15 hours in the car. I left at 8:00 AM Chicago time. I got to Denver a little after 10:00 Mountain Man Time. The drive wasn't the worst I've done (TEXAS! he screams shaking his fist) but it wasn't easy either. I spent the time listening to Keith Richards, trimming the longer hairs off my face, listening to Comeback Kid, texting (I know this is illegal and dangerous not to mention stupid but I was booooored), and listening to WTF and Comedy Bang Bang and Paul F. Tompkins. He's really funny. Much funnier than whatever it was I was trying to do last night.
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Iowa is gorgeous. Rolling green fields and absolutely beautiful farm houses. Sure some of them looked to be in disarray but that didn't diminish their beauty in my eyes.
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An image sticks out to me of a gaggle of bros pulled off to the side of the interstate, all peering quizzically into the hood of their car, scratching their heads. One of them stumbles around, phone raised towards the heavens, searching in the sky for God, signal, anything, something.
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The open mic at the Meadowlark in Denver was a boy's club. I don't mean that in the sense that it was comprised entirely of males but that it felt a little unwelcoming to outsiders. I will admit that at this point I had just driven 15 hours, I was wearing a farmer's hat and probably looked like hell. Maybe my appearance was unwelcoming. Maybe I AM unwelcoming.
The acts were good, though easily pidgin-holed: (am I getting bitter?) A Glen Hansard-type from Scotland may have been my favorite. Strong, powerful voice and good folk-pop ditties; a guy who made extensive use of a loop pedal, who also referred to himself as "The Wolf"; a guy and gal (father and daughter?) 1920's jazz-pop combo. The daughter sang really low and nervously. The father did some very show-off-y stuff on the keys so good for him.
I went on last. The guy before me ended his set but breaking a string and just walking off stage and right out of the bar. The place had emptied out. The people running it were hanging out in the back drinking so I just set up my own mic and guitar. There were a few couples on dates sitting at the bar. There was a group of people who recently moved to Denver who stood up and watched me and danced drunkenly to my Frank Ocean cover. They were very supportive but also very drunk. I'll take it where I can get it, I guess.
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I try and keep my conversation on stage to a minimum. I want to talk about Ghost Island and how my friends and I are trying to set up a recording oasis down on the Colorado river, but I also know that nobody cares. Whenever I open up my mouth between songs my brain starts yelling at me: "NOBODY'S LISTENING! NOBODY CARES! NOBODY'S LISTENING! NOBODY CARES!" It gets louder and louder until I finally shut up and play a song.
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Denver is cool. I almost turned into oncoming traffic this morning because I didn't realize that EVERY STREET IS A ONE-WAY. Also, this coffee shop doesn't have wifi (huh?) so I won't be posting this until later today.
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I'm staying with friend of a friend, Kevin Ripley, and his brother, Brian, who I know through my dear bud, Matt Schley. (He's in Japan right now and taking some amazing photos on his instagram: Mosk_) Kevin welcomed me into his place with open arms, King of The Hill on Netflix and a homebrew Hefeweizen. Kevin has been homebrewing for a while and won a competition recently and will be making his first commercial brew with Scott Brewing Co. later this month. The guy knows his stuff. Between the beer and the conversation I forgot about how tired I was from the drive and how disappointed I was with the open mic that night. Beer: It makes the pain go away.
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I called my aunt in Salt Lake City to let her know I was going to be getting in tomorrow in the evening. She invited me to stay for more than a couple of days but I politely declined. "I've been driving too much. And I'm homesick," I told her.
"Homesick? For Blythe? No. There must be a girl there."
I love my SLC family. I texted Ariel later in the night, "It's hard to be on the road when you have an Ariel at home."
Am I cut out for the road? Am I cut out for anything? Do I have to cut it all up myself?
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Tomorrow: I cut through the Rockies and rest with family in Salt Lake City, UT. Mo-Town U.S.A.
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