Sun City Girls -- cover story of Seattle Weekly

er, i have.

I know, I know, but I always cringe a little when an article makes assumptions about its readers.

Oh, what a lovely thought.

"Tour dates for the Dave Matthews Band/Sun City Girls tour have been announced!"

Sneer, no. More just sort of don't quite get 'em. But I appreciate the comparison.

Sand the edges off that thought, and compare it to the real-life mid-90s concert package of Live/Thinking Fellers Union Local 202. The Thinking Fellers got bottled, it was horrible for them, but at the finish Live asked them out again.

!!!

I wonder if there is any meaning behind the following chain of events.
While dining on a crumby excuse for a salad bar at Shoneys in Des Moines, Steve Houghton & his children visit us. He knocks over a glass of root beer. His youngest daughter says akden...akden (accident).
Steve later tells us that it sucks in Des Moines.
Pondering his statement while we gas up in nearby Newton I become possesssed by the "why does everyone accept mediocrity" tweak. I sing: "It's not that hard to make things good" Mark adds "Quality is not unattainable" Gibbs (our soundman) is delighted with these nice/smarmily singsong sentiments and delivery and thinks its a perfect chorus.
As the gas station attendant is staring out his window at us while talking on the phone (to the cops?) Hugh and I are chanting "Beer, beer, beer is that way"
Five miles later the right rear tire blows out and we're stuck on a small left hand shoulder with semis roaring past. We gather all the tire changing implements only to realizeno one has the key for the small padlock which keeps the spare from being stolen. It's funny and not even very amazing. Jay manages to break the little padlock by jamming an extra-long screwdriver through and twisting. Yay, teamwork, ingenuity and a possible second career as a criminal.
Our jack is too small, however.
Jay and Mark set out to find a phone or a gas station, a ride, anything, while the rest of us smoke and add extra layers of clothing and jump around.
Jay and Mark return, having used a phone in the nearest house--the owner even gave them a ride back. We wait for nearly an hour for the tow truck, sometimes pacing, sometimes singing and dancing until a Highway Patroal man cruises up saying "Everybody's standing around not doing anything"
We assure him we were just waiting for the tow truck and he gruffly orders us to wait inside our van. Within 10 minutes another patrol car whips into the small space left in front of the van, cherries on. He's nicer. He says he stopped because he's looking for some young runaways. Could we have been reported by some car phone jockey? Hey--the Indians dance and we are just dancing for the tow truck!
We ask him if he could radio AAA after he wonders aloud why they haven't arrived since they're only 3 or 4 miles back that way.
10 more minutes, still 70 miles from Iowa City, running out of beer-purchase time.
AAA finally shows up and changes our tire. The spare is frighteningly lacking in air pressure. Ok, no problem. We'll stop at the first station, get air, call Jeff.
We exit I-80 at Grinnel, drive 3 miles into town past 3 closed gas stations. Hugh meanders through a grocery store parking lot, stops, goes in to see if anyone can point us towards a 24-hour station.
Ah, its a "Kum n Go"! Jay and Hugh manning the tire checking and not understanding each other until they both fear they've overfilled two tires. Discussion. Re-enter the store (after the initial bathroom visit) & buy a tire gauge. Turns out only measures up to 50psi while the van's tires are 65 psi. Amazing. The clerk tells Jay he should've read it before he bought it and with that missive completeed returns his money.
"So, that's Grinnel!" we say as we get the fuck out.
Oh, yes...and the loft is now completely jammed full of items.

4/24/95
Getting the feeling that driving all day everyday is a job I've done for years. Now on the 80/90 toll road in Indiana waiting for that small pleasure of seeing the time zone change marker. How many trips on this stretch now?
Hideous mundanity of service plazas is made more apparant in my mind while reflecting on our accidental 2-lane detour in Illinois where we drove through Andover pop. 600 and Cambridge pop. 2100. Old homes, real life.
I feel compelled to begin questioning these service plaza customers. "What do you think of this? Does it please you to see the same fast food chain and yogurt shoppee every 30 miles? Do you think about these convenience centers at all, and, if so, what? Is it a good idea? Do you ponder the psychological or psychic impact?"
I guess only 3% will even understand the question or believe it is relevent, important, worth being analyzed.

Day Off: Monday May 01, 1995. Rain rain rain rain rain rain rain. Drive drive drive drive drive drive rain rain rain rain rain rain rain.
Orange. Part of bad banana. Mediocre Mexican plate. Trail Mix. Bread. Cheese. Tomatoe. Strawberry. Raspberries. bad coffee. M&Ms. French Fries. Fish Sandwich. 2 bottles of Beer. Beavis & Butthead. Motel. boredom. sloth. Yellow mucous deep in lungs, coughing, mentruating violently.
1/2 of Bristol is in Virginia; 1/2 is in Tennessee. Surrounded by malls on the outskirts. Haven't changed clothes since yesterday. boredom. sloth. mucous.
Moritorium on discussing tour. Because it's the day off. I usually hate day's off. Crabby. Whiney. Can't stand sleeping in the same bed with anyone except Rick. Don't breathe on me. Don't accidentally touch me. You snore like a pig. You snore ON PURPOSE!
(Rick doesn't snore.) I almost always despise day's off.
Unless I can escape.
Much better to work.

5/3/95 Augusta GA Hotel
Gibbs is playing some extremely palatable (in a good way) guitar. It's late, I'm kind of drunk. I keep thinking it's a relief to hear him play. He's very good--it's the first time I've experienced him "jamming" like this.
Jay's having his nightly talk w/ Ray. The way he talks makes it seem like Ray is here in the room. Mark writes. Brian crams himself under the sink & listens to something on his walkman. Hugh continues to work on his crossword puzzles. I write it all down and miss my babe.

