OK, I'm back. We've been having some trouble getting all our internet eggs in one proverbial electronic basket, but things seem to be under control now.
Anyway, when we last left off I was about to step on a ferry boat for fourteen hours of sun and classic rock.
Some highlights of the trip:
-The day was hot. Really hot. And since I'm almost strictly nocturnal, standing on a ship's deck in the blazing sun all day is not my number one goal in life. Luckily, one of my bandmates had a bottle of 50 sunblock. That's right, 50. And I could have used about 30 more. Maintaining this alabaster complexion is not easy, you see.
-On the boat ride over we set up the band equipment and practiced. When we were rocking there was a very attractive young lady sunning herself on the deck. I'll admit I showed off a little, played a little flashier than necessary, struck a few poses etc. Anyway, when we were done I gave her a smile and in return got a look that unmistakably said "Um, yuck. You're really old, perv." Yup, I still got it.
-Once we got to Provincetown we got a free lunch. I ate three bowls of clam chowder that had been out in the sun for god knows how long. Good choice or bad choice?
-Um, bad choice of course. Four songs into the set on the cruise home I felt a twinge. Now, understand that we were playing on the very top deck of the boat and that the top deck is the part of the boat that sways the most in the lurching, churning, heaving ocean. As you could probably have predicted by now, I needed to head below deck and violently unburden myself of my bellyful of clams and taters. Nasty.
-When we got back to Boston Harbor we were greeted by a Boston Fire Dept. Tugboat shooting water high into the sky. The sun was going down on the horizon, I was playing my nineteen minute solo on Sympathy for the Devil, hundreds of people stood on the dock to greet us and the hot girl who thought I was old and decrepit was nowhere to be seen. It was a good end to a weird day.
As Ladywife Sarah and I prepared for our great journey westward we realized that my precious motorcycle was going to have to be left behind. The Beast just was not going to fit in our truck and buying a trailer was an expense we couldn't afford.
Of course, as those of you who read this regularly know, I can't be without the Beast for long as it is my sanity machine. And so, I hoofed it back to Boston the weekend after we moved to pick my baby up.
As it happened, my return coincided nicely with an opportunity to play some covers and make some money with the Captain Miles Band. Here's how it was sold to me...
Dave: Joe, we have a gig on the 7th. You in? Me: Sure, I guess. I'm always up to make a little money and have your children heckle and punch me. What's the show? Dave: We playing on a boat for the riders of the Pan Mass Challenge. Me: Cool, sounds good.
Now, here is why it pays to ask some questions. This is a conversation I had three weeks later, two days before the show...
Me: What time do I have to be there? Dave: Seven-ish Me: Cool. I'll take a nice ride and watch the Red Sox, then I'll meet you there. Dave: Um..... seven AM. Me: %@$#^@&*#(@&@(!*^&@*&%(*&%@(*#%!&^$*!^%@#^@!*_(_^#^%)&!*^%@#(^&!@*%#^)*(_
So it worked out that although I flew home to get my bike and spend a day and a half with friends, I ended up spending about 13 hot seconds with friends before spending 14 hours on a nasty ferry boat. Damn
Tomorrow I'll cover why Dramamine is a good thing and why clam chowder which has been sitting in the sun for hours is probably not.
My lovely wife Sarah and I are finally starting to settle in here in Rochester, having been at our new apartment for two weeks. Moving, as always, sucked, but now we seem to be finding our upstate New York groove. Essentially, it's the same as a Boston groove, just with less cursing out of pedestrians and a slightly better accent.
Things I've done in Rochester that I never did in Boston:
-I came upon a streetfight while walking home one night. Now, of course, I've come upon streetfights in Somerville...Hell, I've come upon fatal stabbings in Somerville. The difference is that in Rochester the combatants stopped fighting as I approached, then they separated and let me pass before returning to the punching and the kicking and the so on and so forth. One even gave me a "What's up?" nod.
-Friday night Sarah and I went to one of the many local hot dog eateries that dot our neighborhood. I ordered the "garbage plate," a Rochester specialty. My garbage plate consisted of two split hot dogs smothered in baked beans, onions and mustard perched on top of macaroni salad, French bread and French fries. It was awesome.
-I walked into a Hess station looking for directions. The guy behind the counter was tattooed and scary and was cursing as he sifted through a huge pile of receipts. Again, no different than Boston. As I approached he looked up and said "God damn paperwork. I hate this shit!" Still, same as Boston. But then he smiled, put the paperwork down and said "Anyways, sorry. How are you doing today?". And he meant it! We talked for five minutes and then he gave me the best directions ever.
I'm back on the internet superhighway, invented by Al Gore and subsequently improved upon by Time-Warner Cable of Rochester.
The past couple weeks have been a flurry of activity. Sarah and I bought a car, a couch, some other furniture, various entertainment components, lots of fast food and many bottles of Aleve for my new constant companion - Timothy Splitting Headache, Esq. I tell ya, this moving shit is trau-matic.
The Ladywife and I still are apparently in love, however, and by that I mean that my lovely girl has not filed any papers or asked to see what my vast holdings would equal if divided by two. And so life is pretty good.
Anyway, starting today the journal should be back on schedule, with minor blips and omissions when I'm away from my house doing dumb things like looking for a job or finally ending this silly sobriety experiment at the 900 bars within a two block radius.
This morning finds me sitting on the front steps of my new apartment in Rochester. Why the front steps? Well, the cable guy can't squeeze us in until August 10th and so I've been walking around like a god damn fool with my computer in my hands like a post-modern divining rod, desperately searching for a wireless network to steal from. And folks, I found one. Thank you Bumblebubuyog.
So far, everything has gone smoothly. Ladywife and I have somehow managed to keep the urge to mercilessly murder each other under control, with only a few moments of simmering resentment and sarcastic remarks having made it to the surface. It helps that our new apartment is pretty amazing...and big. So, when unpacking one more crate and barrel box starts to feel like too much, well, it's pretty easy to go and hide.
I appear to be losing signal, and I have to go buy a car today, so I guess I'll wrap it up. I'll post when I can (i.e. when the thievin' is good), but it may be sporadic.