Lander
Heading out Southwest on highway 28 towards the 80 ain’t a bad way to start out a Friday morning. Hank III is pumping out of the speakers, and Jeff is in the driver’s seat. Pam’s got her nose in a book, and I’m enjoying being the passenger. Gives me a chance to catch up on some reading and organize my thoughts.
I’ve been reading this book that I highly recommend, “George The Painter – A Bathroom Reader 2006-2010”. It’s a collection of his articles that have been published in The Horse. A biker magazine made for folks who ride their bikes.
Lemme just say that George Frizzell Jr. titled his book all wrong. It’s not a bathroom reader, it’s a road guide. If you’re sitting on the shitter while reading it, and aren’t the least bit pissed off that you’re not on the highway, than you probably suck. That’s just my opinion. The more I read, the more I’m really lookin’ forward to meetin’ the asshole in person come ‘round May 11th when we hit Choppertown Campground. We’ve spoke on the phone a few times, and I hope we’ll have some time to share a patch of dirt and enjoy the roar of bikes. I haven’t been around a group of real bikers since I was a little girl. My husband is a lead tech at a Harley Boutique, and because I love him, I’ll keep it to myself what I really think of the place and most of its clientele. I’m glad he’s happy wrenching on bikes and any place is as good as any. I grew up around real bikers though, and while I don’t ride myself, my tattoos tell the story of my life. I picked that up from the culture. There ain’t a patch of ink on my body that came from flash of the week, and if that day ever comes…you better fuckin’ believe there will be a good story to go with it, and not because I thought it would look cool and impress my friends.
Anyway…we are en route to Las Vegas. We’re gonna be playing a show tomorrow at one of my favorite venues…cleverly called Favorites. I’m looking forward to getting’ weird and having some fun with the folks I hung out with when I rolled through last June when I was still in the punk band, SHiT. Might even catch some tail, who knows…it’s Vegas, and even though I’m not a big fan of the city, it’s still tour and anything goes.
Right now, I’m enjoying watching the seasons change as we leave the snowy hills of Lander, WY behind and head towards the desert. Lander was amazing. The path to get there took us through Jackson Hole, where I saw the coolest archway made out of antlers. Of course we stopped for some tourist shots. I call these Triceratops, so for those of you paying attention and following the tour diary, a triceratops is anything that we must stop at so we can do the obligatory tourist pics, plus I gotta feed my need of raping/molesting/humping inanimate objects just because I can.
To get to Lander, we had to go over an icy pass. At one point, I realized I must’ve been fucking stupid or something like it because around 1:30am, I was the only vehicle rolling over 2 inches of sparkly. I took it at 20-30mph, kept constant momentum, and cracked jokes about sliding over the edge into the black unknown. Pam didn’t find it very funny, so after a while I stopped, but I still think some donuts would’ve been fun. The way I see it, when it’s time to go, I won’t have much of a say over it. Death doesn’t really frighten me. Not to say I should take a shit ton of ridiculous unnecessary risks to test this theory, but the only reason I didn’t do donuts on the pass was because this van still needs to get us to the East Coast, and I won’t risk the tour for something that stupid…had it been just me in the pickup though…well I wouldn’t have been on the hill in the first place. Steve says fuck you to small hills caked in ice. But the B210…we had some fun a few times.
I keep straying so far off topic…Lander. I drove there to play for 1 fan, his family, and a small handful of their friends. Honestly, I really I feel bad calling him a fan; he’s a friend that feels more like family now. It’s been a long time since I felt so welcomed in someone’s home who was a total stranger to begin with. I spent the last couple of days surrounded by love, art, and music. Can’t really have a bad time when those are your surroundings. Yesterday morning was spent sharing good conversation with an older version of myself. Nancy, Patrick’s mom, is an amazing woman. We are so much alike, that I feel pretty excited about hitting my 40’s and 50’s. I helped her feed the horses in the morning and we shared so many laughs and tears that I felt like I had been there a lifetime by the time we left today. I now have a home in Wyoming, and I look forward to a return trip one day in the future.
I really live for the house shows, the intimate settings where your fans quickly turn to friends. I’ve said it before, but after traveling around with the metal scene and punk scene, I really prefer the Joni Mitchell approach to livin’ a life of music. I think it’s a hell of a lot more rewarding, the relationships are richer, and when you’re secure in yourself and your abilities, you really don’t need the roar of the crowd to feel successful. Not that I would turn down the opportunity to play for a huge audience, but I hope when that day comes, it’s full of smiling faces that I was able to meet face to face at one point in my life and not a bunch of jackoffs hanging out just because they think my name on a billboard makes me special.
I fucking love my life, I love my tour mates, and I’m looking forward to seeing more of what lies ahead.