September 3rd - Levelland
Texas is just crazy. I wish I could wax poetic, but there really isn't a better way to describe it than that when it all comes down to it. Maybe it was the landscape, the four hour ride in the truck, or both. The monotonous plains and fields suddenly cave in to form enormous canyons and rolling hills; the only constant was the rain. Two things to make sure you bring on tour: a towel and a jacket...I didn't bring either. Played our show and met a vast assortment of friendly locals. Among them we had the priviledge of spending the day (and night) with our new partners in crime from Falling Down Hurts. The evening (and early morning) was spent with a triumphant celebration to wish Lance a very happy 19th birthday which, if I'm not mistaken, he thoroughly enjoyed. A big, fat thank you to FDH for providing us with a place to crash, and a big, fat apology to Joe for scaring the hell out of him on the ride to their house. With the morning came the nearly impossible task of getting my ass out of bed (a.k.a. couch cushions). Went to lunch with the FDH fellas and we were on our way. Back through those same rolling hills and across those same endless plains. I don't think it really hit me that this is all happening until that ride. Today was the first time in years that everything just seemed perfect, and to make it that much more satisfying, I got that feeling in the back seat of a truck, driving in the pouring rain for another fist-full of hours. Our next show was unfortunately cancelled, so we decided to come back home for our two days off to save some money, and I've been pissed off since I walked through my front door. Anyway, on the ride home Josh asked me to describe how beautiful Texas is so for you Josh, all I have to say is; Texas is fucking beautiful and I never really appreciated it until this trip. Good music + good people = a great change of pace.
September 8th - OFF
I find it ironic that I'm updating a "tour journal" while sitting in my own bed. Instead of the road humming faintly beneath my feet I have infomercials and a bottle of YooHoo...not that I have anything against YooHoo. The routine of it all has hit me like a ton of bricks. Human beings need diversity, risky situations and an occasional fall into the depths of insecurity. The things you fear the most are the things that will make the best stories in the future. Seeing the other side of an otherwise monotonous life makes you appreciate aspects you never really paid much attention to in the past. It's just that people today have become so good at convincing themselves that they NEED things. Security, beliefs, control, stability. Don't get me wrong, I am nothing close to what you would call a "free spirit" but I will say that I am at the very least, trying to let go. If you know me personally, you know that not giving a shit is something I've never quite mastered. These last few days however, have been such an inspiring example that maybe it's time to stop trying to figure out my life and start living it. We've come a long, long way and it looks as though we're showing everyone just a little bit more proof each day that this ain't no goddamn hobby. This is more than music. This is much more than music.
September 10th - San Antonio
San Antonio was a twenty-four hour slap to the face. Roamed the River Walk relentlessly and aimlessly for hours. Went to the Alamo and talked about that time when Ozzy pissed on it, if you can recall that. Took the rickety elevator up to the venue and when the show finally started, sat through a few hours of tasteless death metal, clouds of cigarette smoke and a wide assortment of barflies banging their heads ignorantly to the noise. The constant bar scene and endless sea of drunken expressions makes me wonder what it is that brings all those nameless faces together. Its fun to think that it couldn't possibly be the music, but I could be wrong and I probably am. The next time you find yourself in a crowded bar, elbow your way through the riot, find a wall and just watch. You'll be amazed. Its like watching a modern day version of a Hemingway novel brought to life, except with less taste. Sometimes I can't help but wonder what the guy dancing on the table with a gin and tonic in his hand does for a living. Is he celebrating his day or attempting to forget it? Some would call this study stupid, some perceptive. Once can learn so much about modern society by just shutting one's mouth and watching the way people unwind. Tonight, when the last bottle was broken and the last cigarette extinguished, we were still there and I was still taking notes. Right now, we're on our way to College Station to take shelter. Devon is asleep next to me and the city is dying behind us. Sleep well, Texas. "Hey, there's the Alamo...let's remember it."
September 15th - In Conclusion
It is extremely rare, especially in the day and age in which we live, to play to a crowd of people who have come to the show for all the right reasons. I mean, the local music scene is much more than an actual scene; its more like a competition. Regardless of whether or not you notice it, the feeling is always there. However, the fact that everyone associated with "the scene" knows that we're all in it together (and with the same purpose) brings an overwhelming sense of respect and understanding. Different locations draw different people, and with different people come different purposes in terms of the crowds, and I think anyone who has attended at least ONE local show can see that. Anyway, each and every band has something to offer, as well as an obligation to the scene (and the people) to make that "something" different and/or original. There have been bands (big and small) whose music I haven't cared for, but I still cannot help but respect completely because what they are doing and what they stand for is completely new. A break in the routine is refreshing in any sense or situation, I don't think anyone can honestly deny that. The past several days (both on the road and back home) have been a slide film, and I'm not trying to wax poetic, goddamnit, I'm being honest. All I'm saying is that in life there is no promise of tomorrow, but if I died tomorrow I'd have some bad ass memories. Its all strange, really. You anticipate it for months, you leave, you have a great time and then suddenly you're back to the same schedule you were so anxious to ignore. The job, the school and in some cases, the people. For so long you're trained to believe that you're born, you work and then you die and that's it. Believe what you want. The future happens and it happens fast so "do whatcha do and do it real big, baby."
"How long ya on ter' fer'?"