!

Growlf. We’ll have to figure out a way to tour back out here. We’ve been invited for South by Southwest in March, which is right on the heels of an invitation to Colorado in May… well… not THAT close, I suppose. It’d be great if we could make vast trips pay for themselves next year. We’ll certainly have no trouble getting as far as Illinois, and wouldn’t have any trouble actually IN Texas… but there’s a lot of miles out past and out to.

The Old Quarter Acoustic Cafe in Galveston, TX.To the right, there’s me playing the open mic at the Acoustic Cafe. I was plenty confused by the set up, as… there… wasn’t… there… there was no list!! Oh God! Chaos! What’s more, the bartender seemed confused by the question! The owner, Wrecks, just calls people up, and it was a loose, relaxed night… it worked. I liked the feeling of this being sort of a Cheers of open mics. The audience is made of regulars that are there most every Wednesday and Thursday night. People play along from the audience, people sing along. Very nice.

Hrm.

This past weekend Sara and I drove up to Houston to play the JP Hops open mic. Little did we know what we were destined to encounter…

Spudstock. I don’t remember what number they’re on, but apparently it’s Mr. Potato Head’s 54th birthday and the 37th anniversary of Woodstock. Logically, the two events must be combined and they’ve been having a three day festival celebrating starchiness and acoustic music, and I’m not sure if we’d gotten there earlier or not.

With such band names as “Half-Baked Shake Russell & the Tater Tots” and “Beat Me, Whip Me, Call Me Edna”,

I figure it could’ve been really good, but it could’ve been truly frightening. I’m just imagining what kind of punny name ilyAIMY would’ve had to go under to participate. We’d also have had to follow suit with some exciting cover such as “All You Need Is Sputs” or “30,000 Pounds of Potatos”. Many an interesting tune was heard at Sunday night’s open mic – including one of the only Live renditions I’ve ever encountered of the non-potato-inclusive tune “Poisoning Pigeons in the Park”. I think Sara was somewhat horrified that I recognized it from the first bar of this a capella delight.

Wrecks keeps all the old set lists from bands that have played there and a complete wall of his office is wallpapered with them. I stood there and stared. Till someone came through the door behind where I was standing and hit me.

“Spuds on a Plane” narrowly beat out “Snakes on a Spud”. Oh my how our minds really aren’t all THAT different. This was the first entry on the table at the Dress Your Spud contest at Spudstock at JP Hops in Houston, Texas.

Sigh. Truth be told, I recognized it from the spoken-word intro, and it was awesome to see the host of the open mic light up and decide that she too HAD to be singing this song, and leap up onto the stage with a huge grin and a Lovely harmony.

Spud Henge. It all doesn’t really need my words involved at all.

Spudstock. Nuff said. Potatos everywhere, hanging from the ceiling, a Mr. Potato Head hanging from the mic stand. I’ve never experienced anything like it. Awesome. Simply awesome.

I swear, between Kerrville’s gnome-burgling antics last year, the watermelon sacrifices, mooing, and this years potato obsession, I must admit I’m getting a somewhat skewed vision of Texas.

Oh, and my brother’s been having trouble with cows. But that’s neither here nor there.

The last couple of open mics I’ve gone to where all at the Old Quarter Acoustic Cafe in Galveston. This was such a laid-back, calm and traditional room, that landing in the bizarre and beautiful JP Hops was something of a culture shock. Once I got past the Dress Up Your Spud contest (“I’m tired of all these mother*%*! spuds on my mother*%*! plane”, Spudhenge… it was GOOD stuff) and had admired the Potato Baking contest, I was prepared to deal with what was on stage – and oh my GOD I’m glad we got there early.

Even if there hadn’t been a chance to play, even if there hadn’t been that amazing sweet potato bread pudding with rum sauce… this woman’s voice was amazing. A tall blonde who reminded me strongly of Tracy (Deep in the AM, you know, the wolf-girl!) with a weathered country voice and clean guitar chops… I was very, very entranced with the first act. Susan Gibson was apparently something of a celebrity as well, a lot of people had come out just to see her – she wrote a song called “Wide Open Spaces” that the Dixie Chicks play. I can’t imagine wanting to hear it performed by anyone else.

Susan Gibson and the host of the JP Hops open mic in Houston, Texas. I was almost embarassed at people’s reactions when I didn’t know her hit song “Wide Open Spaces”. Sigh. When Metallica covers it, I’ll know, okay?

Pete Simple performing with quite some understated panache at Spudstock 2006 at JP Hops. I have to bring my flaming boots and a biker shirt to pull off my rockstardom. I have to slouch a bit and strut. I admire anyone who can pull off our profession in sandals.

In any case, I wasn’t sure that my brother was going to come out, but was really glad to see him walk in (though both he AND Del have some sort of leg injuries – I guess they really DO do everything together… sigh). Pete Simple, who I’d met last year in Houston, also showed up, out of the blue. It was really wonderful to watch him perform again. Last year I remember being distracted by his bass player (oh, another beat-boxer, I think was my main impression), but this year I was able to listen to his truly serene voice and admirable jazz guitar sound unmolested by ear candy. Driving home from Houston, back to Galveston, watching the lights go by, thinking of food. I could never Live out here, but I’m happy enough visiting. It’s interesting being out on my own, but I miss Heather intensely, and there’s a strange sort of feeling being separated from everything that I feel makes me… me. A strange sense of lack of identity or something. It’s interesting that that’s so wrapped up in her. She’s very much the other half of me and it’s frustrating not to have her voice and her sound laid down next to me. I’ve been silencing rooms effectively, generating interest, but I want to say “psh, this ain’t nothin'” (hear my Texas?).