We Might Need to Start Thinking

About seeking employment in Raphine, Virginia, where we are without a doubt, no joke, no kidding about it: stranded. Virginia is a shadowy realm, a twilight zone, terra icognita.

I don't usual write titles that complete themselves in the text, but as I am in a place, both physically and metaphysically, that I have never been before, the most unexpected and preternatural of actions seemed logical.
In fact, I rarely write sentences like that one.
I am shocked and luck is a real thing.

I know a lot of you have been keeping up with the twitter's and such, but I'll fill you in officially on the time line of horribleness:

August 1 - Trailer tire blows out on a highway at 3:30 in the morning



August 2 - Trailer is totaled by drunk driver outside of Travis's house
August 4 - On the road to Nashville, back outside tire of RV blows out.
- Having reached Nashville, the other back, outside tire begins leaking air.
- By the end of the night, the tire is flat.




August 9 - Back, inside tire blows out, causing a hidden oil leak.
- Engine completely breaks down in Raphine, VA





Funny, the time line doesn't appear that substantial. At least there is no entry reading "Marshall breaks left arm" "Matt get's arrested for PI" "Brett is missing"

I used to think about this poem when times were bad. I'd walk out of my house and think, at least my car is still there. Or, I should be grateful I was not attacked in my home last night by a psychopath with a knife. Now, the poem carries a bit too much irony. Maybe, in that way, the piece will remain special for years to come.

Show Biz

I can't have it
and you can't have it
and we won't
get it

so don't bet on it
or even think about
it

just get out of bed
each morning

wash
shave
clothe
yourself
and go out into
it

because
outside of that
all that's left is
suicide and
madness

so you just
can't
expect too much

you can't even
expect

so what you do
is
work from a modest
minimal
base

like when you
walk outside
be glad your car
might possibly
be there

and if it is-
that the tires
aren't
flat

then you get
in
and if it
starts--you
start.

and
it's the damndest
movie
you've ever
seen
because
you're
in it--




Gone for now, we are still searching for ways to get back. Currently, we are marooned here. But I read in the town newspaper that a dance is going on tonight at the local dance hall. I still have one clean suit left and ten dollars. I know there have got to be some pretty girls.

Wednesday, August 5th, Morning

Very early wake up today. It's still raining from the night before. We played a great show in Nashville, but sadly we've sprung yet another flat tire. The nearest tire joint is about five miles. The trip should be relatively simple.

Last night a little piece of hell broke loose in the sky outside of Nashville. Boy, what a storm. I did notice a few things, though. When moving into a driving rain, the drops become clearly defined at the last second and they look like a hundred or a thousand stars passing by. Also, in the thickest of it, I saw a strange thing. I could make out, just for a second, an object on the road as we drove over it. There was a little toad there, amidst the cars and trucks and howling rain, a toad hopping across the road. The toad appeared to be an albino one. Or maybe its dark, bumpy skin bleached out in the presence of the RV's white lights.

First Day of Tour, August 4th

The RV is ready to go. We are packing the stuff straight into the inside, rather than using the trailer. This makes the RV top heavy, like a christmas tree swaying back and forth, stuffed! We were supposed to leave yesterday, but we had no place to stay. We opted to drive the ten hours today and play the show later tonight. This is no worry, everyone gets their second wind.

Matt and I watched The Hurt Locker last night. The film was intense. Matt experienced some sure fire symptoms of cathartic release, happiness in the shadow of maimed bodies, ultra-low frequency explosions and humming and hard-nosed soldiery. A row of upper-crust, hamster faced fraternities sat four abreast the row in front of us. I heard a few scattered shouts of towel-head and I just want to see some towel-head's get killed! Thanks, Tim and John and Tony and Mark. You're heroes, some real class acts. Matt said, They must have gained a little bit of perspective after seeing that film.

Sadly, no. Their driving, too, lacked the subtlety of an informed political opinion. We smoked their Mustang in a pure route. It was too easy. The STI tore into the gravel and sped away. That was sweet. So sweet. I just know one of the less fortunate of the bunch will grow up to be a police officer. Surely, we will meet again.

