Life is such an intense thing. I Love it… I Love intense showers, I Love intense music, I Love intense women, I Love intense days. The compaction of my Life, the pressure of it and the sweetness of relief, pushing as hard as you can till you’re sore and your throat is aching and your mouth is dry and every part of you aches. It’s the only time I don’t lie awake in bed (or on the couch, or on the floor) staring at the ceiling, lying to myself about the time…
Heather is BAD. What you see there is one of her chocolate bars, my sunglasses, some receipts and most of our toll change all melted into one solid mass. 
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA Kimmy needed cupcakes. I’d argue that it’s an obsession.
We’ve been running hard since Connecticut, making it to the Space just in time to play on Tuesday, crashing that night with Smokestack and waking up early to make the 500+ mile sprint to Pittsburgh. We arrived at the Shadow Lounge in time to get some sprawl time in on their couches before playing their open mic. That night was gorgeous, amazing talents crawling forth from the Pittsburghian streets to give me a show I would’ve paid for. We invited one of the performers, Justin, to come and open for us on Friday night and we played hard to a focused, attentive room. Afterwards it was back to Holly and Kimmy’s and parallel parking on the sidewalk, Pittsburgh style.
Thursday we hit the open mic at Valentine’s and then Friday night we played a full gig at the Shadow Lounge – working hard for the friends that had come to see us from all corners of the area. The rain tickled at our senses and prickled at us loading in and loading out, but generally failed to pummel us. We played till the owner started flicking the lights on and off in an unsubtle attempt to get us to shut up and go HOME.
We didn’t go home, but we went to the next best thing – Jozart’s in California, PA. We found one of the owners already sleeping there (we didn’t MEAN to wake him up, but the stairs are Pennsylvania! I mean… er… “loud”!) and we sprawled and snoozed and then light’s tickling our senses and it’s time to drive to Maryland…
It’s good to be home, though we only get to be here for 96 hours – this morning I got up early to go get strings (but the music store was closed) and pick up my boots (but the repair guy was closed) and visit my mom (who was asleep) and go play the Takoma Park Folk Festival (which we just barely made it to on time). Utter insanity. We drove to Takoma Park (getting turned around on the way) and walked in just in time to load in to our stage… Rowan was still on ANOTHER stage with Tinsmith (his performance with us at 3pm was his third of the day) as we set up our gear and started soundchecking. We got started early (and got an extra song into our set because of it) and played well, but sloppily. I was having a lot of trouble focusing… not really sure why. I think part of me was really worried about the Paul Simon tribute, another part of me was distracted by the audience, perhaps another part of me was annoyed by the sound issues… I was hungry, thirsty, playing with particularly fragile nails… I was definitely discombobulated.
It didn’t keep us from selling nearly 40 CDs in five minutes or so (paying off, in one performance, all of our expenditures for the album!) and from getting a really, really good response. It’s flattering to see people stop walking and stare and to see new faces light up. We’ve got to start landing shows in Takoma Park because the area simply seems uber-responsive to us.
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA Okay… so at Dozen we got really, really, really big cupcakes. With cherries hidden in them like sweet, sweet landmines. I am NOT an Alien Queen! But I can see how you might make the mistake… however I totally failed to lay my eggs in the cupcake, which is for the best, because I was swiftly almost ill from the sugar intake and had to pass the thing on to Encore who ingested it fearlessly. OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA My mouth tasted yellow and glittery for the rest of the day.
We came back and performed again for the Paul Simon tribute an hour or so later… that part of the night didn’t go as smoothly. Our version of America was sublime, but 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover was tense and frightening and Hazy Shade of Winter was almost a disaster. I blame it on the child that ran OVER my lyrics between me and my monitor during a particularly tricky part of the tune, but in truth, I just didn’t know the song well enough.
Justin and his … cousin? Partner? Agent? All sorts of things were rattled off and I quickly lost track of all the relationships they purported to have. Their voices together were really cool, along with some shaker action and some “is anyone using this guitar? No? Cool!” drumming-on-the-back-of-the-guitarness. Justin was amazing. We Loved him at the open mic at the Shadow Lounge in Pittbsurgh, PA and invited him to come open for us on Friday night. He actually dropped a paying gig to come play with us – which is pretty uberflattering. Apparently he used to make a Living as a trumpet player in New York City, but he doesn’t need any other instrument than his voice. He’s exquisite.
I Love our versions of all three songs and hope to add all of them to our regular repetoire, but they need some time to steep in our juices.
In any case, 65 hours left in Maryland and counting. I have to get strings. I have to get my boots. Rowan has a CD release after which I have to get Rowan. Crazy, crazy, crazy as a good thing. I Love my crazy Life.
(warning – annoyed rob ahead)
However, I don’t Love ringtones. As a matter of fact, I hate them. Set your fucking phone to vibrate. Your ringtone isn’t clever. Unless your ringtone is ilyAIMY and even then, it’s only cool once. When you’re showing it to me. Or to your friend who’s never heard of us. Unless it’s that new scifi tone on the iPhone. That’s pretty cool. But everything else? I don’t give a fuck about your poor taste in pop songs. I don’t care that you like your religion and want to display your Judaic pride. I don’t care that you Love disco and want to display your disco pride. I don’t care that you Love your Catholicisity and want to have a fucking hymn pouring forth from your phone every time one of your friends calls. I don’t care if you’re proud to be an American and want to display your anthemic pride, or your Pride pride (Both Hands? Come ON!!!), or whatEVER… your fucking phone Lives in your fucking pocket or on your damned hip Vibrate your bits. You know you like it. It’s tingly. I just want to hear the words “oh, hi… hold on… let me step outside real quick.” and footsteps towards the door.
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Fuck! (oh, I’m sorry – did I just type that outloud?)
Encore, Crystal and Alex’s shoes have been spending too much time in the closet together. Sarah came up from Maryland to see us at the Shadow Lounge in Pittbsurgh. She is slinky.Â
