Sunday in Texas

I'm in the car right now, outside what is perhaps
the most infuriating chain store ever. That's right!
Guitar Center! All purchases are guaranteed to
take at least forty-five minutes. All employees
are guaranteed to call you "bro." And regardless of
what you want to buy, they guarantee that none
will be in stock, even if you can plainly see
forty-five of whatever it is behind the counter.
Of course, when you're in Fort Worth and you
don't know any better, sometimes, you gotta
make a deal with the devil. Sadly, no Charlie
Daniels songs were involved.

Yesterday was showless and travel free, so we
spent the greater part of the afternoon and
evening tromping around Fort Worth. We went to
this place that had a hamburger bun signed by Wiliie
Nelson in a hermetically sealed glass case on the
wall and ate some meat. You can only eat meat
here. Potatoes are acceptible, but I think citrus is
actually illegal. Also, I was thinking about buying
this pink, confederate flag purse on the way to
the car, but I reconsidered, being that it was
perhaps the most innapropriate thing I could've
ever bought. I got a purple one instead.

That place with the Willie Nelson bun was
thoroughly badass though. In addition to John
Hancocked bread products (there were other buns
signed by Styx and Dolly Parto), there was live
country music ("You can take the girl from Texas,
but you can't take Texas from the girl"), pool
(which Pete & I lost), and a video game called
"Extreme Hunting", wherein I accidentally
slaughtered countless bear cubs with a crossbow.
There was even a mechanical bull somewhere,
which, in retrospect, I kinda wish we would've
ridden, but I couldn't stop thinking of that shitty
Travolta movie and it sort of soured me on the
whole ordeal. In fact, I think it's good policy to
avoid doing anything Travolta's ever done, except
breathing and drinking water. Next time, though:
the bull.

Today, we drive down the 35 to San Antonio, to
play on almost the same bill as the 10th in Dallas.
We'll be joined by Tapes n' Tapes & 17 Evergreen
again, which is really rather nice, since that night
still makes me smile. The venue we were going to
play originally closed (yes, for good and forever),
but the fine folks who put it together (Music For
Listeners) swooped on another space before we
even knew what happened. So a big, hearty round
of applause for those guys. If it wasn't for them:
street corner banjo.

Now: more driving.

Paging Dr. Morreau...man that was a terrible movie

San Francisco is a funny place. About a year ago, we banned cigarettes in public parks, but not golf courses, while yesterday we shut down a golf course because of some endangered frogs hang out there. The obvious answer? Make sure to give the frogs some nice cuban cigars. Then everyone's pissed off.

Hundreds of miles south, Brad continues carving songs like they were a roast beast in Whotown. He is most likely not surrounded by cigar-smoking frogs. Last night, we got the final mix of our fourth song, which put the album at thirteen minutes and fifty two seconds so far, on it's way to the mid forties, with twelve tracks over all---a dozen, without the extra cruller thrown in for good measure. Although, strangely enough, we've been waffling about adding this weird little ditty we did in Brad's living room to the album for a week, so we actually get the baker's dozen after all. I remarked a few weeks ago that 13 songs was certainly bad luck, until Zach reminded me that Fugazi's first album is actually called "13 songs" which shut my fat mouth good and proper. In fact, I should listen to Waiting Room right now.

Well. That was a good idea. Of course, I listened to it on these earphones I got at Radioshack, which in the last week have proved the law of Radioshack, that being: "All things bought at Radioshack will either break, explode, or electrocute you within ten weeks of purchase." If you see Terry Bradshaw, punch him in the face for me.

In fact, why do I even own these things? The left earphone works maybe thirty of the time I use it. I'm going to go Gallagher on these things. Nurse, pass the sledgehammer.

Today, we're all waiting for song five. It's a mystery as to what it will be and I like surprises, so it's all gravy. The one we got yesterday is (amazingly enough) still unnamed, even though it's the oldest song on the album. In fact, it's the third song we ever wrote. You'll never hear the first one if you ain't heard it already, while the second song, well, it's the last one on the EP. I love that one.

Now, we try & get a van. Either that or a team of highly trained, extremely fast sherpas. Maybe some sort of man-cheetah hybrid. That'd be nice. You know any place we can find those?