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.