Excalibur did it--from North Dakota to the Mississippi River and back again. Sadly, his electric front passenger-side window took a hit; it rolled down never to rise. Cats in Decorah, Winona, Rochester, Fargo, and points along the way have without doubt explored Excalibur's interior each night.
After Thursday's show in Waconia, I drove my friend Brandon to Minneapolis. I stayed in his apartment, which was filled with noise, kitty urine, and cigarette smoke. I slept three hours, got up, walked along the Mississippi, did a radio interview, and cruised south to Iowa.
The house show in Decorah, Iowa, was filled with friendly, enthusiastic people. It took me some time to focus, because of the jittery state I was in from the drive, but it turned out to be a memorable and fun show. I stayed at the home of my sweet friends' Benji & Aryn.
Saturday I drove north to the Down 'N Dirty Bike Club Basement in Winona, MN. The venue could be described as a purple-carpeted dungeon filled with angelic beer-brewing Huckleberry Finns and Pippy Longstockings. Good times there, as always.
After that, my troubadour pal Mike Byrd and I zoomed east to Rochester, MN, for the evening's second show, at our pal Derrick's house. A brown school bus of inebriated Winopunx (friends all) followed in our wake. This second show was about as unorganized as it gets, but not without its maniacal charms. The Rochester punks will not be forgotten. Alcoholism and raw fury ruled the basement for five hours. As if to drive the point home, somebody stepped on my cherished Casio keyboard and cracked it. Finally, around 3 a.m., I had an opportunity to sing. The crowd had moved outside by then, into Derrick's yard. Mike and I took turns crooning next to a campfire and beneath the stars. By that time I was beyond exhausted, but laying back, gazing at the stars, and listening to Mike's folk songs at 4 a.m. was sublime.
3 comments:
The cassio... is she dead? Cracked doesn't mean done does it? YIKES!
It still works but a couple keys are mangled. No worries, though. I have a back-up.
dear sandman,
this is meg from derek's house. i was just thinking about you and how kind you were the night i met you and i realised how stupid that night was. everyone was incredibly too drunk to give you a chance and although i know it's probably farfetched and silly to ask you this, i really hope that sometime soon you'll come back 'round these parts and let all the people who actually want to hear you play your tunes hear it. 'til then, guess i'll see you 'round.
much love and ultimate peace,
miss marguerite.
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