Woke up in Texas for the first time in over thirty days. Now we're barreling down west texas highways set to arrive home in Austin for a night off before the final performances of our full US tour.
We tried to calculate precisely how far we've driven in the last month and we decided it's somewhere just over 10,000 miles. Through the deep south, up along the east coast, through Philly, NYC, Boston, and Buffalo. Trekked across Ohio, Iowa, Indiana, and the midwest. Cut down to Denver, then back up to Wyoming. Up to Vancouver, Canada, and down the west coast.
We performed in 23 states. And come monday, we'll have played 31 nearly consecutive shows. The record release show kicked off the tour on Sept. 28, and since then we've had eight days off--most of them in the second half of the tour and all of which we've spent driving.
How do I feel?
tired.
If I were one with numbers, I'd do some sort of equation to figure out what percentage of our time on the road we spend playing music. It's but a tiny sliver in the pie! Of the waking up just before check out time, eating breakfast, driving, stopping for some kind of minimal and likely gross lunch, and driving, driving, driving, you really spend all day just trying to get to the venue and set up. If I'm lucky and feeling up to it, I'll have 15 minutes to myself to warm up before running through a few songs at soundcheck and an hour performance.
But despite all of that, despite how I half complain about the bizarre quality of this mode of operation, I love it. This may have been the most fun I've ever had on tour. I'm not certain that I'm excited about coming home. My whole summer has been leading to this tour, this trip, this escape from a city and a state that's been the site of some difficult feelings. I spent good chunks of the summer running. This tour perpetuated that. And I'm not ready to stop.
There's always this anticipation when I leave home that I'll come back even just a little bit different. There is something about distance thats relieving and refreshing, and oddly empowering, knowing I've walked the streets of cities across the expanse of this great America. It makes me want to live everywhere. To be more. To do more. To do everything. Friends have moved Friends are gettin hitched. Family feels sparse and far. And I am on my own. I'm not sure what I'm coming home to, or what I'm coming home for, I suppose. Thats the source of this impulse to keep following the dotted highway lines to anywhere. The next venue. The next home. The next mountain range. The next community of artists trying to get by. The next anything. The next adventure.
