I-70 you’re a dream road. We deserve more I-70 in our Lives. There’s things I want to go see. Even on short drives on I-70 there are castles and demons and apple cider donuts, venues and shops. Shoppes even. Beauty and construction and rust.
We just stopped at the Blue Goose Bakery in Hancock, MD and gathered supplies and socks and gumption to make the last half hour out to Cumberland for tonight’s show. The drive’s felt much easier than I was expecting. Unfortunately, with the loss of tomorrow’s show we’ve got to drive back home tonight, and we’ll see how I feel about it come midnight.
Dynamited cliff face, striated stone, cresting hills into the cresting sun. I’m ADDITIONALLY angsty about not playing tomorrow because it was going to be a DRUMS show and I’m feeling a level of pent up rage that can only really be shaken loose by playing a bar gig, something with Rowan or with Joey. Something loud and vengeful. But I’m looking forward to tonight. The second-best thing to playing a LOUD show that gets your rage out is playing a quiet show that gets all the OTHER feels out. And there’s rage in the quiet too. String cuts and scrapes. Broken masonry.
And it’s a clear sky. Clouds sucked south by the raging hurricanes down in Florida, the sky is an unbroken blue that will hopefully fade to unbroken black tonight. We’ll be out west and hopefully we can take some time on the way back to stare at the sky. We Live in the city, and it’s been a hazy summer, a stormy summer, a sullen fall so far – and the trip to Europe and Sweden was markedly overcast to boot. I feel like I could count the number of stars I’ve seen since spring without taking off my shoes.
Note to self: take the time. You don’t know how much you’ve got. By the time we took the stage tonight Kristen’s uncle Joe had died down in Virginia. He took us on beautiful walking tours of San Antonio and had strange tales to tell. The show was all the more beautiful because you never know. We Love you and we miss you indeed.
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