The Night Before Tour Begins

Brett already left early today for a funeral in Fort Worth. It's just me now. I've been frantically active in preparation for the tour, attending to my own small but vital concerns toward what we might face on the road. Everything is organized: a suit case for chords and mics (on which I slapped the free "Shure" sticker that came with my SM58), different suitcases for different articles of clothing, ties and and pants in one, casual clothes in another. Still, I know all of it will inevitably fall apart on the road and all those pieces will drift, suspended in the random zero-gravity confusion of tour tiredness and disorder. But still I prepare and it quiets me. I like the work. 

When friends or people ask me stock questions, like "Are you excited?", I don't know how to respond. I've gotten used to telling them I don't get excited about much. It perplexes me how everyone is so "excited" all the time, as if pledging for a sorority or taking a two week trip to guatemala is like traveling to the space for the first time or something of equal value. Everyone is so excited. 

That being said, I look forward to the tour. I was telling Trav that for the first tour, we were pretty much thrust into the grind of it. We had no idea what to expect, what to do, how to handle ourselves or keep our sanity. It was grueling. Then came the second tour. My mental state thus predicted the same sort of Bataan Death March. But now, as this tour beckons me back into the flame of road life, I'm trying out a different perspective: Like I'm a goddamned hero, I'm van zandt spreading the gospel. This is the vintage tour, hitting the road. Because I have bad habit of reducing every aspect of life to its most brutish, disgusting, and ironic state, being a little romantic does not hurt me. 

Leaving for a long time, tonight, sitting around in the place that will soon be vacant is the sort of moment so terribly poignant that you want to ignore it. Like its not so dramatic, like you aren't leaving anything behind or taking too large a step. But if things go right I will not see my wood floors again for a long time. And everything will remain clean in this pierced moment, whiter than the rest. 

First tour stop. Dallas,

-Marshall Galactic