September 20th, 2006.

Heather packing the car in sunshiny Cambridge, Massachusetts. Look! She’s in a skirt! FOLK CHICK FOLK CHICK FOLK CHICK!!!!

Tuesday night at the Space, returning once again, worried that we’d see no Love because we’d gotten such a positive response in person – but then no answers to our emails, booking requests, nada. We get there early like we always do, fortunately get in early so we don’t have to hang TOO long in the car (though it was nice to sit for a little while, listening to the rain on the roof) – and then sit on the couch just sort of being quiet.

Wednesday afternoon, before heading into Boston, Heather and I hung our at Victoria Station, working hard and enjoying the day. I was assaulted by Josh’s phone, however, who has… questionable sympathies…
Whitney guards my guitar at the Skellig in Waltham, MA and gives her best Vulcan “What aare you doing amusing little human” raised-eyebrow look. She got hit on by a guy with a beer. Heather got hit on the other night… where’s MY FUCKING SUGAR!!!??

The owner walks by, does a double take and says “HEY! It’s ilyAIMY! I Love you

guys! You want to play the feature next week?” It’s flattering to be recognized. We go to pay the cover and he stops us and stamps us for free, gives us drink tickets for the night, and even offers to put us up at the venue, which is always just FUN. I Love sleeping at the gig. It just makes you feel cool, roaming around and poking all the stuff you figured you weren’t supposed to poke.

Loving it and feeling Loved. It was nice because a lot of the other performers remembered us and we didn’t disappoint. We had a charming night, though I spaced on the lyrics for Allergy. And as usual I was impressed by the talent at the Space. For an open mic especially, I like the fact that there are few people where I sort of want to escape the room. A couple of guys REALLY stood out, an older man who reminded me of Jeffrey Foucault, but with

the visual cred to back up the voice. Another guy from Florida who chose to forgo the beautiful sound system and perform truly unplugged – he had a voice like John McCrea of Cake and he was capable of Hellaprojection. He gave me a shuddery good Oh, and while looking up John McCrea’s name (cause I don’t remember ANYONE’S name, even the lead singer of Cake’s!), I stumbled across HIS tour journal. On August 26th, 2006 in Salem, Oregon, he writes:

“While in Salem, a very strange man brought our attention to what might be a new scary thing to look out for in the grazing land of the Northwest… What is known as the Chupacabra. The past 25 years have seen a resurgence of this ancient animal mystery.

The “chupa” (literally goat sucker), is so named because of the small puncture wounds it leaves on its prey after sucking out the blood. In the 1970’s farmers and ranchers in South America began reporting their animals killed by a mysterious creature. Eyewitnesses report an animal that has glowing eyes and capable of quickly killing its prey.

Was this long-haired clawed creature the Chupacabra? It is about the size of a large possum or racoon, but has the teeth of a brown bear and turkey-size claws on all four feet. The face is startlingly human-like.

So far, the Chupacabra hasn’t threatened the excellent quality of Oregon’s livestock.”

I am amused.

Late in the night, leaving the Space much later than I’d planned… Heather and I rolled into Mike and Ari’s almost exactly on time and we exhaustedly fall onto their massive air mattress. Morning came too soon after constant reminders that a church steeple (and it’s accompanying bell) are far too near for comfort. Zombies regardless, I’d just as soon the church was a little further off.

Just a pretty stairway in Putnam, CT.
He welcomes me to the Rose Room Revue in Upton, MA. He freaks the fuck out of me as well. With a horn that big, you can imagine this isn’t pleasant.

While we’re playing the Rose Room, there’s a group of four women sitting in the room and one of them keeps making these cool tongue noises. Not to be outdone, one of the others ties a cherry stem in a knot with HER tongue. A third woman (the one holding the CD in the second picture), then takes it up another notch… grabs the stem off the table, pops it in her mouth, ties it faster than anyone I’ve ever seen, spits it out on her breast and then brushes it off with a nonchalant wave of the hand. Holy shit.

Today we got up and wandered to Putnam to hang out and work (I’m disappointed because we didn’t see Mike at ALL) . Beautiful day, I think we’ve gotten our timing right on New England, and I’m ignoring all my friends in Maryland who claim their weather is being just as beautiful. It’s 60 and sunny and blue and white and puffy. Victoria Station has all the doors open and Heather and I always manage to grab the two tables right on the edge of things, watching traffic go by and squinting into the sunshine as we dream up our next sentences. I’m worried about tonight as I’m taking over for Tom Bianchi at the Skellig, sitting in as host for his singer/songwriter night. He’s booked us and a 5 piece band and I’m runnng sound on a board I’ve never run before. I’m pretty terrified.

There’s been a bunch of emails shooting back and forth, and though I’m sure I can make things go down alright, I’m just worried that I’m going to get something wrong, and I REALLY am not looking forward to running sound with a drumkit in the picture.

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