May 29th, 2006.

Thursday afternoon, wandering in search of the Rose Garden in Upton, MA, we find a town fair going on across the street. The bear didn’t ACTUALLY have ice cream on his head. That’s merely a trick of the eyeballs.

Mmm. A good day. Wandering Boston with Whitney for much of it, hunting the source of much of the previous day’s sightings of bubble teas and partaking of it… spotting numerous street musicians and partaking in them… enjoying the sunshine and the breeze and the shade and the eye candy.

Street musicians make me feel lazy – like I should be out there projecting my voice over a busy street corner, trying to make myself heard to the random masses passing by. Perhaps I should. I guess it depends on what I’m trying to do. It’s funny – earlier today I was listening to those people out on the streets and my reflex was to feel lazy, and then I listened more carefully and I started to feel arrogant.

We didn’t know WHAT to make of the Rose Garden when we first found it. It’s online reputation sure didn’t seem to match the reality of this two storey family-restaraunt and bar. It reminded me of the places my Dad used to take me when we visited his family in Pennsylvania. Good associations with food (and the food was excellent). Poor associations with music. For Heather, it just reminded her of her parents’ basement while she was growing up. The open mic itself turned out to be awesome, with host Matt Lindi introducing me to a couple of really great musicians including fellow Cutting Edge of the Campfire performer John Gerrard, who I’ve really become enamoured with. The feature of the night was none other than the Lovely Theresa Storch – and she was standing up this time so I didn’t end up just taking lots of pictures of her crotch. She was awesome but we were scheduled to meet up with Mike and Ari (our hosts in Danielson, CT) to see X-Men 3 and had to make a run for the border. We should’ve just stayed – X3 was sold out. However, we did have a great time roaming the local Walmart for chocolate chip cookies and Boondock Saints (they’re a kind of candy…?) and then went back and watched 40 Year-Old Virgin. This was a poor substitute for MUTANT BATTLE!

Returning to Putnam, CT is always Lovely. I simply Love this town. These are the old mills o’ Putnam Falls.

We DID eventually catch X-Men 3 before our gig at Victoria Station. We had some soup at this amazingly American diner beforehand. Good soup. Fucking AWESOME movie. $5 matinee? Life’s good.

After setting up for our show at the Victoria Station Cafe in Putnam, CT, we’re sitting and running through TORCH when we hear a THUNK behind us and see a bird shivering and stunned on a pillow. Heather and I go forth and rescue and release. He then thunks into a storefront across the street. Sigh.

Heather and I performing at the Victoria Station Cafe in Putnam, CT for our CD release. I can’t believe that this night, of all nights, I didn’t take a shot of the audience. But it was a night destined to go unrecorded, I suppose, as I also managed to plug my line-in into the headphone jack of my recorder for the night. Damn damn damn. Awesome show though. You’ll just have to remember if you were there, and believe me if you weren’t.

But then, if my idea is that I’m trying to communicate, and part of my contempt for the visual art world is how they single out their audience by only bothering with that part of the public that comes into their art gallery… maybe I really SHOULD be out on those street corners.

As far as I can tell, in most environments it wouldn’t neccessarily be a sound business decision, but then again, neither is walking around Boston for the day. No wonder artists like Tom Bianchi and Danielle Miraglia are so very spectacular. Practicing their chops and throwing their voices to the whims of the most hostile environment imaginable (other than the sports bar, of course). There’s an awful lot to be said for that.

Mike shows off his two new basses. His new 6-string is to die for. So, so sweet.

Evening finds us on a leisurly drive through New England into the sunset and unto Will’s pad in Warren, RI. We sit in the back yard working out a new song of Heather’s, Will stitching a new thing for his marching band. The sun goes down over pizza, and the night stretches on over a slightly tipsy game of cards. Finally I’ve opened up the second pack of Sin City cards, and we’ve learned a new game – Ramino? Romino? And Guess That Cover. I’m not good at the latter, manage to win the former. I think Will owes Heather a couple of bucks at the former, but I think we’re fine being paid in pizza.

Crazy leopard cat in Danielson, CT! He was an excellent herald of an excellent morning after a pretty rough night. Let’s just say that once again I see absolutely no appeal in ever getting drunk. It’s a particularly noisy and potentially messy activity.

Life’s okay. At the moment I’m sleepy-eyed, taking care of the last few things of the day. Looking forward to climbing in to bed. Weirdly enough, though the Trip’s been good, I’m pretty eager to be home, too. I guess there’s people that I miss more so than usual, and I’m eager to see them. It”s a nice feeling.

I handed my camera to Ari for the show… one picture of us and one picture of them! But such a very cute picture of them! They are Lovely.

Oh my God it’s 8am and the police are going up and down the street making the most heinous noise possible. That horrible… electronic squelch. The EH!!! EH!!! thing with a couple of whoops and then the horrific New England accent of a New England cop cuts in with “No Pahkin’. Wahtah Steet no pahkin’.”

There is absolutely nothing attractive about the New England accent. Especially not amplified at 8 o’clock Monday morning. The drawl of a Southerner is erotic and relaxing. The gentle of the Western twang. The New Yorker has a great air of tough about them… but New England is just a weird laziness around the R area that’s pretty much inexcusable.

While in Boston, MA, Whitney takes us to the Citadel.

Whitney and her friend Melissa admiring the Boston skyline.

Pardon me. It’s just 8am and of COURSE I’m “pahked” on “Wahtah Street”. Everybody is. My theory is that about an hour ago a police officer realized they’d forgotten to post signs about the parade today (sure enough, 8.30 should see us a Memorial Day parade, they’re going to tow that one last Jeep Cherokee, who’s owner is probably out of town) and they realized they’d fucked up and some cops who’ve probably rubbed their superior the wrong way recently drew the shit duty of telling everyone on Water Street to move their cars. Their souls have probably been tarnished by this very action. Very sad.

The Boston Citadel is an imposing structure rather reminescent of Castle Greyskull.

Either that or there’s a sponsor who’s got banners in the parade and this is a really evil plan to make sure they get seen…. Bastards.

Whitney fails to get into the Boston Citadel. That’s probably for the best as a couple of police officers showed up shortly after to check up on us and whether or not we were “firing off bazookas or doing drugs”.

Wandering Boston can be a lot of fun, though also sort of like wandering Dante’s Inferno what with all the weird little faces peering down at you from every which where.