Writing from I-70 somewhere in Illinois:
Friday the 13th came and went without calamity. Again. Usually I actually feel I receive some special surplus of luck on Friday the 13th gigs, but at the moment, the only thing I’ve got a real surplus of is back pain and consciousness. Somewhere along the line, I hit my second wind with the road, and ever since returning from our little summer vacation, I’ve had a renewed vigour for our travel and performances.
Unfortunately, I DO still need to sleep, and that’s been in short supply for the past week. Tonight we’re playing the Stagger Inn and that’s always a long show and a late night… but we don’t have ANYTHING to do tomorrow – no travels, no travailles. I’m planning to sleep the FUCK out of Sunday morning, and perhaps even smear my affectionate unconsciousness on into the afternoon hours. God HELP those parrots if they wake me up! Karma, you hear me?!!? THERE WILL BE STEW!!!!
Wisely, I invested in GOOD earplugs before this trip, and I highly recommend “Hearos” to any other road warriors reading these words.
Morale is kept high by the temperature, the company, the sunshine, and the aesthetic qualities of Heather’s profile. She’s having an exceptionally pretty day.
– Road Warrior page – advice, equipment and thoughts.
At the moment I’m filthy and tired – napping in the car only restores so much energy – and I’m looking forward to catching a shower at Susan’s within minutes of rolling in.
Being dirty always makes me think about cutting my hair. I always wonder if I could get away with a bit more filth if my hair was shorter, and how it would look. I had a dream about getting my hair cut a little while ago, but the dream was a little more about the fact that it was being done against my will and by rusty garden sheers than it was about my rockstar look, hygeine, or personal fashion.
It’s funny, being a guy – we have to worry about our hair on our head AND on our face. We have conversations with other guys about where r hair will and will NOT grow. Back in California, I had a quick conversation with Baeckle, admiring his fresh, luxuriant face-growth, and he lamented the patches that he couldn’t get to fill in, and I sympathized, secretly jealous that he just had the patches!
I imagine men are about facial hair the way women are about their bodies. No matter how much our scruffy / non-scruffy / finely trimmed / eratically growing / soft / coarse / shaved to baby-pink skin faces are admired by anyone else and no matter how much or little time we spend on it, we covertly (and sometimes overtly) covet others’ looks.
