I'm typing with my thumbs in the back seat of the van as we are making our best speed back to Austin and home. Rob Hooper is at the wheel (or rather "The Laser" as he maintains we should call him) with Ian Pierce riding shotgun. From time to time the GPS system will make some comment in her English accent and both Rob and Ian will scream "You're drunk!" at the top of their lungs. Time and experience has taught us not to trust the GPS.
Willy Landin sleeps in the middle bench seat, a dusting of sandwich crumbs on his chest. We are all exhausted, and ready to go home and get laid.
A great tour, the East showing herself off, wrapped in her most seductive weather, our friends back in Texas responding to our stories of New England sweater summers with naked hate.
A few highlights... FitzGerald's American Music Fest in Chicago where I got to play with John Mooney, who has been a musical hero of mine for years. The Rabbit Hash General Store playing on the banks of the Ohio on a trailer bed lit with suspended hook lights while barges sailed on by behind us and drinking the local moonshine. Pete's Candy Store in Williamsburg where the stage was an art deco subway car, breakfast in NYC at Mud, my favorite place to start a day. Prowling through a tiny poetry bookstore just off the Harvard campus. And always seeing you, America. You are epic, you contain multitudes, you never disappoint.