Live Long and Prospero
Being Chapter the 17th of the 2010 SXSW Haiku & BBQ Tour..a novella
Saturday, March 27th
Today we finally get to see our kind Southern California host, the fabulously cool Lynn, which pleases us to no end. She seems genuinely happy about the Star Trek flask--she didn't have one yet! HAH! Excellent! We done good. She and Andrew do a bit of catching up, we all make sure to grab a shower, and then, sadly, we must take our leave.
We drive north. It is an absurdly pretty day. The golden state. They aren't joking. We thread through Malibu, and up up the coast past Santa Barbara. Man. The breakers roll in, the water is a profound indigo, the hills roll up and down and around decorated with luscious curly greenery. We've been to lots of exciting new places, but the California coast, well, it sure is a pleasure to travel here. Except--uh, are we out of gas? The next town? Sixty miles. Uh oh. Will we indeed run out of fuel and get stranded? Shipwrecked, as it were, here on this little isle of a truck, in the wilderness with visitations from strange phantoms sent by an old wise wily wizard named Prospero who's pissed off at his brother, due to court-related intrigues...no wait, that's the plot of The Tempest.
Our nailbiter comes to an end right when the final few wisps of fumes exit the carburetor. Phew. We're here--a town with a gas station. That was close. Gary and Andrew celebrate with some fast food sandwiches, but I opt for some Lara bars. For now...
It now appears we underestimated the time it will take to get to our venue in San Luis Obispo. So, when we arrive, we pretty much have time to set up, say hey to our friends (one of whom is Andrew's very first girlfriend from high school!), and start playing. I hastily down another protein bar and the bartender plies me with some enchanting hazelnutty beer. Well, ok, that's breakfast and lunch right there.
We launch into an epic set--the only really long show of the whole tour. It's really nice to stretch out and play some older tunes, such as: "All of the Atoms Strung Together", or somewhat current ones we've neglected as of late, like, "Girls Just Break Your Heart", and the brand new: "Obvious Solutions", and so on. But even an hour and a half set goes by like a blur, somehow, and once again we are hauling our gear back into the truck.
Now I am ready to eat a whole porpoise, so we ask for some dining suggestions from the doorman at our venue. He sends us to a pizzeria a few blocks away. It is perfectly adequate, but I can predict that I will be eating a mighty mighty big breakfast tomorrow in San Francisco. For we have decided to drive all the way back to San Francisco (even though it's four hours) rather than spend another night on the road. Andrew is looking kind of blurry and dazed so Gary takes the first shift at the wheel.
Two hours later, we make our last pit stop of the tour where Andrew buys yet another Rockstar to guzzle and thus fuel this last leg. At this point I'm beyond putting two syllable together and I drift in and out of oblivion, my face mashed into my pillow. And then it really happens. Really really. We are in San Francisco. It is 3:15 am. We wearily unload my stuff into my place. Then the guys speed off into the night.
I pour a glass of revivifying sparkiling water...yum. And, ooh, there's bacon in the fridge. Bless you Sarah! Tomorrow: breakfast = me eating bacon. But it's four a.m. and I have to be at soundcheck for our "Syllable" Video Premier (and HAPPY BIRTHDAY GARY & welcome home) show at Bottom of the Hill in 12 hours.
Waves beat at the door
The past's already prologue
To another show
Saturday, March 27th
Today we finally get to see our kind Southern California host, the fabulously cool Lynn, which pleases us to no end. She seems genuinely happy about the Star Trek flask--she didn't have one yet! HAH! Excellent! We done good. She and Andrew do a bit of catching up, we all make sure to grab a shower, and then, sadly, we must take our leave.
We drive north. It is an absurdly pretty day. The golden state. They aren't joking. We thread through Malibu, and up up the coast past Santa Barbara. Man. The breakers roll in, the water is a profound indigo, the hills roll up and down and around decorated with luscious curly greenery. We've been to lots of exciting new places, but the California coast, well, it sure is a pleasure to travel here. Except--uh, are we out of gas? The next town? Sixty miles. Uh oh. Will we indeed run out of fuel and get stranded? Shipwrecked, as it were, here on this little isle of a truck, in the wilderness with visitations from strange phantoms sent by an old wise wily wizard named Prospero who's pissed off at his brother, due to court-related intrigues...no wait, that's the plot of The Tempest.
Our nailbiter comes to an end right when the final few wisps of fumes exit the carburetor. Phew. We're here--a town with a gas station. That was close. Gary and Andrew celebrate with some fast food sandwiches, but I opt for some Lara bars. For now...
It now appears we underestimated the time it will take to get to our venue in San Luis Obispo. So, when we arrive, we pretty much have time to set up, say hey to our friends (one of whom is Andrew's very first girlfriend from high school!), and start playing. I hastily down another protein bar and the bartender plies me with some enchanting hazelnutty beer. Well, ok, that's breakfast and lunch right there.
We launch into an epic set--the only really long show of the whole tour. It's really nice to stretch out and play some older tunes, such as: "All of the Atoms Strung Together", or somewhat current ones we've neglected as of late, like, "Girls Just Break Your Heart", and the brand new: "Obvious Solutions", and so on. But even an hour and a half set goes by like a blur, somehow, and once again we are hauling our gear back into the truck.
Now I am ready to eat a whole porpoise, so we ask for some dining suggestions from the doorman at our venue. He sends us to a pizzeria a few blocks away. It is perfectly adequate, but I can predict that I will be eating a mighty mighty big breakfast tomorrow in San Francisco. For we have decided to drive all the way back to San Francisco (even though it's four hours) rather than spend another night on the road. Andrew is looking kind of blurry and dazed so Gary takes the first shift at the wheel.
Two hours later, we make our last pit stop of the tour where Andrew buys yet another Rockstar to guzzle and thus fuel this last leg. At this point I'm beyond putting two syllable together and I drift in and out of oblivion, my face mashed into my pillow. And then it really happens. Really really. We are in San Francisco. It is 3:15 am. We wearily unload my stuff into my place. Then the guys speed off into the night.
I pour a glass of revivifying sparkiling water...yum. And, ooh, there's bacon in the fridge. Bless you Sarah! Tomorrow: breakfast = me eating bacon. But it's four a.m. and I have to be at soundcheck for our "Syllable" Video Premier (and HAPPY BIRTHDAY GARY & welcome home) show at Bottom of the Hill in 12 hours.
Waves beat at the door
The past's already prologue
To another show
posted by Margrit | 8:27 AM
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