April 06, 2004

9:13 p.m.

Midwest Tour, Second Half

(From) Wednesday, 3/31/04, very late

It's humbling to play in a college cafeteria. That's all I'll say about our noon set. The evening was a little better, though sparsely attended. I think we took this gig because they paid us really well. That would be the only reason we'd do it again!

One fellow (obviously not a student, but a local person) said we were a cross between Manhattan Transfer and Bruce Springsteen in his Americana period. I'd throw in a little CS&N, give it a twist of Celtic and call it a cap.

There were so many little details of which I made note during the day, intending to put them here, but they no longer seem relevant. The whole day is just a blur of not being in a listening room, having the sound be muddy, and not feeling like saying much between songs because the kids are getting pizza and chatting and being totally oblivious to the pearls we're casting. Far be it from me to be judgmental but... I HATE GIGS LIKE THIS.

Still, the rest of the week should be pretty good, and it looks like we'll have to find some road breakfast tomorrow, so maybe there's an IHOP in Wisconsin. They make the best lingonberry crepes. sometimes my mouth just waters for them. (They're called "Swedish Crepes," I believe, so look for them next time you're there.)

Tomorrow will be a long ass driving day, and we're not sure of our route or where we're staying. Carol's cousin had a heart attack and has been in the hospital in Columbus, and she'd like to stop by and see him, but hasn't been able to get in touch with him today. So we don't know if he's out of the hospital or what. If we don't go, our route will be totally different. Saturday we play near D.C. but it'll be too expensive to get a hotel really nearby on Friday night, so we have to plan to land three or four hours short of there. A couple of plans to stay with people fell through, and we ran out of free housing options. We did a little research and mapping tonight when we got back from the gig, and now it's late enough that I'm shorting myself on sleep. That's okay; we don't play again for three days and I certainly don't have to do much about my bed hair tomorrow. We just have to be back at the University by 8:45 to pick up our instruments from the locked room. This hotel doesn't have an elevator so we saved ourselves a lot of stair trips by leaving them there.

Time to put my aging body to bed.

Thursday, 11:43pm We're in Cleveland, staying at some cousins of Carol's that I hadn't met before. They're terribly nice, and very artistic people, who do a lot of theatre and painting and music making. I'd say they're in their late 50's. Barb is in a play based on a book of poetry by nurses, and it got invited to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival this summer, airfare free. Two weeks in Scotland. She said she probably wouldn't go because it's right at the time of this and that and the family reunion and all. We looked at her, goggle-eyed, and said of course she should go! She's never been to Europe at all, and they could wing it so Denny goes as well. I hope we helped her change her mind.

We arrived late, around 8:30, so we picked up some food at the grocery store and Chris made comfort food -- grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches, and tomato soup. I had a just terrible day driving -- it was way too long, I kept being irritated at having to repeat everything over the walkie talkie twice because I think Chris is getting hard of hearing, and the last couple of hours we went through a heavy rain and snowstorm, in bad traffic, and it wasn't any fun. And I finished the last CD of The DaVinci Code, and I still think it's a genius book, but there was something about the end that was disappointing and unfinished (Carol later said there's a sequel in the works, so that all makes sense now), and all day I just wished I had someone close to lie with at night.

Now, I HATE sleeping with people, and always have. My bed is mine, corner to corner, and you can find your own, thank you very much. But I was listening to Peter Mayer's song "Crawl In," about how his little daughter would come into their room at night after a bad dream and ask to get into bed with them, and what a comfort that was. "It's the mother we run to, the lover we cling to, the bedside we seek in the night," he writes; "It's a walk down the hall we make when we're small, and make for the rest of our lives." That makes me think of all the people who find comfort in each other's proximity at the end of the day, and I realize suddenly that I can't remember the last time I had that. The notion alone is utterly foreign to me, while it's an everyday occurrence to many others, and I wonder what all kind of spiritual and biochemical nourishment they're all getting that I'm not. And that maybe all my railing against bad choices and impossible people and irritating personal habits and how nasty it is to have to put up with someone in my space all pales in comparison to the ability to make that walk down the hall. Then I think I'm maudlin and want to pull out all my nose hairs slowly until my eyes bleed.

