Returning, Short tour thoughts

Aww, I sincerely don't want to write anything but I guess I should. Maybe that will make me less nervous. In Fort Worth, I felt as if I were still moving somewhere. Things like doors and trees seemed too close, packed in, snug together and overly fragrant. I got drunk with my friend Tommy and we bowled; I did horribly and hit the inside of my ankle with my ball. Now, there is a large bruise there. It didn't hurt at the time. We played laser tag. The ref cheated, artificially boosting the other teams score because Tommy pushed him down during the game. Apparently, the referee was "all up in his shit." I understood. The ref was the type that would step into shit, be it yours or a random one on the sidewalk; the type of guy who's life was one big mistake, like he was stepping onto the sidewalk at the break of a beautiful morning and landed right in a huge pile and never got over it. I had the ruling overturned, citing the unusually high score that caused our loss. Besides the lying, dirty, cheating official, I scored the highest that game. The second game, my gun didn't work correctly, but we won anyway. 

I expected the pillows here in Austin to pull like magnets but no such comfort has greeted me. I ate a lot of food before I left, some pizza and a milkshake. I had trouble keeping awake on the drive down. I felt the true and lingering weight of the tour and all the girls on my face and all the accumulation swinging like a lead ball in my stomach. So, naturally I was in a terrible mood and was horrified when I returned home to a house full of people. I would be glad to see them regularly but I guess I'm just an old grouch. Still, I expect things, and by things I mean everything in the immediate vicinity, judging by time - to be fine. The tour was awesome. People ask for crazy things that happened and I tell them that if anything truly crazy had happened, I would most likely be in jail right now, not back in the dull heat of fat, normal life. 

There is a difference between a band and a touring band. One, I respect. The other, any collection of face and hands can muster. On our last stop, we serendipitously met with a band we will most likely play along side in L.A. in about a month or so. They'd been doing the exact same thing, the touring, the rough shit, for way longer than us. It was like coming across an old friend, but without any weirdness in adjusting to the new in them. Just sudden understanding. Good men, touring so long they looked like vampires. You could never imagine them playing tennis in shorts on a summer day. The toughness wasn't in the skin. 

You gotta realize that you are gonna be doing this for a long time. And that's a sweet thing. Because it's fucking fun, rough and sad. That's pretty much it. Worth it, worth it, worth it.