Nothing grinds to a halt

Chicago. A city with this much monochromatic culture is like a pressure cooker for the strange. These prohibition protesters seemed purposeless, shouting “Hell hath no hell! Turn back while you still can!” When we arrived the cops were just leaving – they had stopped to grab a selfie with the vigil of weirdos. After a meal and catching up with friends, we opened the show to an ecstatic sold out crowd. The Crane Wives wrapped the night neatly in woven harmonies of folk-rock rhapsody. Vince added his voice to the mix for the finale. Fantastic.

Yesterday was one of those long, unreal days that only happen on the road. From 4 PM to 6:30 PM we hung out at a truck stop waiting for our sixth wheel, Bobaba Beebe to materialize via bus. From 3:30 AM to 6 AM Bobaba and I hung around a diner, waiting for a Chicago friend to get off work. Waiting is a huge part of tour. Waiting in green rooms. Waiting around the host’s house. Waiting to get paid. Waiting to play. Waiting, always waiting up till the moment you step on stage. At the same time there’s always something to do, some silly story threaded along our collective existence.

Says “May all who enter as guests leave as friends.” In the bathroom. Vince said “I’m not like a tap your foot under the stall kinda guy.”
“I’m glad there are so many tow trucks over here because these vehicles are hit.”
Bobaba reacts: At 5am a convention of post-op tranny hookers enters the diner.

Today we spend our day loitering all across Chicago. There is so much to explore, share, create, and do. I almost want to wait, but I won’t.

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