5/??/95
Charelston SC looked like West Oakland. Today we drove along Highway 78, passing through town after town made up of shack-like dwellings, beautiful decaying monster homes, noveau-riche white trash show houses and trailers. I felt homesick for Chico. Everyone has those green or white metal porch/lawn chairs.

5/??/95
I'm going to change my last name to Teedote.
Mark's new name: 54 Eggs.
They made me king today. I tried to explain to them that as far as I knew only men were kings. But they don't understand talking. I acquiesed.
There was no crown or scepter. Instead, as is apparantly their custom, a small army of cats was assigned to me. I think there are 27 cats, but some look identical and others occaisionally disappear except for their tails.
It's not too formal-looking, not like the cats are trailing me single file, or preceeding me in a perfect crest formation. No, its more organic than that. I hardly ever trip over one or step on one's tail. (I did a few times during the first couple days)
Its quite a mixture of feline personalities. The tamest cats usually stay nearby and are interested in being named. The wildest cats have made it clear that they don't want anyone to place a name upon them & additionally they would never deem to reveal their true names to me. But they are very loyal, nontheless. Oh, ALL cats have their own true animal names. it's just hard to tell with the tame ones. Some of them seem as if they'll gladly abandon their own names for the title I bestow upon them. Two cats are so dumb I bet they keep forgetting their true names.

5/??/95
Heading to Omaha, Nebwabska.
Alternatiing between feeling groggy, anxious, unhealthy and lustful. Lustfull just in general. Sets my controls to worldwide search for any real or imagined titilation. Meaningless, harmless (fairly), stupid. Could apply that restless energy to something productive. Ah, fuck: I've written that before.
Time for a new walkman.

After show writing:
Ed (from Live) brought his classic cruiser bike into the venue and people took turns riding it around inside the auditorium. it was a massive, multi-tiered concrete box, big enough for a circus or monster truck show.
During Paul Borge's [Pete Droge--my always confused mom refered to him as Paul Borge] sound check, Brian was walking the cordoned-off area's ramps and hallways playing viola along w/ thier cover of Run Through the Jungle and the rest of us were stupid-dancing out in the GA pit.
I wanted more than anything to have a turn on that bike.
Our set was difficult for me. I may've jinxed myself by scanning the crowd a half hour before we took the stage & thinking they looked really straight (just like in DC, but with a more redneck "hue") ha!
Sure enough, the guys on Brian's & my side of the stage were bullish pricks. Mark and Hugh faired a litle better. Sometimes I feel so self-contained and assured of my place in this circus that little fuckers flipping me off and braying "You suck! Get off the stage!" etc. seems hilarious or bounces right off and back into the mass of pirahana-like teens.
But that night I could feel the abuse trying to work its way under my skin. We did a short, fun and revengeful noise jam which freed my mind a bit because I knew it ticked 'em off even more. I split the stage and quickly helped move our gear towards the load out door, basically blowing off our 2 'shroom-loving punk friends from Kansas City (whom I'd put on the guest list).
At that point it was more important to return to myself.
In catering I asked Andy, Live's tour manager, if he ever turned his walkie talkie off.
"No, I CAN'T" he said, spilling his soup answering a call on the afore-mentioned device & running our of the room.
After dinner I asked Joel (management) if I could ride Ed's bike. He said of course.
(He and Andy and Kenny (management) all like me now because I both professionally and girl-ly warmly acknowledging powerful man-ly thanked them for being so accommodating in Davenport, IA for our "family night")
Bike. Release! Beauty, positivbe. cool red one-speed smoothly climbing up and racing down the ramps in the sectioned-off areas, around the empty hallways in the unused half-circle behind the stage. Security ignoring me on the bike because I have the plastic seal which places me above their jurisdiction.
WHOOO! Down through an underground extrance by a parking lot, back up the other side saying "BOOP!" echoing.
Elaine (from Pete Droge band) drew a TFUL282 picture and left it in our dressing room. We all chose to sit in the hallway outside our room, sprawled on the floor talking to Elaine and Pete while Live furthered the industy's cause.

5/??/95
Hit the full moon after 2 too-long days of driving wall. Don't know where I am, who I am. Dreampt about black funnel clouds touching down on either side of the freeway in some remote area. Therese, the accountant from my old job at the Mix Bookshelf, was driving the van and we had to go extremely fast.
What does THAT mean?
Nearly impossible to know how long we've been out, but htis unknowingness should be noted as a recurring psychic point reached on each tour--the point where I find it easy to imagine that is ALL my life ever was & that the supposed home and life I left doesn't really exist anymore.
Laboriously distracted, I think: 3 weeks, maybe 3 weeks.
I've been volitile for 2 days--the pathway to a shitty attitude is wide and open and smooth in my mind.

5/14/95
Driving through the Cascade Range. Snow on the peaks. The areas of WA state we've never seen until now are impressive. High desert sage-filled stark rolling hills into flat plains then fir-covered craggy massive peaks all in one hour.
Our set last night in Kennewick was explosive. We were definitly "on." A cohesive unit. I didn't give a flying fuck about the audience and they seemed to react possitively to that--funny!
Confidence poured into my blood stream (chi power, full moon, whiskey, lust, insanity) and exuded from my rolled-back eyeballs as I simultaneously flipped the audience off and displayed the heavy metal satan sign.

Later:

NO YES
*sick; bronchitis? *saw inside of bus
*we can't decide on anything *it was cool
*not cohesive enough
*too many agendas
*too hard
*got tired & forgot

Woohoo! It's the Yes article! :-)