on a wayward bus

so much has happened. over this last week, that is. but at the same time, so very little. the routine, of bus to venue to bus to venue, has remained relatively solid. in edinburgh, yesterday, i did enjoy several walkabouts, exploring our small slice, as it were, maybe an area the same size as the whitaker neighborhood back home. all castles, crags, monolithic civic and religious structures, probably the prettiest place i've ever visited. but yesterday was a rare-y. we arrived somewhat early. as in 2 p.m. THE VOODOO ROOMS. this was a "one-off", specially set up by the club owner, who caters to a clientele that is, shall we say, heavily into "lifestyle music", in this case that lifestyle being swing. and the club was majestic, all black and gilt gold, silver touches, totally phenomenal in its art deco decor, and probably purpose built in that fashion in the latter part of the 18th century. i am sure that people made "lifestyle" decisions even in that epoch. i understand being obsessed with stuff. and i like going out, getting dolled up. but we are being judged by our "period correctness". to me this is narrowcasting. come on people! hows' about "free to be you and me"? of course, so much that i do dates me, and maybe that attitude does just that. i've sort of never understood a strict devotion to one style, musically and otherwise, and maybe this is where i miss the bus... maybe this is where frontiers are forged and expounded upon, where the real einsteins dwell. maybe i have been naive in my thought, my assumption, that merging genre is where we find things that are new. maybe there are no rules. that is probably the case. well anyway, i guess that i should relax. my same wish for the lifestyle people. and, to their credit, with three songs remaining in our set, they did.

what was tremendous about yesterday (i reside on the bus, at a rest stop where we must remain, some 60 miles out of london, camden town our ultimate goal), was a no-questions-asked attitude about catering to us, pouring a cider, ordering a rack of scottish lamb from the menu, providing juice and really whatever we wanted, in addition to our regular catering rider. this was the only real "rock star" day of the tour, sort of reminding me of my recent travels with the black francis band, where everything was so above the board that it makes this tour seem totally "ghetto". (this in parenthesis, because, well, did you know that, 20+ years ago, the folk that lived on the north side of first street would refer to the whitaker neighborhood, such as where i currently reside, platted as "sladdens' third addition", as "the wrong side of the tracks"? cut off from the city by 6th and 7th avenues, the freeway on/off ramps, and the chambers connector, and then by the tracks, first avenue, and then the river, our lovely little village was truly eugenes' only ghetto. and now it is eugenes' creative hub. this just to defend the use of the word. why, the glass menagerie on the corner of 5th and blair used to be a restaurant called "lighter brown/darker brown"... )

at least some of the issues of the bus, for myself, have been sorted out. remember, our bus, known as "animal crackers", is now on it's third driver on this shortish one month trip. for these four days in the u.k., we have PEER (say "pear"), another german driver, one who does not even work for this company. like us, he cannot imagine the crudeness of this bus. he set about cleaning, arranging, and organizing, from the get go. he has put every system to right. the heat and a.c. are now, instead of being totally full on all the time, perfectly regulated. i have, as of thursday, moved bunks, from the last uppermost on the left (room 403) to the first, lowermost on the right (room 101), in other words out of the snorers ghetto and into the comfort zone. of course, like every other station on our bus, this bunk has its drawbacks. it is where the central heating system does most of its work. my toes, needless to say, are quite toasty. but, not being over the back wheels, the ride is like that of a cadillac, all cushy, no jangling vibrations or crashing of worn out components to listen to, no grinding transmission or shattering of pancaked piston to endure. there was a stretch of two days, ending on that lucky thursday, where i only napped, maybe a cumulative three hours of sleep, feeling deathly and craven, really just barely propped up and surviving, trying to get sleep when all else where resting well in their bunks up in the front lounge, again propped oddly against couches and bucket seats, trying to rest. so shitty and sleepless. i had never felt this way ever before. now i am somewhat rested, having put the then necessary drink till i'm drunk and passed out leg of this trip behind me. i wonder, today, how long will it take to become normal, rested, with a regular (as much as it could be for a daddy) sleep schedule and habits that i am in full command of? well, these issues will probably be resolved by my big soft bed, my lovely wife, my charming sonny, and my scamp of a step-daughter. in other words, all the comforts of home. there in the ghetto.

today we leave the bus. today we play our last show of this poverty tour. today, or rather tomorrow at 2 a.m., we will be dumped with no ceremony at heathrow airport, where we then will shuffle about until 3 p.m., our scheduled hour of departure. to then enjoy (!!!) a 16 hour travel day, through frozen chicago, to portland, where i will have the good fortune to rest with my family at my mothers house just outside of oregon city, and enjoy a family dinner with my brother kevins' family, and then the next night a stay at the kennedy school, joined by some old friends for cocktails and such. my anniversary! of course i'll be missing it by two days. but back to the scene of the crime. as some of you may know, rachel and i were wed in our living room on december 20 of '06, then had a family-only ceremony at the kennedy school the next day, the solstice, our chosen day to celebrate the season, and now i do my best to "get to the church on time" and hurry on home across shivery seas and frozen tarmac and maybe the great pacific northwest will be kind enough to save some snow for me. however it is is how i will find it, and i will love it and remember that i actually do love my life. almost anywhere except on this wayward, derelict, rickety and out of control bus.