The road unfolds ahead, as surely as we expected the road to unfold. With every mile conquered, the road itself is catalogued into a memory type substance. Every mile of track is spooled into a fruit roll up of pavement travel, the forward movement essentially pushes more layers onto the outside of the fruit roll up. Don't know if you get quite what image I'm trying for. You get it. Nashville tonight. The basement. Nice girls, last time we visited. Hope for more of the same.

Updates, EP sampler Progress

We are working really hard to finish up our new material. The stuff is turning out really great. This stuff is irreverent, cocky, and completely without pretention. I worked on some lyrics for "You Should Start a Band" (working title). We call out rappers, indieophiles, and smokers that hold cigarettes like they are fucking trophies. If you heard "Burning Panties" at out show in Ft. Worth, you're already excited about that one.

Truly, fame awaits the weary and the persistent and the confident.

Travis & Marshall are Native Americans

Did I mention that Marshall and Travis are registered members of the Choctaw nation?
Among other perks (affirmative action, casinos, cool Indian names) Trav got this swell birthday card. Neat, huh?

Invest in our record.

Hey earthlings,
I'll be telling you guys A LOT more about this amazing program we've designed later. (I'm tired!) But check this out. And BE sure to read the "About the band" page. It's pretty cool.

-Brett

A Reason to take a look below at the DONATION DRIVE

I am getting poned by some serious noobs right now. I'm sweating all over. It's this entire group, all at the gaming center together, all having fun. I resent that because even the girl with them has killed me two times in a row. I'm cursing and everything. And when I leave and they are congregated outside, I won't say a nice word or anything. A pretty shit life I lead. But not if you participate in the donation drive!

See if this album doesn't get made, if TFB doesn't ultimately triumph, my life could look like forty years of this.

A Bit of Media, Moon Media

One of many Terrible RV experiences

I always thought that the problem rested in the rusted bowels of our own Tioga Montara. The truth is, RV's break down. All of them do. That's what the RV is designed for, to shit out on you in the middle of camelfucking nowhere. Even the ones passing by on the highway that look like spaceships, the ones kept clean, those with shiny wheels. You end up passing them three hours later. The Tioga is not one of the nice specimens. I think it was made in 1987, a date that corresponds to my birth, funny enough. Our worst shit out came on the tail end of our East Coast Tour. We were almost home and the noises started. Well, we took a couple of pictures. The first one, here, is Travis beside the Tioga in a Pep Boys parking lot. Our thinking ran like this: If we park right in front of the place, they'll be more likely to help us get the thing running. It worked.



The mechanic that fixed us up. Nice guy. And he wasn't weirded out that I wanted a picture.

Experimental Artwork #2: Bunny Hat

Starring unknown man, Allie, Alyssa, Max, and I. Special thanks to Brian for photography.



Further consideration- is this really a bunny hat? Which animal is it? A free album for the best comment.

New Old Instrument: The Autoharp

Dear Earthlings,

In case you didn't know, I'm sort of an instrument addict. Check out my new old Omnichord. Craigslist baby!

-B

Well, TFB is going on a new tour in two weeks so...

TOUR MEMORIES.

Travis on the New York Skyline shortly after our 5:30 a.m. arrival



Matt on the Philly Skyline



M Galactic (myself) towing beer for Space Party 3 NY, New York



The Frontier Brothers in Charleston, SC.

The Frontier Brothers, Driving - March and April Tour

I think we're all smiling because these photos were taken at the beginning of the tour

Second and third runner-up, best hair

Even Marshall Galactic opted for a business minor

And so I-he have been busy crunching up the numbers, up and down and across the page. Brett has returned from Iceland where he was studying how to brew the country's only alcoholic beverage (the black death). It's not bad, though. I had some. Brett brought back a bit of it on the boat.

That is why there came a swish of silence, (two or three days without the blog a bit) it is two doors opening closing. '

"Burning Panties" is coming along well, wonderfully. It progresses to a place that I-me knows, that we knows, where latches are not tinkered with.

