It was a 16-hour run today, up to Denton from Austin, then across I-20 to this Motel 6; no Priceline luxuries tonight, just a browbeating from a wiry night clerk, some tiny soaps that turn your skin to chalk and some undersized towels.
This time tomorrow we’ll be starting a three-night campout with our friends the Drive-By Truckers at the 40-Watt. Once we get there, it’s genius routing. Three nights with a band we love, at a club we love, in a town that I’ve never been too tightlipped about my crush on. I had a dream about Weaver D’s two nights ago, and I suppose there’s a reason for that. This room smells a little like old fish and shoes, and that night clerk’s attitude could stand a recalibration, but those things can’t come close to killing the good feelings I’m about to go to sleep on.
-Will