| I am too tired to write anything of any substance. I'm tired, it's four AM and I've got to get up in like three hours to drive to Cleveland. Exhausting! Exhausting! Shit! We played for two hours tonight, two hours! What the fuck? At one point I came up front & asked the folks still around - and there were quite a few of them - if they were just humoring us, or if they were actually having fun. It seemed absurd. I mean, we played well, but shit! The fucking bar wasn't even serving booze when we quit! The bartenders had all gone home! The fucking pinball machine was unplugged! Old ladies were on their way to church when we finally poked our heads outside!
But the show was a gas. I'm out of it now. I struck out a hundred times in my mind, but never got the gumption to actually dive in. The only girl I talked to for a while turned out to have both a boyfriend and a crush on Andy, so goody for Andy but for me it was just another goddamn drink. I am so tired. What am I doing up so late? Is this wise? Is this why I left home? I was walking up from the basement at the Empty Bottle, the basement, yes, and I thought of the Television song Guiding Light which they've got on the jukebox at Linda's Tavern back home, and I had my first taste of homesickness. I know it seems a little early for that, but I've actually been here since Wednesday. Last night we went to Minneapolis and played at the 7th Street Entry. Minneapolis is FILTHY! What a horrendous downtown! Awful! Scummy! Brutal! But at the end of the night I wanted to dance 'til dawn and suddenly I wished I was in a band of spunky kids who wanted to go nuts. Instead I'm in a band of staid homeowners or wanna-be homeowners who cherish sleep beyond all other indulgences. Which as it turns out was a good thing: we stayed with some friends in St. Paul who put us up in their lovely new ramshackle home & we slept like gods, woke to coffee & biscuits & orange juice, and we all thought: how nice, that our old friends grow up and get to a point where when you stay at their place you don't have to make a mattress out of dust bunnies & stay up until five listening to their goddamn roommate talk about the Frogs. Life gets shorter but in some ways it gets better. What else? The show in Minneapolis was alright, a little shaky, some kids came from Duluth or Regina or something like that for the show & they were pleased, so it wasn't a total wash, it wasn't really a wash at all. Tonight was very good but I'm so tired & just before I started writing this Tim bumped into some big heavy piece of something and it fell over and bashed me on the side of the head & I thought he'd lost his mind and had started swinging a baseball bat at my head. I wasn't too surprised by that, though I was glad to see that it wasn't true. But it did hurt. I may be bruised. Tomorrow will tell. More later - M |
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