There are many travel blogs out there . . .
A lot of them will tell you about what it’s like to walk off a plane into some remote culture. The bliss that comes with eating fresh coconut on a beautiful beach in the Caribbean. You will read these things, and you will feel jealous. Wanderlust, itchy-feet, maybe you will relish their experience because it brings you back. Continue reading
as their tour manager. A perfect arrangement for a vagrant like myself and a band like them. Since I started helping them at last year’s South by South West, we have traveled through nine states, one Canadian province, four cities in Japan, and I have heard them place at least 80 times in 65 days. That’s an average of one show every five days.
Thursday night they played a great show in Denver at the Marquis Theater with the legendary mr. Gnome. The weekend was supposed to look like; Friday-10am drive to Salt Lake City and spend the night there, Saturday drive to Boise, play a sold out Record Store Day after-party at the Neurolux with mr. Gnome, Sunday the band would leave me in Boise to return to Denver and I would find my way to Seattle for the birth of my nephew.
Obviously, that isn’t anything close to what the weekend looked like, because we wanted to cross the Rockies in spring, and we had plans. Continue reading
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They’re in the fields and parks. It seems strange to see them already. Well I guess it’s about April, but they’ve been here since February. Washington seems pretty far north for a migratory bird running from winter, in the heart of winter. Maybe it’s global warming, or maybe they’re just confused like the rest of us. Shoot, I wouldn’t be in Washington in February if it wasn’t for heaters. I don’t imagine many of the other 3 million in this city would be here either. Then maybe Chief Sealth, his name wasn’t even Seattle you know, maybe he could finally rest in peace. I heard that the native folks from up around here were known to have taken their dug-out boats as far south as present day Los Angeles. Whoeee that’s far for a little podunk tree-trunk of a boat. But I guess they had a good reason. Can’t imagine why, what with the salmon gushing out of the rivers like blood from a wound back then.
I don’t know, but thought you might like to hear that, since this is all about not being about travel, or whatever. Continue reading
Vagrant. Anonymous. 