Hehe. We’ve just passed Nutbush and Bollocksville. We’re heading for Richmond, and then to the 8.13 festival, which is practically the same thing as heading home .
Before heading out, we took our guitars down and hung out with the owner of an Indian import shop in the artsy section of Durham. Orlando has travelled all over, it seems, with much of his time split between his importing and playing percussion. We talked shop, we talked drums – we played music, and I’d like to think we provided him with a welcome break in his routine. I’m looking forward to coming back in October, maybe playing with him a couple of times.
I could say tonnes about what we’ve been doing for the last day or two – but I think Heather’s going to breech her silence and fill you in. Yessss.
I’ve been thinking about music – I’ve been excited about it. I want to jump up and down more and play with more distortion. I want more hard-core in my Life. With an acoustic guitar, of course.
Having to drive without the air conditioning has reminded me of things I’d lost. Driving in my lady Bus with the windows open and a steady diet of 60 mph. I’ve missed the solid flow of air under my hand, and the spiking feel of road grit impacting my skin – the unimaginable cold of mist ripping through my arm. My hair is being condemned to tangle and to ruin (it makes me think of shearing it short) but it’s a wonderful sensation that makes me wish for motorbikes and convertables. I shudder at the passage of semis (Living this close to death) thinking about how a misstep under their massive wheels, or a moment of sideways slippage at seventy, hydroplaning to the guardrails. Driving’s a dangerous game and rains are getting thick.
