Catching up: Portland

OK, seated in a coffee shop in Grand Junction, CO; at last, an opportunity to Blog up with myself.

I got to Portland around 7:30 on Saturday night, after a beautiful drive over the pass. There was, of course, some shitty weather, but nothing at all like the last time (which had proved to be some of the hairiest driving I had ever had to do; that was in December, though, so I pretty much expected to have to do some stupid driving). Anyway, Jeff was out, but Emmy was home & greeted me outside with Dinah (who freaks out on people when they first arrive, but much less so if she can be brought outside to meet them). We loaded some stuff inside (I'd be staying for 3 days, so brought up a buncha crap, including my coffee machine - don't leave home without it!), then I joined Emmy outside while she smoked. I promptly picked up Dinah, which Emmy greeted with some concern; but Dinah let me get away with it, and I thus established that I was allowed to do that in my relationship to her (which is what I explained to Emmy).

I was starving, and wanted to listen to some music; so, we went down the street to the Jade Lounge, where a local band called Paschal Coeur was playing. In choosing a place to eat, we had listened to a bit of their music on myspace (cursed, cursed myspace! How useful thou art, betimes), and it had sounded cool.

The Jade Lounge proved to be likewise cool; lots of various finger foods, including: yam fries with wasabi-soy ketchup (delicious!), pretty damned good pork egg rolls, and chicken wings with some kind of ginger sauce on them. The music was good, and I felt myself instantly to be in Portland: a cool little bar, with a cool little band, some great food at almost 11 PM (all bars are required to have food until they close, so there are tons of good restaurants there. (Amusingly, when I spoke aloud the idea that, perhaps that had something to do with there not being a Denny's in downtown Portland (indeed, they get lots of business from late-night drunks in Flagstaff) I was immediately shouted down by those around me; it seems Portland residents are quite attached to their city's eschewal (word?) of all things corporate, and won't hear a word of you suggesting that other, pragmatic forces might also be at work). ((Super-parenthetical!))

Anyway, We had planned to head out for the Sassparilla show after that, but Jeff was getting back from his ludicrously insane rafting trip any moment, so we opted to wait for him (we didn't end up leaving the Jade Lounge until around midnight). He had gone to raft a river that was classified, technically, as unraftable; that is, tons of V+ rapids. He had recently joined the Oregon whitewater rafting team, and they do things like that. Just two of them in the boat, though, so rather intense. Apparently he and his companion would be the first to raft some portions of that river. He had thus had a very early day, and only agreed to go out to the show on the condition that we have some coffee ready for him. Naturally willing to oblige, I fired up the mokka, made coffee, which we drank, and then stayed up playing Chez Geek instead of going to the show. Great to see them, as always.

The next day proved to be rather mellow; woke up elevenish, made coffee, then went to the Pied Cow, where one can get tea, greek sampler platters, and hookahs - all of which we did, and sat outside on a glorious Portland Spring day. It was around 70, and awesome. We wandered back to the apartment around 4, and I headed out for the show at Vergnetti's.

Annie had just gotten the place up and running in the last few months; when I was there in December, it wasn't officially open yet. So it was cool to see the place. The front room was small, and had around a dozen tables ordered around a coffee cart; the back room would house the show, which had a bunch of chairs in front of a small are just beyond a broad archway which would serve as the stage. We were supposed to go on at 6, but I knew good and well that wasn't going to happen; I had been telling people 6:30, but even that seemed unlikely (as it happened, we got things off the ground a little after 7).

I had just brought two loads of stuff inside the place when Wendy Cipolaro walked up; we hadn't seen each other in 8 years, and I had just remembered she was in Portland before I left Flagstaff. Somehow, we had kept in touch, and so I had told her about the gig, as I had many other people from the semi-distant past who I knew lived in Portland; she was the only one who showed up. Actually, that's a pretty expectable ratio; you tell all kinds of people that you'll be in town on tour, and one or two will actually make an appearance. Well, Lynsi, Dave, Emmy, and Jeff would all be there, as well as two friends of Dave and Lynsi who were visiting; but that almost doesn't count, since Lynsi and Dave (or Mimsy and Dimsy, as I started calling them while I was there) had just left Flagstaff a month before, and I was staying with Emmy and Jeff.

