Long Drive With Too Much To Think About

When I'm in danger of falling asleep, I'll do this thing where I manually scan the radio stations for Daft Punk's "Get Lucky." I'll usually catch it within 10 minutes or so. Then, when it ends, I keep turning the dial until I get lucky once more. Some times I can carry it across three different stations before it ends. I can't get sick of it. It's too good.

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I got on the road in Ft. Worth at 8:30 AM yesterday. I arrived in Peoria, Illinois at 10:30 PM. 14 hours on the road. WTF, The Zombies, LIFE, Joni Mitchell and Mere Christianity kept me going. And three cups of coffee. And Shockers candy.

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I tried to hit an open mic in St. Louis on the way. St. Louis was three hours away from my final destination, the Barbee Family outpost of Peoria, IL. Edwardsville, actually, is where I stopped. I read about a good open mic there on Wednesdays near the campus of USIE at a place called Stagger Inn. Ha. Unfortunately it didn't start until 9:00 and I arrived at 7:30. I ordered a burger and and sat at the bar with my book, The Brothers Karamazov, to try and feel out the place. Maybe I could play a bit before it officially starts and get out of there so I don't roll into Peoria too late.

But…

The bartender was a bigger, older guy with a huge beard and a brusque manner. Sitting with me at the bar was a group of middle aged guys, seemingly just off work and not yet ready to return home to their wife and kids. They were loud and talked about golf. There was also a table of blue collar 30-somethings talking avidly but in hushed tones. Shortly after I got my burger, a straight-from-work mother in a suit and her two of-age daughters sat down at the bar and ordered vodkas and campari.

I looked down the bar, around the rest of the room, I looked at the grizzled bartender. Nobody here wants to hear a damn thing I might have to say. And why should they? Why should I molest them with songs about living at home, violence in America, and 24 hour news networks. Who cares? And why do I want to subject them to my songs anyway? Why do I want to win the approval of a bunch of drunks in Edwardsville, IL? Really, why do I want to share this stuff with people… anywhere?

I don't know but I do. I didn't yesterday though. I thought about a girl. A girl who was 3 hours away who actually wanted to see me, wanted to hear me, wanted to kiss me. When I realized that, I left. Got in my car and drove. There'll be other open mics. Other rooms filled with (or more likely, empty of) disinterested people with more important things to worry about than a rudderless Southern California singer/songwriter. But, boy, did I recognize my luck last night. To have a girl excited to see you at the end of the road. And that I'm excited, dying to see. KV would kill me if I didn't acknowledge: "If this isn't nice, I don't know what is." 

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Tomorrow: AMERICADAY! And a bit of R&R in Peoria, IL.