we dig it out

Wake up in Atlas. Stiff neck. Sore joints. I'm young so fuck it. Last night was a drunken parade at Moby's. Minus the occasional shitfaced dick bag, the crowd was very cool and quite receptive. I really like to chat with people - it's one of the best parts of touring. However, there is a massive difference between having a chat with someone and being talked at by drunk people. After a while, being a verbal punching bag starts to wear on you.

As of Monday we are two weeks away from our scheduled return. It is strange to think that we spent five weeks getting here and are going to return in two. Especially considering that we still have a good handful of shows on the trip home. This coming Wednesday we are returning to Lloydminster to pickup THOR. A final attempt to bring him home and salvage something from that train wreck of an idea.

Last night I had a chance to play some piano outside of a performance context. It was nice. Creativity is a strange beast. I hit two notes I've hit a hundred times before but this time they struck me just right. No time to work it out, but make a mental note and hope that you can get back to it when the timing is right. Slippery beast no doubt.

Today we will wander around on the island. It should be packed tonight. It should be empty tonight.

Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?

g.

we dig it out