The Tour Continues

We landed in Savannah and last night, Charleston. We got paid money for those gigs, about 300 dollars for each. Savannah was nice, but with the exception of Addie, I have a hard time communicating with people there. The past tours, both times at the breakfast table the morning after the show, I was silent. The girls and even the guys seem unreachable by conventional means, like they are faraway and I have to strain my voice and brain and expressions to make noises and interact. Nothing I say makes them laugh, even the go-to anecdotes that I recycle sometimes, the real quality ones. Nice people. Against my calls they're equipped with supernatural ear muffs. And I'm not talking about flirting. Just typical speech. Everything else is great though. The tree limbs are hung with green ornaments, long drab green moss; the trees have scarves on them and they hang into the street and you can touch them as you walk underneath. The people dance at our shows; they support us, provide us with good beer and good accommodations. All any band could ask for. But speaking for myself - still, there remains a devil between us.



 My recent bed time habits might have something to do with a pocketed away, dangerous loneliness. In regards to v day, Brett expressed a weak disappointment with his current circumstances - like when I mentioned I had forgotten that we were playing that very hallowed day he said "fuck that, depressing," but with no force. He presented the words with an effort close to a sigh. I countered. I said I was glad some fattened bitch wasn't at my throat, Marshall! Get me some flowers and some chocolates with little nuts in the center! I'm mean and getting fatter - - - some strawberry flavored ones!  

As the night wore on and I reflect on my behavior today, the bed ritual makes sense. I hit on some girl the entire band had already taken some sort of pass at. She was really friendly, a friend of a friend. And she was already with someone. I persevered. Shameful actions - ruinous, offensive, and senseless behavior, all because a void in my brain wants my arms to encircle something soft that loves me; a hole dwells there between my two hands and shoulders, cavernous. Likewise, in my brain a sink hole continues to widen. Just now, it became apparent to me why I do it. I can't go to sleep in my own bed without an extra pillow to hold onto. I must have one to doze off. I must. No need to explain that symbol. It rings true and my hypothesis has been drafted and the tour continues, miles of driving.