Southbound on … on some place. Somewhere. Where the Hell are we? Ohio. Somewhere. I-75? Something like that. We’re south of Dayton somewhere and on our way to Louisville, KY. We took a time out at a Barnes and Noble where I picked up a couple of books off of IO9’s top-ten scary books list. This may or may not prove to be anything LIKE a good idea – but I figure I’m mostly sleeping pretty near Heather for the next couple of weeks and if I have any really vicious nightmares, at least I need not go into the dark all alone.
The days are increasingly grey and it’s crazy to see all the news services leap with both feet into the coverage of something OTHER than next week’s election. Though the “Frankenstorm” (i.e. Hurricane Sandy + a nasty “Nor’Easter” + …er… the full moon) is looking to be every bit as nasty as meteorologists are predicting I’m still surprised at how single-minded the news services have been. I have the sneaking suspicion that they’re just as sick of politics as everyone else is and were just BEGGING for something else to cover.
Or maybe it’s just that when you look out the window you can’t help but be reminded that something is coming… and if you look at a satellite picture you can’t help but be reminded that that something is very, very, very big.
Last night Heather and I played Coffee Amici and had a great time. The shows there are always too short, but it still remains one of my absolutely favourite places to play. Craig makes our guitars sound at least 10% better than they do anywhere else (100% better in the case of Heather’s) and there’s just something SO wonderful about hearing yourself contained and projected with such clarity and authority – and in such a small space – I imagine it’s how tequila feels – brash but bottled, viciously potent and just waiting to be unleashed into someone.
Yeah. But no dead worm.