Wendy had been in Portland for a couple years; she had spent time in the Peace Corp, in Bangladesh, and a few years in Michigan or Minnesota or Wisconson (not having been to any of those three states, I somehow can't keep them straight in my head when somebody says they're from or have lived in one of them; a notable exception is Buzz Nichols, who I know to live in Michingan). We talked about what a trip it was to see Dom Flemons' face and name in all sorts of prominent places.

There was a decent little crowd of folks between the three of us. Annie went on first, and I joined her onstage playing flute on a couple of tunes; then John played, and impressed everyone with his display of dexterity - being a one-man band is a rather impressive thing, and rightly so. He even played Pile of Junk, which has always been one of my favorites of his songs. Then we took a break and I played, with Annie joining me at the end of "I Don't Care What You Say" for a ten-minute long improvised back-and-forth about boobs. It may well have gone on for too long, but it was fun, and people were laughing throughout. John played again to wrap up the night.

I felt really loose to be playing with such a group of people who knew me so well sitting there; and found them all laughing at lines in songs I had always found to be amusing to me, but had rarely gotten laughs for at other times. Strange how you can have that interpretation for your own lyrics, but not expect other people to pick up on it; they definitely proved me wrong, in a pretty cool way, actually. A lot of fun, as I told stories and whatnot, and directed various lyrics at various people there. It was a great time, and just what I wanted out of a show in Portland.

The next day was also mellow, and included a visit to Heart, a coffee shop right down the street from Jeff and Emmy's that served the fabled siphon coffee for a mere $6 per cup. I would never buy such nonsense ordinarily, and Emmy was appalled that I would even consider buying it, and (as it happened, completely correctly) divined that it wouldn't be my style of coffee at all. But I was feeling touristy, and was pretty curious about the device itself - what, indeed, could possibly justify anyone's spending $6 on a cup of coffee? I had to find out what the whole damned deal was about.

The device has a globe that gets filled with water in the bottom, and a carafe that seals to the top of that with coffee in between. The place sticks the globe over a $20,000 halogen lamp heating system, which boils the water, and forces it up through a glass tube that extends down through the water, not unlike my mokka; but after it has brewed, it is allowed to cool, which sucks the water back down through the coffee again, and into the lower globe (since a seal is maintained, once the steam condenses and contracts once again, it has no place to go but back into the lower globe). Quite a fascinating process; the device itself can be bought for $99, or you can drop $6 a pot at the cafe. The coffee was good; but I like my coffee to be completely opaque with superfine coffee sediment, and this stuff was (while pretty strong) also rather mild, a few steps toward tea in effect. Not my speed; but, i made a complete idiot of myself, and embarassed Emmy, Jeff, and their friend Will, by filming the whole process, and asking the barista lost of silly questions about how it all worked. He played along, pretty unironically and without getting visibly annoyed with me; he seemed bemused more than anything else, and perhaps thought I was with some kind of indie tv show he hadn't heard of, and so felt obliged to play along with my filming and questioning. These days you never know when your most unsympathetic, irritated and short-tempered incident might be caught on film as your defining moment.

Jeff had to go to work after that, and I had to finish stuff for the Song Walk; so we went back to the apartment, and I sank my head into the computer for an hour or so to do some emailing. Then Emmy and I went off to Powell's, the mecca of mecca's for used books. Every time I go there I find things I haven't thought about in forever, and end up spending tons of dough on books I will lovingly read over the next weeks and months. As it happened, this time I dropped about a hunnert, and emerged with a paper sack full of science fiction, vonnegut, hesse, and various others.

