Roosters woke us up today. I'm almost certain I'm a Lost Boy, this is Neverland, and that I'll wake up sometime to discover that I'm still in my bedroom surrounded by beer cans and boxes of Cheez-Its. Absurd is the most apt word for our whole tour experience. The morning was spent exploring the area surrounding Tonya's compound, picking fruit from trees and playing fetch with a blind dog that followed his ball by sound alone. The dudes practiced on the patio amidst foraging goats and the sound of chickens and cats. Experiencing things like this really make the fleeting aspect of tour something that becomes difficult, when attachment is essentially impossible and you have to enjoy things like this as a single moment. You want to hang on to all these people and places for as long as possible, knowing that they will shortly be nothing but memories. When routine and habit are something that most of us rely on for stability, it's a strange experience to be deprived of that rhythm. But I suppose that's the beauty of the road trip, and and why we need so long to recuperate from one. In any case, saying goodbye feels like the end of something great.
So alas, we parted with our beautiful hosts, and drove to Davis, CA, where the dudes were slated for an in-store performance before their show. That experience was really anchored by Bill's performance of the Demon Song. Upon meeting Bill and hearing his songs one might assume that this jolly and good-natured individual fostered no ill will towards humanity as a greater whole. He is the funniest dude I've ever met and has a general empathy that instantly endears him to everyone. Yet perhaps there is more to the man, for along with lyrics like "I want to love as hard as I can," come "I want to go to hell and suck the devil's dick." Could this kind-hearted individual actually be a hedonistic Satan-worshipper? You be the judge.
The main event was a s show at Sophia's Thai Kitchen, put on a fellow who's name I can't recall but he had an announcer's voice that could rival Michael Buffer's (Leeeeeeeet's get ready to RUUUUUUUMBLE!). The set was dynamite A+ number one super, and the audience was once again cursed by another rendition of the Demon Song. Following the show a swirling vortex ascended from the bowels of hell and consumed our souls, until Michael Jackson's brilliant jams rescued us during the '90s dance party that followed.
We camped in this dude's (I've got to take better notes) backyard, and Sumner broke his swing, which apparently was a wedding present. We booked it the next morning. Sorry dude! But when hosting such notoriously debaucherous hooligans as ourselves, one must expect the worse.
Photo courtesy of Congratulations/Old Believers