country roads, take me home.

and home is wherever i am. currently, home is a highway somewhere between Amarillo and Denton, Texas.

i made little presents for everyone coming on tour, little matchbooks.

the day we left everyone was waiting with their stuff, smoking, filming, relaxing until it was time to pack. the vans and 'new equipment,' *wink*, arrived. i suggested the names pinky and the brain for the vans which was quickly accepted. then role call, and then we're off. it's only been two days but we already have role call and loading down to a pretty good science (mostly thanks to dylan blanchard).

our first show in albuquerque was a house show. it was totally packed, and there were five bands on the bill including Small Flightless Birds. by the time everyone only went on everyone was already exhausted, some even asleep in the 'green room.' but, alas, we perked up and watched them rock, hard. the last song they were playing was suddenly interrupted by a "cops!" alert via nathan (who lives there) in the microphone. we weren't sure if the apple miner colony were going to be able to even play, or especially plug in. everyone seemed to be filtering out, and the mood dropped. but the go-ahead was given to set up and start, and so it was. people seemed to crawl out of the woodwork and soon it was completely packed again. there was jumping, screaming, chanting "till the cops come!", clapping, even crowd surfing (seriously). when all was said and done we retreated to tents, chairs, couches, floors and slept off the first day of tour. the next morning there were stretches/jumping jacks, and the small running crowd took off like they will every morning. we cleaned the house to a point where it looked better than when we came, and headed off.

amarillo went great as well. 10th street deli was a meow-wolf/kilby court-type venue in the heart of what seems like a great town of nothingness. i started to walk to get cigarettes by myself in broad daylight, but had to turn around and run back after getting totally weirded out by a creepy dog chained in an alley, a man pointing a fake gun out his window, and otherwise no one around. cole eventually walked me the couple of blocks. inside the small store was a burly, gnarled man with bloody hands and a wad of dip in his cheek buying a 40. he turned to cole, looked him up and down, and says, "here's the first thing: you gotta have a job. you gotta be bringing in the cash. if your'e living on welfare or food stamps you're nothing but a slacker you understand?" cole nods and says "i understand." the man keeps ranting, and the store owner finally asks him to stop harassing his customers. the man put his elbow up on the counter and said, "now you're really makin' me mad." my fingers dug into cole's arm a little but the dispute quickly ended and we made our way back to the venue, the film crew slowly following us with their mount on top of their car.
amarillo is so strange like this, full of crazies it seems. looking at the kids at the venue i couldn't help but wonder how they'll turn out. if this town is built to destroy brains or if it was just a fluke of a certain age group. a small group of people ventured out and found a bench on the side of the road with an advertisement saying "the pagan easter bunny did not die for your sins, but jesus did." there was a photos of a pink bunny crucified.

back at the venue, the show began and everyone loved everyone only, they sold 4 cds right after playing. the apple miner colony started and it took a few songs, but finally everyone tuned in and connected. aside from a group of painfully wasted and irritating yet enthusiastic girls in the front, everyone danced and listened intensely. it was a small crowd in size but big in spirit. i sold a ton of merch (soon to be sold online?), and everyone was super excited. afterward we got invited to a fancy ranch with promises of showers and hottubs and saunas by a guy who dropped about $60 on cds. but he bailed with a dead cell phone so we rolled out our sleeping bags and slept on stage in a big pile.
dylan was nominated to stand on a box to turn the light out, after the plug was pulled we wanted to see a jumpkick off the box. he prepared to do the greatest jumpkick of his life, but instead fell straight through the box. he jumped out and tried to fix it, and accidently pulled the lid off instead. the film crew missed it all! then we traded off talking about poop and philosophical items dealing with eve and the apple and so forth. i got the giggles which spawned a whole lot more giggles from the band. Ryan and a very nice female who's name escapes me went to Whataburger with a huge order for the band. we downed some beer and ate our burgers, peed behind dumpsters because the bathroom was broken, then passed out.

elise is sick and wendy sprained her ankle. kyle had to leave to get his breakpads replaced in dallas. dylan left his drumstick bag in santa fe. so far those are really the only hiccups.

and now we are back on the road. take me home again.

and can i just say how strange it is to constantly have cameras on you?

1 comment:

  1. I have to say, I wish I had pictures of that bathroom. I've decided now that I'm making an album of the variety in bathrooms we've experienced. (The idea hit me in the poodle room.)

    In terms of the Fruit of knowledge conversation, I think the way the Eden story is interpreted is sexist and have written extensively about what I think of the story. I guess my views boil down to this:If people were meant to be naive they wouldn't be cognoscente enough to figure out where the juicier fruit is and ho to get it. Eating the fruit is verifying that we are anything at all and actually tasting it.

    Hey Hallie I just read through some of you blog and I really like it. You are a good writer and I love all the photographs and poetry. One photo that I think would be nice is in Jack's collection of El Rojo passed out on the stove.Now that I know where this web page is I can read it!