Author: Centro-matic

Got a ticket from a New York state trooper on the way into the city which threw a damper on and otherwise nice Saturday afternoon. He had a smirk and a built-in disappointed dad look that I probably don’t have to explain. No ‘stache, but an uptight gait. We are not dangerous. We are just scruffy and like to ride free. Nevertheless the whole NYC experience was yet again first rate. Great to see all the friends from up that way, and the Mercury crowd was plentiful and kind. Philadelphia’s very excellent Dr. Dog played on the bill, and their latest offering is worth checking out. Got our lazy on for Sunday afternoon, enjoying some Pojmanian bomb-lettes and coffee, eventually rolling out slowly to Philly with our friend, Darci. Khyber crowd was one of the most raucous and enjoyable of the tour thus far (thanks much for that kindness), and Omaha’s Neva Dinova joined the Generals and us for the whole thing. Wound the night down with some laughs, a PBR and quiet concerns about Cardinals pitching.

They say Ithaca is gorges, and that’s the damn gospel. Marty yet again assembled a breakfast that brought tears of joy to our eyes, and we took advantage of the short routing and spent the morning listening to records, reading and embracing general laziness. Was only a couple of hours to Ithaca, so we took the scenic route along one of the Finger Lakes only to happen upon a waterfall vista that I’m still spun up on. There was ice draped down over the rocks for many stories, and vast amounts of water rushing down for what seemed to be about a quarter of a mile drop into a cloud of mist below. There was still snow everywhere which made it all that more otherworldly. I think Pence got some quality shots that will thankfully speak for themselves so I can shut up about it. Got to town and found we were up against Jon Stewart. Kind of a bummer, as we woulda dug seein’ his show. Put him on the list but he didn’t make it. Full blown campus dining experience thanks to Beth and Cornell, and it was the most well assembled and complex campus cafeteria scene I ever did stumble upon to. The bread and pastry area is titled “Dough my Gosh” or somesuch and there’s an entire wall of cereal bins. At any rate, show went well and we had good times hanging with the Cornell-ians in the cold. Our friend Jeff was kind enough to lay in a load of PBR for us in the bed his truck just outside the door (thank you, kind Jeff). We got busted shuttling it around the back area, but you know, we didn’t know. Acting nineteen’s fun, even when you’re in your thirties.

We’re in good hands with our friends Macklin, Marty and some two foot snowdrifts, enjoying the late winter sun and the beauty offered by these latitudes. Sunny and cold’s been the order since D.C., and as up against it as we felt for that Boston show (Lou Barlow next door, the Finn Brothers somewhere in town, the Frames somewhere else, Wednesday night, big snow, God knows what else.), we cut into the good times with that crowd. We’re thankful for the showing, and it felt good to share the bill with our pals from Trucker tourdom, Runner and the Thermodynamics. Got to Buffalo for another snowdrift load-in and recommended cheesesteaks from Donny and Eric. The Generals sounded great as ever, and the their dumptruck-load of right on-ness was felt in western New York. Middle act’s fascinating and grossly pretentious delay in changeover sent me to the sidewalk for phone calls and smokes. In the wake of such events we had a suspiciously efficient changeover and gave our best to our patient and kind Western New York/Southern Ontario friends.

The temperate dream is over and the camp’s scrambling in the bottoms of suitcases for longjohns, parkas and related attire. Inevitable, I guess. Weather changed right around Savannah, and I got a feelin’ it’s not looking back. Durham on a Monday looked like anyone’s guess on paper, and we were pleased to find that folks were willing to battle the cold and stop on down. Omaha’s Beep Beep joined the Generals and us for a one off, and Handsome Anders Parker jumped up on guitar for “To Unleash the Horses Now”. Sound was unwieldy, but spirit was present. Duke’s in a comfortable lead as far as tour graffiti rankings go, as it’s some of the most impressive we’ve seen thus far. Kant? Wordsworth? Seriously, we ain’t at Love’s no more, Maudine.