October 14, 2008

9:05 p.m.

2,380 Miles, 2,380 Miles

Chris figured out, when we were within an hour of their house today, that since Friday morning we had driven 2,380 miles and been in the car for 40.5 hours.

That's sick.

The way home involved a last minute detour to his sister's house in South Carolina, where some family drama had come to a head involving an illegitimate 1-1/2 year old child, the grandson of Chris's sister, who has just been fetched from California and the arms of the child's unfit, previously jailed unwed mother.

Enough about that.

Jesse Winchester headlined at the festival we played in Savannah. I'd heard the name but was unfamiliar with his music. Boy, was I glad to hear and meet him. His songwriting is just unparalleled and he has a beautiful voice. He's probably in his 60s now and was riveting. It was the highlight of the weekend for me.

I was asking him things like, did he ever suffer burnout, or writer's block, and he was very forthcoming and sweet in answering. He tours a lot with another guy, a great guitarist he said, who has developed certain rules of the road to make touring easier for him. For instance, he never plays the same day he travels. And he never plays two nights in a row. Obviously you have to have money to arrange your tour like that; we couldn't afford to, and Jesse himself said he breaks those rules all the time. But the thought of even having rules was interesting.

Saturday we played a house concert that was populated largely by kids and barking dogs. Other than that it was fun. Our hostess is a longtime fan and cooked us a great vegetarian meal. She told me later she loved my un-curly hair (said it made me look younger than the curls) and that, whatever I was doing, I should keep it up because I looked great and healthy. Most people are telling me I've gotten too thin. It was nice to hear someone say I actually looked vibrant and well.

I guess she must mean sitting in the car all day and eating potato chips.

Anyway I may have gained a couple on this trip, from the feel of things. Right now I am mellow and full, from some great rotisserie chicken and a spinach salad and wine.. and a few gluten free cookies which, thankfully, did not taste like ass.

There were so many moments this weekend that I tried to make a mental note of, so I could relate them here... the dream I had about being with the band and having a sort of clubhouse that one reached by climbing up a ladder, not unlike the one into the belfry at St. Bees... but I had to be the first one to go up, because it was necessary for me to speak a password before anyone else would be able to enter. It was my password to my email, which is from one of my signature songs... I spoke it into the empty space, and it echoed as though coming from some other place. Then I called down, "Okay! You can come up now."

We had talked about rotating driving on the tour to Georgia, as we'd all be fried having just returned from England. Yet when Friday came, Chris was so impatient to BE THERE and get past D.C. before rush hour that, though Carol drove for a bit, he made her switch again because she wasn't driving fast enough for him. He kept telling her when the speed limit increased, whom to pass. She, in turn, when he drove, reminded him when he was speeding too much or driving too close to the person in front. I told them they were old married people. He was all fidgety if he was in the passenger seat, and meanwhile there I was all day in the back, holding onto things as he swerved lanes and took turns. I started keying into the way he'd accelerate... decelerate... accelerate... decelerate. For no reason except that he was apparently hoping all the cars in front of him would disappear so he could just floor it.

The need for the South Carolina detour (delaying our arrival home by a few hours -- and making it necessary to arise at 4:30 this morning) brought on a long conversation in the car the next day, a needed one, about my feelings about touring and possible scenarios the band could move into. We agreed that we all love the music and feel that there may be other musical avenues we could explore as a trio. However, in order for me to keep doing this, many things would have to change, that show no signs of changing. Most of those are out of our hands. Anyway we were able to talk calmly about it all and be very open, which was a start. I'd confided to Carol the night before about Chris's control stuff over the driving, which I assumed she'd keep to herself, but eventually she felt she had to mention it, and by the time we were talking about that (today), he was just apologizing for his whole state of mind on Friday and saying he did not want to be the reason the band ever broke up. He invited us to call him on it when he was being assy like that. He's just an impatient guy. He doesn't like to slow down once he's sped up, in any situation.

Ironically, it's one reason that many things have gotten done in this band.

Then there was the stop where we got potato chips; not the small, individual serving bags as they didn't have those, but full size bags. Our favorite kind: Cape Cod, reduced fat. They got some and said they'd share them with me, but I picked up my own bag. "It's one small way I can assert my autonomy," I said. "It's one of my new rules of the road: I get my own chips."

I still have some of that bag left, but in the boredom of the long driving day I ate quite a few.

And I'm beat, beat to fuck. I can't see straight. I may start a Netflix tonight, or maybe I'll just go brush the fuzz off my teeth and read a little. I'm overwhelmed by the mess here, but at least it's my own mess.