We went into the rare books room, where the most modestly priced specimen cost more than my car; the first things you see when you walk in are these giant photography books, all of which conicide in having pictures of naked ladies somewhere within, in large format and for all the world to see. Very funny; come see rare, giant photos of nekkid wimmin! I was amused. They also have a first english edition of the Little Prince, which I think was signed, for a mere nine thousand. More than all of my possessions put together in a pile and sold at their best price, I'd say.

We left Powell's after an hour and a half of used book orgiastics, and stopped in at Guardian Games, a local gaming store. I had asked the guy at Powell's about the expansions for Chez Geek, and he had directed me there. It proved to be an enormous place, with half the room dedicated to tables where the geeky could gather and game. Emmy was a bit overwhelmed, never having seen people waving their geek flag high with such abandon before. I was almost persuaded to buy Chez Cthulhu, which was a modification of Chez Geek to somehow involve the Cthulhu Mythos; but I restrained myself, and only bought the first expansion to Chez Geek.

With that, we headed out for dinner at the Screen Door, an amazing soul food restaurant that usually had a line out the door, but which was mercifully slow owing to the basketball game happening between Portland and Phoenix (Emmy and Jeff's friend Will had been pushed by some random dude for wearing a Phoenix Suns hat; even in the multiculturally hip, independently-minded metropolis of Portland, you have idiotic sports zombies). So we got a table, and got served, remarkably quickly, and had a fine time. Wendy and John joined us, John a bit later as he had to drive from whatever part of the bumblefuck fringe of Portland he had just moved to. John has always enjoyed living in the bumblefuck fringe of wherever; in Flagstaff, he lived in what was basically a cabin on the edge of town, heated via woodstove, and occasional host to various deadbeat songwriting friends of his (e.g. me a time or two).

And that'll do for now; I have some stories to tell about Boise and Moab, as well, but am pretty exhausted from Blogging, and so must pause. Tonight at The Ale House, here in grand Grand Junction, Colorado.

Intermediate Blog: pictures in Portland

Once again, time has gotten the better of me, and I'm way, way behind in my Blogging.

Unfortunately, the restaurant I have chosen for the site of my Blogetry is closing around me; so, I have uploaded some pictures, chronicling part of my stay in Portland, as well as a few from the show at Vergnetti's Coffee Shop in Portland, but the rest will have to wait until I get to somewhere I can chill out further and blog, blog, blog. Driving to Moab today, which should take around 8 hours if the highway gods are kind to me; it will take closer to 9 if they are not. We shall see.

Mountain's Edge, first gig in Bend

Rolled into Bend around 4:30, after a pretty yet cloudy/drizzly drive from Klamath Falls. 97 winds along next to a lake (Klamath Lake? I'm such an ignoramus), which would no doubt be gorgeous in the sun; as it was, it was still beautiful, in a brooding, windswept, brown way.

First stop in Bend was Strictly Organic Coffee, where I'll be playing on Saturday afternoon; they hook you up with an account there, which is sizable, and ensures that I end up spending a large chunk of my Bend time there. Good coffee, good folks - Rhonda and Richard, who run the joint, are both really nice people.

Headed over to The Mountain's Edge around 7:30; it reminded me a lot of the old (dearly departed) Mogollon Brewing Co, with lots of wooden trim and barstools; a big place, with a nice stage are & tables, as well as a number of pool tables set off toward the back, a big bar, and some amazing food. I had a steak (I don't cook steaks often enough myself to be able to do a good job of it, so when I get a free meal at a place that does I go for it), very tasty.

Ramsey, the sound guy/bouncer, was a jovial, friendly dude who was enormous. 6' 3", probably, 275, radiating goodwill, but obviously the kind of dude you wouldn't want to piss off - as difficult as that might be. He said he originally hailed from southern california, had moved to Bend intending to stay for 2 years, then wander on; that was 15 years ago. Reminiscent of the stories you used to hear more often about people living in Flagstaff, really.

