Heather and Rowan and I are hitting the road again today, I-70 is flashing past and grey skies are glowering down, Rowan’s in the backseat putting on his distinctive orange-smelling hand lotion. We’re listening to pop songs and Heather’s pleased with lyrics and I’m a little bit grumpy, but if the new Metallica tune flashes on the radio it’ll make up for anything God has to throw at us today.
We don’t have to discuss the photograph. I was bored and decided to make with the being stylish
A beautiful watercolour day in Pennsylvania as we wend our way towards California.
Well, actually the traffic has been kind of brutal. We’re three hours into the drive and we’re two hours behind schedule. Fortunately, California, PA should be relatively laid back and stress-free. My fingers are crossed that what has been true in the past shall remain true in the future.
Last night we played Dave Eisner’s “Coffeehouse” cable show. Affectionately referred to as “Dave’s World”, I was expecting to see beaten basement couches and get some cheesy special effects, but really we were treated to a very nice, professional set up with an in the round stage that we probably should’ve taken better advantage of – it would’ve been cool if we’d all been facing out and they’d surrounded us with cameras – however by the time they were ready for us they were already running really, really late and I didn’t want to stress them out by doing anything more unorthodox than playing really thumpy guitar, having two djembes on stage – and whipping out ones in the middle of a song.
We had a really good time and I was really flattered by Dave’s response to our performance. He owns the House of Musical Traditions and is my boss there and though we’ve known one another for years (sheesh, like maybe around 10 years now?) he’s never been terribly into ilyAIMY. This, of course is fine – if we had to Love everything all of our friends did artistically there’d be no room left in our hearts for pets. He’s always seemed to appreciate what we did, be impressed with the amount of work we put into it – and acknowledging that there was talent there he booked us for things here and there, but he was never a huge fan. Last night though, I think we blew his mind a little bit.
We played the first set, “Hands” and “Matador” and did a short interview, but then the second set went by in such a way that he had to interview us after we played “Trouble” and he was totally twitterpated by the song to the point that he’d forgotten all his questions. He was just really, really impressed with the song – and I was really, really flattered with his response.
Flattery makes for a good night. That and the fact that 7-11 is now selling metal Slurpee straws. They are of the awesome.
Thoughts: the mountains are steaming and beautiful in the rain. Children under the age of 7 should speak exlusively in the dialect known as LOLcats. It would make them a lot more endearing and chill a bit of my desire to see so many of them crushed beneath my New Rock flaming boots. New Rock was also responsible for the Klingon boots in some of the Star Trek movies. That’s awesome.
From a letter to a friend:
By now we’re climbing up into the mountains south of one of my favourite little towns in the country – California, PA. We’re playing their college tonight, for whatever reason a small bastion of rabid ilyAIMY fans. They pay us well and feed us well and the scenery is heartbreaking. It always rains on the way in and showers us in sunlight on the way out – and true to form – at the moment we’re being treated to fierce spats of drizzle interspersed with dramatic, torn watercolour skies. As we head higher we’re beginning to see reds and golds and shafts of sun reaching down to get us some REAL drama.
The seasons always hit a little early up here and though my brain knows it’s still too early, my heart is hoping the grey outside means cold, cold air and it’s straining for autumn leaves and maybe even the smell of snow. After the show tonight we’ll get to hang out on the Monongahela till I can’t stand it and step back, shivering, my head full of the mist and the fog and imaginings of black depths and tentacles. (say it together, there ARE no river-kraken, there ARE no river-kraken… but what about the naga?)
Baeckel has once again changed his appearance dramatically and appears to us a vision of budding professorism, perhaps a Jim Henson clone. He looks all growed up!
Sweet-voiced Erica grinning after threatening to eat… whatever that is in front of her.
We’ll be spending the night at a friend’s coffeehouse – we play there sometimes but generally just come to hang out – it was actually the thing that first brought us to California. Jozart is my favourite coffeehouse / music venue / book shop / art gallery / ex-roller skating rink / tattoo parlour / hookah bar / design firm / whatever else it is ANYWHERE. Huge and old and wooden and creaking, wind will come creeping through the floor-to-ceiling windows and starlight will trickle in, distorted by old glass and we’ll each grab a couch and snooze. The place opens earlier than we wake and we’ll slowly become conscious to the owners saying “hush! I think the band’s still asleep” as they direct their earliest morning patrons to seats well away from us. We’ll wake to the smells of whatever coffees Jay and Bish are in Love with at the moment and perhaps to the strains of whatever tunes Dennis is teaching to his 9 year-old students this week.
Weeping willow reflected in mountain ponds, clouds like cotton streaming out of the pine forests high above us, everything steel grey vs lush greens. Complain about cars and traffic and pollution. Interstates are awesome.
Twrr.