The Frontier Brothers are practicing and recording and creating new pieces. In short, do not live fearfully. And by that I mean you should not be afraid (to litter in your dream garden). Such is the place I-we knows.

Perfect Road

The lack of a good book eats me up. I finished Tropic of Cancer a few days ago. Yesterday I was so bored, I actually read through my copy of last year SI Swimsuit Edition. Yes, I own a copy. I read about all of the luxury resorts where the photographers and models stay. Places such as these are too perfect. I don't want a gaggle of people asking me what I want all the time. May I get you that, get you this. My room is a great resort. I get privacy and all the comforts of home. I have a shower. I do not have internet access, though.

Last night when I was riding my bike, I coasted over the evidence of a profound truth. That truth: Where money is, nice things are. Not in the ways one would expect, either. There are the obvious things, of course. And signs one has to feel around a bit to notice. While I was riding my bike, I noticed that nice cars were popping up. And as that little observation, like a pleasant bubble, expanded to a proper size within my brain, the road surrendered itself. Like a virgin too tired it was, and sweeter. I tell you, the road was as smooth as baby's bottom. Not a bump to disturb my straight course. I could have worn a blindfold and taken my hands off the handle bars and still ridden all night through the streets of that wealthy paradise, all without a care in the world. The smoothness, like that of a baby's bottom or like that of sanded balsa wood, was delicious. I wonder how the folks over there made that road so smooth.

Does the city pay for it knowingly. Do they let all the other roads go to shit but keep the best ones hidden like a secret in back road neighborhoods.

Some political and economic points occurred to me. Fuck them. I just want to think about how perfect that road was.

Found! Get Up Go Movie Mash Up

Whoever made this, Bravo! I am not sure what the video really means, but it includes tons of movies I love: Predator, The Goonies, Road Warrior, Blood Sport, Back to the Future...The list goes on. It feels like The Frontier Brothers are famous. Mash up videos start popping up. Also, there is some footage of me in high school, smiling at the camera and kissing my then girlfriend. The strangeness! I look so angelic. I don't know where that footage came from.

My favorite part is when Carl Weathers and Arnold do a strong arm handshake at the guitar solo spot. The beginning comes a close second. Enjoy! And thanks to whoever liked the song enough to make this video!

I gotta say, I don't look that bad compared to Mel.

Peta makes me mad, like Jesse James

PETA has condemned Obama. They're after him. He swatted a fly. Personally, I was impressed by the video. Jesus. It's a fucking fly.

I don't have much time to write this post. I've been really busy with school. Things like this, they call upon those long dorment springs of inner frustration to erupt into the bright sun with a flash of color and violence. My hands feel heavy, stuffed with gravel, the two want to make a thud on that someone's face. That ninny motherfucker.

Sorry I've been so busy with scholastic responsibilities. The studio looks great, right? I believe I'll visit the UT pool today. Across the way from the sparkling pool and over a fence there are construction workers tearing their backs and cutting their legs on exposed nails. And they can see us there, lounging by the pool. Never felt so good about myself in my life. So lucky I am. It was all luck. Things are not so bad, that's for sure. My car starts. It is not raining and my nose is not stuffed up. Construction workers should be protected better. The job is dangerous. Perhaps someday I'll be on the other side of the fence and my twenty year old UT ID won't get me in. I'll remember the silky water and the protuding bums of women coming up for breaths.

The Frontier Brothers Visit Cacophony Studios

I Don't Wanna

I threw a pair of socks over my shoulder this morning. I couldn't find them when I turned around. I tried to find them for a minutes and then gave up. The socks are gone.

Obama was speaking today on the tube. This was during my lunch time. On top of lowering health care costs, he said, the average person in America should make an effort to take a run or go to the gym; also, he made a point to urge Americans to curb their addiction to fast food, which has "caused an epidemic of obesity in our country." To my right, two people eating Taco Bell. At my left, three fat girls munching Chick-fil-a. All eyes glued to the screen. None seemed aware of the irony. The president had just called them out on being fat asses. That's when you know you've got to change things. 

We won't be able to play with Kepi Ghoulie in Ft. Worth. I am very sad, angry even.