Centro-matic

It’s Weaver D’s day. Thirty five minutes and one chicken and gravy special later, the magic had kicked in and I had fallen madly in love with the idea of a two-hour nap-

I grabbed my slippers and stole an abbreviated version of the nap I so desired and we rolled back to the club to check in and get ready for the last night. I fetched some dinner and caught up with the Summer Hymns friends over a few PBRs, and minutes later found myself intertwined in Southern Bitch’s rock greatness. Scotty and I played with them a couple years back at Smith’s in Atlanta, and as much as I dug ’em then, I enjoyed tonight’s set even more. [We] shuffled around for a few minutes, tuned up and settled in for one last show. It was a spirited and loud one, and I think our cause was transmitted sufficiently.
-Will

We sped eastward underneath sunshine on 20, enjoyed a Jimmy Lewis record, and dodged all the holes and bumps and construction that sits between Birmingham and the Georgia state line. Is that project eternal? It was not without a predictable dose of Atlanta congestion that we finally made it to the nurturing bosom of Athens. Kudzu’s hibernating for winter, but the hills are still just as beautiful to me.

We loaded in quickly, celebrated our reunion with the Truckers, soundchecked and scattered in various directions in search of sustenance. Upon return, and after sitting on a Jackson Street bench giving my liver a gentle coaxing about what the weekend had in store, I grabbed a PBR and proceeded to soak up all of Thursday opener Garbage Island’s majesty.
-Will

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