You are currently browsing the monthly archive for July 2009.
Feeling good about the band and the new songs and the video, despite our impending lack of a drummer. Feeling good about music as an art form in general. Feeling hopeful about adult life after my talk with Shelby. Feeling good and hopeful about the future of the human race, if Shelby’s any kind of an indication. Feeling good and hopeful about the future of television thanks to Party Down and Parks And Recreation. I am feeling great tonight.
Free wi-fi on a moving bus. Well, I’ll be goddamned. Hello, The Future.
I am on my way to Boston, and Yamori Kota is very good music to get me there. I’m doing the “get introspective whilst staring out the window of a bus and listening to sad ambient music” thing. It suits me well. The sloping green hills outside Middletown, Connecticut look like the wooded bluffs of the Congo, only with fewer gorillas being cut in half by lasers.
This feels like last year, except at least now I’m not homeless. I-91, we have spent some time together.
Drunk spelling bee. Made it to the third round this time (last year I missed “aberration,” somehow). The word that killed me tonight: scelerophibia. I spelled it with two Ls. Feel good about it, though. I’ll be back next year, coincidentally (B&C wedding), so I’ll give it a go again; maybe I’ll show up once every year in July and try to win the fifty bucks. Could be a fun tradition.
Trip has been non-stop kicks. Enjoying it very much. I really don’t miss Denver much right now.
In at 5:45am. No sleep on the plane. Regional rail (free, for some reason) into the city (but we met a nice fellow on the tracks who told us (Sarah Wells, me) that we couldn’t use a credit card on the train and if we didn’t have enough cash he’d cover us—so nice—that’s why this is the city of brotherly love), donuts and coffee at Dunkin’ (made me feel like I was in Boston again), and then picked up by Heather. Breakfast at—now I’m forgetting the name of the place. Incredible. Open-faced biscuit sandwich with veggie sausage, two fried eggs, gravy, and latkes with pear sauce. Philly has always had a good track record for food, in my book, and so far it’s holding to that standard.
Then back to where Heather’s house-sitting—gorgeous old brownstone-type; residing in the house is a gigantic Newfoundland, the biggest I’ve ever seen, drooling all over me—the thing probably weighs 150 lbs.—so, a too-brief nap on a toddler’s bed (surprisingly comfortable) and then up for a free show and live taping, Chairlift at WXPN, meet ‘n’ greet afterward and I tell them “Robert Laux says hello, I’m a friend, we went to school together” and they’re not as enthusiastic as I’d hoped about our mutual acquaintance. Then a beer, then back, leftovers, feeling so drained. Later: Courtney and Bob. Tomorrow: Jill on a bus from NYC.
Tired with every fiber of my body. When will I sleep?
