Category: diary

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.

Was great to see Bev and all the WMNF crew again. They graciously brought enough homecooked food to fill Skynrd and crew, and gave us a tour of their new facilities that were just completed. On air performance was rickety but serviceable much like a Jason Marquis outing. Stole a nap in the van later at the New World in order to get my head right for show, and the humidity was fantastic and monster-ish. Ybor City has become quite the municipal nightlife playground with its cigar stores, Starbucks, and dance clubs, and it’s always fun to roam and dodge all the folks in white pants, rayon shirts and ready-for-the-weekend cazzzzh sandals. Mandals? Show was lots of fun, and New Roman Times were smokin’ in front of the home staters. Was good to be with them again and hang with all the FL friends. Very porch-like atmosphere here, and I think we turned in a decent one for a very superb crowd. Managed to get “Huge in Every City” in at the end of the show, and I recall borrowing someone’s beer somwhere in there. Thanks for that. Loaded out happily in the mist and light rain, only to wind up at a Lakeland Waffle House with the NRT’s scowling at me eggs and giggling at dumb shit, making noises. Rain was pouring by then. Got back to Orlando by morning light thanks to Shane. Loaded things back into the NRT house and landed sleepily and soundly. Uly was not spastic for once.

Uneasy and not sure-handed today for lack of sleep. WMNF radio thing in a little while and nervous about it some. Rain got to us pretty good yesterday, and we sprinted through parking lots in puddles clad in water-welcoming shoes and coats. Gator fan could smell my Volunteer-sympathetic blood at Bread Company and stared at me with suspicious eyes. Steve Miller was on the radio again and it was no accident. No accident, man. Wood screw in front right is holding well though I’ve got my eye on it every day. Won’t pull it out as it might ruin the good times and what good are ya’ if your good times are ruined by your own hand? Got to our friends’ Josie and Dan’s in Winter Park in time for reunitin’, coffee, Stroopwafels and an inevitable nap. Their Jack Russell terrier, Uly is a good but spastic friend in times of nap. His balls are gone. Pho 88 for dinner as Orlando tradition holds, and you should go if you go. Show at Will’s was real good times but Jason has to leave us tomorrow for his Alabama homeland. To say that we’ll miss him just sounds flimsy. Back to Josie and Dan’s for a couple of beers, a half-written song on a bunk bed, still spastic Uly, and conversation. 7am before I know it and merely hours before departure. Uneasy and not sure-handed now. WMNF radio thing in a little while and nervous about it some.

It’s a straight shot to Gainesville from Atlanta, and we made sweet time through the pines and peanut stands and Orlando Vacation Bureau outlets of southern Georgia and north Florida. South of Macon, the landscape sprawls out pretty nicely, the traffic dies and the highway moves fast. Once you get to Florida, they give you three lanes to work with on each side, and it can become something of a speedway what with all the winterbirds and Disneyheads. I’ve enjoyed some good drives in this corridor over the last couple of years, watching sunsets flicker through the pines while listening to local radio glubs fumble their way through the call of Valdosta High baseball games. Got to Common Grounds, checked and strolled around to a couple of restaurants until we finally got served. The venue’s moved since I was last here a couple years ago, and has improved its whole situation nicely. The staff was great and the show went pretty well, but maybe some of the crowd had spring training on their minds? Loaded out and found our way to one of those Ramadas that our grandfolks might’ve stayed in back in the day – all separated buildings, one story, with lodge-like beams and decor in the rooms. The woman at the desk would eventually suspect that I stole a remote. I did not. Fell asleep and dreamt of spring training.

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Routing was good today. Only eighty miles or so to Atlanta, so relaxing, visiting and large quantities of breakfast food were the order of the afternoon. Patterson and Rebecca graciously invited us and some friends over for coffee, breakfast burritos, sausage, beans and potatoes, and we decided to make a day of it and thrice up to some high impact lounging. Their friend, master painter and illustrator, Byron Wilkes was in from Alabama, and Jen, Pistol, Mary Catherine, Zach and much of the Athens family came over for a good while. Days like this on tour could be seen as a band’s best friend and a booking agent’s surest form of job security. We blazed through some nine or ten pots of coffee, observed the science vs. art nature of the Broad Street road construction, and enjoyed the company and laughs. Farewells were bid, and Jason got us to Atlanta in good time as the skies clouded and nighttime arrived. Had some dinner courtesy of the EARL (superb place to eat should you find yourself in east Atlanta), and caught up with some friends. We had a great time playing, and I recall doing The Toaster to the best of my ability at show’s end. Thank you, Scott Munn for corralling the ever-so-necessary beverages that fueled my juvenile, aerobicizin’ actions.

We took some lesser known roads amongst the pecan sellers, sword handlers and peach pushers of southwestern Georgia. And maybe it’s just the Chik-Fil-A talkin’, but I’m always up for the emotional elixir of another Athens/Tasty World visit. We stumbled upon Steve Miller three times in an hour on the radio (no accident), and the weather was spring-like. Macon had traffic as usual on 75, and the word had come down the line not to eat before the show, as Jen and Shayne were assembling a big gumbo dinner for us with some banana pudding for dessert. We arrived, checked, quality controlled the PBR of the establishment, and if ever I was drunk on gumbo and banana pudding I sure was that night. Thank you, Jen. Thank you, Shayne. Our friends, Lake City opened the show in marvelous and stately fashion. Matt/Pistol Stoessel (SSG) is the principal songwriter and singer, and he casts a beautifully Zevon-ian mood over the room. Check them out if you get the chance. Was a real fun night for the Generals and us. The crowd was superb and I feel like both of us turned in pretty good performances out of the whole thing. Upon shutting the place down, I made my way back to Patterson and Rebecca’s for a last beer and an introduction to Ava Ruth, their newborn daughter. She’d just completed her fifteenth day in this world. I held her for a few minutes as she dozed peacefully, then found my way to bed completely content with this February Tuesday.