Roadkill everywhere on I-10 W to Marfa. CCR playing.
The other day we played in Austin at Club 1808, which is right in the middle of crack central. (*At least no one tried to sell us pants again.) We played with some cool bands and got very drunk. That night Fat Tony's homie Arturo, who lives in Austin, came to get us blunted. Then the next day he took us to what may be one of the my favorite swim spots I've been to in the whole country. We had to go to an apartment complex, find a place to park, hop a fence and dodge poison ivy to get to it. But it was so worth it. There was no one there. There was a huge tree with a ladder built into it with a rope swing; Chris did some funny things with that rope. Brian jumped off the canopy of the tree; we thought he was gonna die for sure. We drank a couple beers and before you could say "light that shit," the cops came walking out of the woods. Chris threw the weed in his hand onto the ground, I left my tighty whites on a tree and they escorted us to our car. They looked at everyone's IDs, asked if we were in high school, told us we couldn't park here, offered us legal swimming options and let us go. Then we went to a very impressive burger spot that Arturo took us to. He gave us a little green and took off into the sun; totally hittin' up that dude next time we're in Austin. For sure.
Then later that night we did San Antonio, home of the Alamo and ridiculously delicious burritos. We played a show at Salute's, a bar in San Antonio where world famous accordionist Estaban Jordan played every Friday up until his death not too long ago. There's a shrine for him in the back of the bar. Surprisingly, the bands we played with were really good. Earthcrumbz, one Latina psych singer with a drum machine; Sexbomb Baby, two dudes with a guitar and keyboard/drum machine—they were super heavy. But the band that played before us, Wunderland, was the highlight. Two tiny skinny girls in their panties playing bass with deeply noised out and aggressive beats. They were thrashing into everyone in the bar, playing little marching drums, dry humping Kyle, trying to tackle me, throwing empty pinatas all over the bar. Sick. Also Puddle of Mudd showed up at the bar in a huge tour bus. They bought me a beer before we played. Awesome. They parked next to Hardbodies, the male strip club, thinking it was "chicks with tits" but apparently it was "dudes with dicks and Blue Oyster Cult." I hung out with the roadies in front of their bus. Then the Wunderland girls walked out of the bus and told me they thought it was White Fang's bus, not PoM's bus. So good. We also bought a "ganja" brownie from a rasta called Boombastic.
All in all, San Antonio was a tour classic. Special thanks to Ricardo Briones for setting up the show.
Now we head to a spot everyone keeps saying is a magical place, a tiny town with no police and a bunch of art shit. Jumping tarantulas too, they say. Where the mysterious Mystery Lights dance in the desert. The land of Marfa, TX located in the Chihuhan Desert.
That'll be our last show in Texas. We're on the home stretch now!
* In Houston, while eating Whattaburger with Fat Tony in a parking lot at 3 am, a dude tried to sell us a bag of pants for $10 USD. We declined. He came back a minute later and offered the bag for $7, to which we declined. Not another minute comes by before he offers us the bag of pants for $2. We tell him no. He says "c'mon man, 50 cents! And I'll go back to my place and roll yall a joint." I told him I didn't believe that he would do that, to which he replied "if you don't believe me... you can suck my dick." Everyone laughed; I got got by that fool.