Hola Friendos:

We’re on the road right now heading down to Austin, Texas.  Bluebonnets and Indian paintbrushes line the bumpy roads as the sun beats down on our grandma camper.  we’re 8 deep right now in the Jean Claude “Band Van” and tensions are…...well…pretty low.  Half the van’s reading a newspaper while I type and the other half is sleeping or driving (but neither of the two at the same time).  Our manager is rolling with us right now so we’re on our best behavior.  That means no soft core porn on flip videos and no baseball bats to mailboxes at midnight.  Things are chill.

This is day three of the tour and thus far, it’s been a helluvalotta fun.  We almost ran over two drunk dudes who decided to play Frogger on the highway into Houston.  That was freaky.  Eli bought some Billy Bob teeth at the truck stop.  Wendy picked out salsa tunes at the San Potosi Restaurant.  Tim keeps blowing fuses at two in the morning while making Ezy-Mac.  Nick is knee deep in Cormac McCarthy’s Blood Meridian.  Melanie’s been keeping tabs on the days’ events.  Daryl’s driving and pulling over for pit stops to “stretch” (aka:  smoke).  Me….I’m taking pictures.  My older brother lent me his sweet camera to take pictures so I’ve been caught up with that…..as well as trying to Twitter and post updates and keep in touch with friends and blah blah blah.

It’s nice to be out and seeing the countryside.  There are so many trucks in Texas.  Trucks, banks, and churches.  We keep seeing this billboard that reads:  John 3:3—“Stop the porn and be reborn”.  Or another one is:  “There’s nothing too hard for God.”  As you can imagine, there’s been a couple of jokes poked around these themes.  People are nice though and we haven’t had any immediate confrontations with roadside preachers.  Perhaps by the end of this tour, we’ll need a little heavenly aid.  Who knows.

The music’s been sounding great.  We never get a chance to be huddled in a green room with no one to talk with but ourselves so it’s been interesting.  There’s a lot of outfit changes, dirty jokes, clothes strewn everywhere, empty water bottles, last minute vocal warm-ups, the occasional freakout, nailbiting, endless chatter, and the sudden knock from the stage manager telling us to get on out there.  It all happens pretty fast and then….poof…we’re done.  It’s a helluva time and I’m pumped.

Anyway, I’ll keep anyone reading updated about future happenings.  We’ll be into Austin in no-time and grinding on some Jamaican jerk chicken.  Oh hell yeah. 

Heyo!

cheers,

jason

P.S.—Thanks to Marshall Hooper for letting us crash at his pad last night.  We owe you one man.  And thanks to my older brother Russ for letting us crash at his place the night before (and to Katherine for making breakfast)