I am getting sick in Kansas City tonight, battling illness with garlic and Bloody Marys. My nose has been running all day.
Still don't feel like writing. I like the town we're staying in tonight. It reminds me of home. I think it's called Silver Creek. We're staying with a big fat dog named Bojo, and his folks are sweet as hell and very accommodating.
So far, everything that gnaws at me or causes anxiety during this tour has nothing to do with touring or anybody I'm spending every day with. I'm exhausted, but ironically enough the promise of a five hour drive, and a nightly bout of drinking and music, are the only things that drive me onward.
I've gotten over heartache and headache before, and I have faith that all the old anodynes will prove just as effective as they've ever been. Bitterness and the open road. We'll cast our grievances to the wind.
This entry sucks shit. I'm going to bed.
Driving through Arkansas was beautiful today. Our passing through the Ozarks coincided perfectly with that supernaturally serene turning of the leaves. Fall in the Ozarks is held close to my heart, and I take delight in being witness to a small part of it.
I can't really write tonight. It's been such a busy evening, what with Shea meeting us in Lawrence and all. Fuck it, the muse is not with me tonight, no matter how pleasant the Kansas rain felt on my back.
I love the crusty dreadlocked chick whose house we're crashing at, and how she insisted on calling me Hank Williams all night.
I'll write you a letter tomorrow
Tonight, I can't hold a pen
W. C. Williams - collected poems (the revised 80's edition)
Frank Miller - "Ronin"
Mojave 3 - "Excuses from Travellers"
Walt - $2.75 (chicken gizzards, potato salad)
Timmy - $5 (records in Lawrence)