I played the gig with The Boxcar String Band (http://www.myspace.com/boxcarstringband), a rockabilly duo. They were both really cool - Joe (guitar, slide guitar, banjo, vocals, kick drum) and Casey (stand-up bass, vocals) - and tore it up. They went on first, because the bassist had to get up early the next day to work. He worked in an auto paint shop, but had used some leftover paint to paint his bass; it looked awesome, so much so that I assumed it was an extremely expensive instrument when I saw it. Casey's folks were there to watch the show, and told me he had painted it himself; it blew me away, as the damned thing looked awesome. Ramsey was suitably impressed as well, and we both were of the opinion that Casey should go into business painting musical instruments, which I told him later.

Buck, the guy who booked me, turned up at the start of their set; he knew Heidi (my host) and her friend, Christina, and so he and I met while I was sitting with them. He was super cool, took good care of me; proved to be a bit of a biker-looking type, with a funky beard and mustache. I began to wonder how many people were inclined to hire me to play music at least in part influence by my own choice in facial growth, what with Jon Mangelos from the Barnwood and all.

I went on around 10:30, and had a great time. Best show so far, really; I felt completely relaxed, played well, and had a good time bantering with the crowd. I never get tired of telling the story about my old band, Phantom Vibration, getting yanked off the air when we played on Good Morning, Arizona, for using the word "masturbation" in a song.

After I played for around an hour, the Boxcar String Band went back on and played a few songs; then I joined them onstage, playing lead on a few songs using Joe's other guitar (he had it tuned open for slide, but gave me the nod to tune it up to standard). I backed them up on a few, then we closed with me singing "Folsom Prison Blues", with Joe playing lead. A lot of fun. Hung out and shot the shit with Joe and Casey for a while after the show, telling stories and exchanging ideas and viewpoints. They're playing today at Baldy's, from 6 to 8, provided it's not too beastly cold out. Been sunny all day, a bit breezy perhaps, but nothing the veteran performer can't handle; I might stop by their gig and say hey, just to show my support.

No gig tonight; had one every day for the previous six, and am not feeling tired of playing or touring at all. Feels like I've managed to pace things pretty well. Today is gorgeous in Bend, and I'm looking forward to tomorrow as well, should be even warmer. Tomorrow night I play at the Parilla Grill; Casey tells me the fish tacos there are awesome. Next day I've got the noon gig at Strictly O, then off to Portland for some fun in the big city.

I am a lucky, lucky man to be able to do what I'm doing.

Arrived in Bend; some brief thoughts

So, got to Bend, Oregon a couple hours ago; tonight I play at the Mountain's Edge, with the Boxcar String Band, a rockabilly duo from the area. Pretty stoked to play with them.

Glad to be off the road for a few days; I get to hang out in Bend until Saturday, when I head to Portland for three days, and more time to chill. Three gigs here in Bend: Mountain's Edge, the Parilla Grill, and Strictly Organic Coffee. Very good stuff.

Last night at Waldo's in Klamath Falls was pretty cool; I really enjoy playing in smaller towns. Met several extremely cool people there at the bar, and the folks who ran the place were really happy with how things went. It was kinda shitty out, rainy and cold, drove through some snow to get there, so it wasn't a banner night, but cool all the same. As I expected, quite a contrast to the shows I played in San Francisco, where people can be so blase about new stuff - despite, or because of, being surrounded by interesting cultural experiences. The folks at Klamath were interested and talkative; while most people I talked to in San Francisco were to wrapped up in themselves to take an interest in you. Not true for all, certainly, and I met a few notable exceptions; but the overall vibe is, simply, that people just don't have time or energy enough to take an interest in you. I got much more in tips in Klamath, too. Just goes to show.

One extremely cool thing at the gig on Monday in Frisco (yep, I went there) was, folks from various points & periods of my life elsewhere turned up; Anastasia, who was in Germany when I was there; Nick, who I took some classes at NAU with (he was present when i almost got into a fight with some rude, noisy, fellow students in a Differential Equations class - and had my back, too); and Shawn, who had lived in Flagstaff years before, and had played in various bands over the years - most memorably to me was Vena Cavae, a 12-piece noise band who took over the Alley open mic one of the first nights we had it. Pretty incredible. They all hung out, and we went for a drink afterward; it had been seven years since I had seen Anastasia, and at least four since I had seen Nick or Shawn, I think. Very good stuff.