On top of all that, my phone went dead and the spare battery was sitting in my purse, unrecharged since the last time it went dead, and then the batteries in the walkie talkie ran down. And Chris was driving so fucking fast all day I could hardly keep up with him, and that's never happened before. So I felt all cut off and left behind and not paid attention to.

Then I bought new batteries at a rest stop, in the pouring rain, and gassed up the car, and by then it was snowing, and later I remembered I had the car charger for the phone so I plugged that in, and finally after an eternity and a half we got here and I was praying for my own room and to not have to sleep on a pull out couch in the living room with the metal bar across the back that severs my vertebrae, or a cat that sleeps on my head and makes my nose plug up, or to have to be in the big drafty basement room that smells musty and has dust bunnies the size of pod people under the furniture (which also makes my nose plug up.)

So after the grilled cheese we were shown upstairs to our rooms, and I do have my own room, and though it's a pull out couch we all tried it out and there was no bar to be felt, so that's okay, and I have plenty of blankets so that's okay, and they don't have any pets. So that's okay.

So we watched a taped episode of The Apprentice because C&C are addicted to it and Barb and Denny are addicted to it (though I never watch it at home because I can't stand seeing people be fired), and it was actually fun. And now we get to go to sleep and sleep in as late as we want and they'll make us waffles in the morning and show us the beginning of an indie film that Barb is in, and we'll sing them a funny song before we leave.

And even though that tomato soup had about 40,000 milligrams of sodium in it per cup and my fingers are busy swelling to the size of kielbasas, at least that means I won't get up three times in the night to pee.

Things are looking up.

Friday - Knight's Inn, Somerset, PA. Only about 3 hours' drive today, and we landed at this faux Medieval lodging with castle-esque adornments that was ten dollars a room cheaper than the Super 8 across the street. The mirrors and the headboards have rampart-like pointy bits sticking up on the corners, and there are ornamental dark beams across the ceiling which obviously aren't holding the ceiling up. They get a lot of business for the price; it's a huge place and our side filled up in about an hour.

Note to myself: order a small white noise machine for travelling. I keep wanting to do this and forgetting. I have one at home which I love; it's on every single night because Mr. TV downstairs stays up til two or three with his on, and it's right under my bed, it seems. They're wonderful gadgets.

Tuesday notes, 5/6 I had more from this entry; it was good, but I lost it. I talked about opening for Jonathan Edwards Saturday and Sunday. We'd been wanting to play at The Birchmere for years and it's hard to get an opener there. We felt suddenly small in a very big pond. They were warmer towards us after we played. Saturday, the Sellersville treated us to dinner at a posh restaurant down the street. It's supposed to make up for the pitiful pay. I mentioned how Jonathan lives in St. Croix and tours only in the summer and on spring break, to coincide with his 15-year-old's school vacations. The rest of the time he sculpts and paints and makes furniture. And that you, too, can have this life if you invest well from your one hit single!

But I lost all that in cyberpurgatory. It's not surprising; I've been working all day at getting the new laptop up and running and you know how that goes. Two steps forward�

So this is the end of the Great Midwest and DC Tour of 2004. Now onto the next steps.

Incidentally, I got a long message from Will on Sunday night. He wasn't supposed to be using his cell phone but said he was cheating, and from the way he referred to himself as "Bubble Boy," I suspect he's quarantined to his room. He's doing very well. No infection so far, and he'll probably be home by Friday. There was a crew at his apartment, sanitizing it for his return. He'll have to be confined at home for six to eight weeks, meaning no visitors or going outside, to minimize the risk of infection. I suppose someone will deliver groceries. Rose says he'll be on immunosuppressant drugs for the rest of his life, to help ensure acceptance of the heart.

I'm starting to grasp it. It's still thrilling. And I still miss him. A lot.