Long flight over the Atlantic. Headed home with hope of inspiration and a guy with limbs too long for a cheap flight.
I’m glad to be headed home. It was a great trip, but every Hobbit knows what every tourist knows, that you haven’t been anywhere till you’re home again. Blazing white light outside, some old Heather tracks on my headphones. It looks like heaven without the leg room.
Kristen says she’s missed ice cubes, good toilet paper, and the cat. I’d add playing gigs to that list, but not too much else. Going the other way I’m absolutely GOING to miss the weather and Ana’s immense shower, two things that go a long, long way.
Eyeballing the weather has me downright worried actually. Though we’re inside this weekend, next week I think we play outside three times and the weather will probably be hovering between 90 and over a hundred degrees for every show. It’s the end of the world as we know it.
Ha. That’s the way the Refuge is billing our show in October. The End of the World show. I need to check in with them to know why, but I have the suspicion it’s because it’s the last Refuge show before the election, which could very well feel like the Apocalypse even IF Biden pulls a win out of his ass.
But in the moment, clouds drift by, the guy to my right shifts, Kristen reaches over and squeezes my knee. Happy birthday dear. Let’s spend it getting you home to your cat.
The first leg of the flight home found us caught equidistant betwixt two screaming babies, who eventually synched up. I feel like I should’ve found beauty in that but I did NOT. HOWEVER the pilot and Flatulus, god of winds, got us into Iceland 20 minutes early and I can’t be too spiky about that.
The Keflavik airport was a LOT easier to navigate the second time around. More sleep goes a long way, plus everyone seemed better natured. The passport people in their boxes were pleasant and everything was good right till we were dealing with Play Airlines again which just seemed poorly organized, leaving us standing in the jetway for 20 minutes before letting us on the plane. They’re ran flights to Boston, Baltimore and Washington DC all at the same time from close to the same gates and the lines even kinda interwove, with people asking the spectacularly UNUSEFUL question “this is Play? Going to the U.S.?”
Another screaming child, who seems tuckered out by now, seemed quite strong at the beginning while sitting on the runway. My theory is that he is with us from the previous plane and has eaten the other child and gained it’s strength.
But a nice surprise: our first actual interaction on a plane, a nice woman from Bloomington who clued us into the trolls in Kentucky that we’ll have to go see. I feel like I’ve not been doing my job for the past three weeks (literally true) of meeting new people and chatting with strangers. I talked to FOUR people I didn’t know headed to our plane… like a growed up!
Gotta get unshy again. Looking forward to it.
I’m taking a moment to listen to some mixes. I want to pick back up with our recordings and listening to what I’ve done for acacia reminds me I’ve got the skill to do it, I just need the patience and to rally my bandmates.
Notes to self:
Backup plan – rob mix a terrible idea
Blood Bank – add guitar for fun
This folder also includes the stuff from Chords of courage and I’m being reminded that we did a really, really good job with that. sounds killer. Except the cello. It’s carved out in a weird way that I’d want to do better.
Chicken wings – keys are too weird over the vocals and should come out.
Everything I remember about the war – surely there’s something I can do to make that flute sound better?
Hands – that buzz tone is atrocious and has to gooooo
