I’m freezing and I’m grateful because there have been
moments recently when I thought I’d never be cool again. I frankly smell
terrible and look worse and everything is cold and damp and though part of my
good mood is entirely based in knowing that this is all temporary, I’m
absolutely Loving it.
Though when I think about it, my body SORT of feels like I’ve
been camping. But Hell no, I’ve NOT been camping.
I think I’m already a little bit confused about what day it
is, which is typical of travel, but it really IS only our third night out. And
like something out of much younger times our moods have swooped from high to
low to high again with such vertiginous suddenness that it feels like hormones
more than circumstance.
Tuesday morning we got the HELL out of Catonsville and I was so very joyful. I feel like we’ve been sitting still, and listening to the news and watching my friends and waiting to be mobile, it’s felt like we were waiting for the world to end and Trump and the rest of the globe’s leaders were all to willing to oblige. Movie-level crime in Baltimore, Iran and America playing brinkmanship games, trade wars and race wars and cold wars threatening to ALL go hot combined with my own sense of eternal helplessness, LEAVING makes me feel like I’m doing SOMETHING.
It’s the feeling of being in motion again…
I can hear the words but I can’t place them right now. We
have no internet connection, no mobile connection, the world will just have to
wait on my rusty memory to see if the context will show up.
And so back home finally the pleasant temperatures of a
stormy spring have sprung into the oppressive humid almost hundred Hells of a
Baltimore summer – and just in time it’s time to LEAVE. Packing the car a
little heavy as if we’re out of practice (or as if we have to pack for a wider
array of circumstances, which we do) we head north with a purpose (the purpose
of heading north, specifically) and are soon crossing state lines in that
hurried way that you can do on the east coast.
Crossing the “new Tappan Zee”, seeing the old bones of the
old bridge almost completely removed, watching the skies get closer and closer
we’re JUST crossing the Hudson tonight, staying in Pleasantville, NY with
family. We make tacos and chat and play with the dog and chat and play Fallout
in VR (slightly terrifying and very hot and sweaty) and chat.
rainy lawn and I guess Don didn’t make it off the mountain after all, still, I
don’t think we’re destined to cross paths this morning]
The next day it’s a leisurely departure made more leisurely
by the amount of office work Kristen and I have. A graphic design job and the
wrapping up of some web design are both made easier by me sitting still for a
little bit longer and we only have a two hour drive ahead of us. Less really,
but we’ve got to build in time for Kristen to get New York-style bagels while
we’re still in New York.
Before we go we hang out with the family watching as their
back patio is ripped up by workers trying to level (as in make level, not as in
destroy) the earth beneath it and in the process they discover a small green
snake. Jokingly threatening to fling it on a coworker, for a moment I’m worried
they’ll just smack it dead with one of the shovels, but they take the time to
chuck the hapless beast into the bushes, and though I know just how fragile
their little ribs are, I hope that the temporarily aerial reptile escapes
injury and enjoys it’s brief moment of flight.
From Pleasantville, NY it’s time to head north and head to work – Heather’s been talking up the Egremont Barn for months and it’s time for us to see for ourselves. Easier said than done because as you push through the velvety curtains from the sunlight exterior, all comers are immediately stopped by the dimness of the interior. A BEAUTIFUL interior… but a DARK interior! After a delicious dinner the barn quickly fills with locals intent on making a ruckus and together we all play music for the next three hours or so. Good scene, fun collection of artists. A well-run, good-sounding, good-LOOKING open mic night. The place actually reminds me heavily of the New Deal Café with all the dancing and the sense of joy and jam.
We meet the owners, make some friends, generally have a
great time. Our strategy in being here is three-fold – first to regain our
sanity through heading north and bloody well playing somewhere beautiful,
second to see about booking the Barn and third to advertise for tomorrow’s
show.
Mischief-managed on points one and two, but though it’s “only”
a 40-minute drive to US from Eggremont to the next night’s show at Dream Away,
it is a much bigger deal to most of the people in the area. In addition, in all
the ways the crowd reminds me of our friends and fans at the New Deal Café back
home, we also come to realize that they remind us of the New Dealians in
another way : they’ve got something great right in their backyard and don’t
really feel the need to go to OTHER venues. These new fans will probably come
out and see us if we come back, but are probably pretty venue specific.
Unfortunately, from there the night pretty well goes off the
rails. We didn’t know anyone in the area so we’d booked a hotel through one of
the online aggregators and unfortunately, the cheapest game in town was SO
cheap that when you show up, no-one’s there to let you in. The phone number
according to the online aggregator connects you to the wrong chain, the CORRECT
phone number is the one that’s findable via google and is also written on a
sign up front – but calling the number you’re supposed to call if you roll in
late gets you nowhere and we were eventually forced to improvise. Fortunately,
improvisation consisted solely of rolling to the place next door where a very friendly
woman happily took my money and showed us to a room.
The next morning there’s time to kill because we’re (as
above) not very far from our next gig. We spend the day working at a coffeeshop
before heading to the Dream Away Lodge.
Looking back at the Journal, we’re shocked to realize we
haven’t been here in seven years! Joey had been here with another band just a
couple of weeks ago and I’d been looking forward to coming back, but we were
all kind of shocked to realize how long it’d been.
A lot has changed, but the place is still the same and we
wander the grounds after having an exquisite dinner. Incredible gardens and
verdant paths. I do my part by petting the animals and feeding the mosquitoes
and settle in to play a really wonderful (if overly hot and sweaty) show. AND
someone came out from Eggremont so mischief managed on point three as well!
Heather had been viciously (and viscously) sick since her
honeymoon and though there are some remnants, tonight’s the first night she’s
feeling like she’s really got her breath back. We play our little hearts out
and well-and-properly exhausted we retreat to the Dream Away’s “shack” – a beautiful
converted barn that would easily sleep three times as many. In the grey light of the rainy morning I
realize that it’s probably only marginally smaller than the Barn we played in
the night before.
Unfortunately, after a hot and sweaty show and a cold and
clammy night, the thing that I was MOST looking forward to this morning is
looking less and less palatable : last time we were here I was the only person
to avail myself of the shower : an outdoor spigot that pumps deliciously hot
water into the bushes next to the house. Not being forewarned, it’s still a
magical experience showering naked on a mountain in the Berkshires, but today
it’s cold and rainy and somehow I can’t quite bring myself to do it.
Fortunately, I can probably take a shower when we roll into
Glastonbury tonight. Surely. Probably. Hopefully.
Well – Kristen hath finally risen so I guess we’re slowly
getting our act together. I’ve got to remember swim trunks for next time. It’s
just stupid that we don’t use the hot tub while we’re here!
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