Locomotive 8, Southern Crescent, hear the bells ring again...
We are in Athens, GA. Our first show without Joe and Saul in Atlanta, GA went surprisingly well. It was, in fact, entirely surreal. We played at this festival called Corndogorama, where basically the really push these $5 corndogs. We were supposed to be there at 5pm and on stage at 7pm....we pulled into the parking lot at 7:03pm and literally ran into the building and right onto stage and almost immediately started playing. We played Hooray For Shipwreck, The Farthest Shore, Look To The Trees and finally Hexenhaus and the crowd was totally amazing. They were very much into what we were doing. It was a great and mighty release of worry and nervousness and stress and tension. Now we are in Athens and have the fuel for the coming days ahead. We are playing at the old 40 Watt Club tomorrow, where my lovelies R.E.M. got their start....things couldn't be going better. Well, they could, but then things wouldn't be as they are, and things as they are are quite fine.
We went to this 24 hour diner tonight once we were in town for beers and vegetarian fare (our bodies need the vitamins) and I slipped some whiskey into my coca-cola when no one was looking and soon felt great. The neon signs were singing to me, the air vents above were humming their melodies and for at least 45 minutes it felt great to be in a touring band from Michigan.
Somewhere in the future I am remembering today. I'll bet you I'm remembering how I walked into the park at five thirty, my favorite time of day, and how I found two cold pitchers of just poured beer, sitting there on the bench. I am remembering how my friend Chip showed up with a catcher's mask hanging from his belt and how I said "Great to see you, sit down, have a beer, how are you?" and how he turned to me with the sunset reflecting off his contacts and said, "Wonderful, how are you?"
S
We went to this 24 hour diner tonight once we were in town for beers and vegetarian fare (our bodies need the vitamins) and I slipped some whiskey into my coca-cola when no one was looking and soon felt great. The neon signs were singing to me, the air vents above were humming their melodies and for at least 45 minutes it felt great to be in a touring band from Michigan.
Somewhere in the future I am remembering today. I'll bet you I'm remembering how I walked into the park at five thirty, my favorite time of day, and how I found two cold pitchers of just poured beer, sitting there on the bench. I am remembering how my friend Chip showed up with a catcher's mask hanging from his belt and how I said "Great to see you, sit down, have a beer, how are you?" and how he turned to me with the sunset reflecting off his contacts and said, "Wonderful, how are you?"
S
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