It’s one of those mornings where I’m up in the MORNING morning. The sun’s slowly rising and light’s filtering in. I’m pre-magic, but the colour gradations outside the window are giving Yellowstone a run for its money. It’s one of the interesting things about returning from a long trip and settling back into your Life. Realizing there’s incredible beauty right here.
This past Friday we played a new-to-us venue called the Old Anglers Inn. A two-hundred-year-old … inn? With sprawling gardens lit by Christmas lights and firepits. We got there extra early to beat some of the 5-8 hours of Friday DC-area rush hour and explored the park across the street. I have fond memories of Great Falls with friends in high school, with a short-Lived but heart-felt claim to fame of grabbing Kristin’s hand (different Kristin – high school Kristin) just as she slipped off the top of a rock. It’s the closest I’ve come to saving someone’s Life.
KristEN and I clamboured and walked and – well, we didn’t really WANDER – we followed the path along the canal till it was time to turn around, come back and play the show.
A sedate audience at first, but you could tell right from the beginning they were into us. Just… shy. Like they weren’t used to liking the music or something. (we got a couple of people who said exactly that actually) Strange lighting and fire and Halloween décor. I’m glad we were there for THIS version of the venue, because the skeletons with their moist-looking glass eyes added a very specific ambience, as did the severed head on the stage.
I dug it.
It’s Sunday morning, so I don’t know that I get to say this yet – but I AM worried that the long drive home, listening to Van Halen, was the last GOOD moment of the weekend. Yesterday, “No Kings Day”, was spent worrying about Kristen driving into DC for a gig and doing text battle with a cousin who wanted to send me facts and figures about ICE since “social media and Biden ruined the nation”. He’s pretty firm that Trump’s arrests were all that were standing between us and illegal aliens raping us to death – but when I picked at the numbers he sent me, including pointing out that they’d all come from Biden’s era and didn’t reflect anything Trump’s done he started sending me social media reels instead. I also had a bad call with my mother, which really was a half-assed attempt on my part but since it’s the first time she’s picked up in two weeks, getting THROUGH to her was at least SOMETHING.
But it meant that last night maybe I thought about family and the future and doomscrolled more than I ought to.
I wonder if I can get myself to go back to PAPER BOOKS so that I can leave my fucking phone in another room.
But Friday was great. And maybe today will be good too. No Morsbergers tonight so I have ANOTHER day off but I’ve been having a good deal of difficulty making myself FUNCTION on days like this. Photo-editing and catching up on the Journal only salve my do-nothing conscience by drips and drabs.
I guess I’ll call my mom again.
Leave a Reply