Whoops
I never finished updating this thing. I am sorry. Well, kinda sorry. You know, like the sorry where you momentarily feel mild remorse but don’t lose too much sleep over it? That’s how I feel. Or felt.
I remember towards the end of every semester in high school and college a teacher or administrator would inevitably develop a great interest in track and field as metaphor for inspiration and sit us down to talk about runners at the end of races. “See, runners don’t slow down at the end of the race,” they’d say, “Runners don’t give in to their exhaustion but instead they push on towards the finish in spite of all that is against them. In spite of all their fatigue they reach deep down inside and summon that…” You get the idea. This metaphor - itself overworked, tired, and need of rest - was supposed to motivate us, to encourage us students to study hard and apply ourselves up to the very last day of school. And while I’m sure some students were inspired (especially those on the track team) I never really bought into it. I had a different running metaphor that inspired me. It was this: before a race a runner must warm up his muscles, stretch, and get loose, which helps prevent injury and allows him to be his best during the race. Well, as the semester wound down it indicated that the race I like to call vacation was approaching and I needed to prepare myself for vacation, you know, so I didn’t get hurt. This usually involved me “stretching” out on the couch in front of various closed books, incomplete homework assignments, and an active television set. I never once was injured by an unprepared for vacation.
That said, I guess my lack of completion here was a result of stretching my “assimilation back into normal life” muscles. Even then, even after they were stretched well and good, it still hurt when I had to go back to work and use them again. I don’t feel like I was ever really given very big “normal life” muscles to begin with, and God knows I did all I could to not work them out, but touring in a band atrophied them beyond anything has before, to the point that I have determined the wisest course of action would be to treat them much like tonsils gone bad; let’s remove those worthless things.
But first, before more tours can be toured, I must finish the first one. So here’s my more than apathetic summery of our last few days of tour:
Chattanooga, Tennessee….more like Radanooga! Seriously here, we liked this place.
Went to house:
House had beer:
House had show:
We had great time.
I’m not really sure why I descended into caveman speak there, but let’s just go with it.
It turns out that while stretching my normal life muscles I was left unable to hold a camera. So, unfortunately—and seriously here I’m just as or even more sorry than you about this—I took no more pictures for the rest of the trip. Lame? Yes. Can I go back in time? No (the van does not go 88mph). Let me just say that the other shows happened and will live on for days, if not months, in the memories of the tens of twenties of people who happened to be there and sober enough to witness them. Truly inspiring I know. It was a beautiful, completely uncaptured by my camera, series of days that you’ll just have to trust me would have gotten at least a C+ on any sort of quality of day evaluation.
Ok, so that’s all for now?
We’re going on tour again in October?
See you then?
Brett