Snow on the ground this morning in Klamath Falls; fucking cold, and misty and drizzly on the way over the mountain. Once I got within 25 miles of Bend the sun came out. I went straight to Strictly Organic Coffee, where they pay musicians with an account you can access the whole time you're in town. I'll be eating there pretty much every day, and drinking their excellent coffee.

Well, anyway, off to get ready for the gig.

Fresno, Ripon, day one in San Francisco

Gonna do a quick recap of the last few days, just to get it down; hard to fathom how much happens in just a few days. I really like this whole blogging thing, if for no other reason than I have a reason to get things down a bit myself, just to keep a sort of public journal of my adventures.

Fresno at the Patio Cafe. A slow gig; a kind of hoity-toity part of Fresno, I'm really an odd choice to book there. That said, everyone there seemed to like it, and I sold a couple CDs, had some good conversations. There were three people who were sitting right next to where I would play, rather in the way, in fact, and they stuck around for a half-hour after they were done eating, just taking up space and keeping me from playing. I finally just asked them to move. Funny thing, they knew I was supposed to be starting at 7; just didn't care, I guess. People are funny.

Stayed with a guy who's sells solar panels; electricity is so expensive in Fresno, it actually makes real solid financial sense to borrow money to put them in, then turn your $300 electric bill into a $200 loan payment on solar panels. So his business is booming; stayed up trading music and shooting the shit with him and his fiancee.

Next night was in Ripon (pronounced just like it's spelled: rip - on), at The Barnwood Restaurant. Kind of a surreal location, it's right off the highway, inside the loop that the exit ramp makes to get to the main street; so when you're outside, you hear the constant, rather loud susurration of traffic, all around you. Jon, the owner, had one of the most wicked, waxed handlebar mustaches I have ever seen. Later he said that it represented 5 years' growth. An incredibly generous spirit, and a talkative, entertaining storyteller; he also is fighting the good fight in Ripon, California (just north of Modesto), getting live music in there, helping to create a scene. So necessary to have someone like that around. He had hung up my flyer, and emailed it out to 4000 people, of whom a handful showed up specifically for the music. Everyone there was into the tunes, very cool, even a table of 10 high school kids on the way to the prom. Rather surreal, but they dug it; I started bantering with them the moment I sat down. Jon collects cufflinks, and showed us some that he had just bought as part of a lot from an old jewelry store that was selling off stock. He travels all over the world, catering conferences and whatnot; the restaurant has been in Ripon for 30 years. My hosts that night had eaten there 29 years before, and that was the last time they had been there. Totally strange.

Next day was a short drive to San Francisco. I hadn't been to the bay area since I worked for Trek America, in the summer of 99. Last night (Sunday) I played at Bluesix, as part of a sort of invitational open mic. I was supposed to be playing a proper gig there with a band called Honeycomb; but my friend, who was in the band, kind of flaked, and the gig had fallen through. Well, it's kind of an open question who flaked, since I could have called myself to double check; as it was, I called the venue three weeks back, and was surprised to find out that the show wasn't happening. Joe, the guy who runs the joint was pretty cool about getting me on the bill for last night, but it wasn't what I was expecting at all - I pretty much volunteered my services, where I had been expecting to make something to help me get down the road. It's what I get for not following up on these things, I suppose. I played four songs, basically an open mic set, for an appreciative audience. Got to see some great acts play, good & talented folks, a real mix; but I always get the feeling, when I'm hanging out in a big city, that people just don't bother to take the time to get to know people they meet, or are just not interested, or maybe they're just self-absorbed. I always ask people what they're up to, who they are, and so on, and so often they just don't respond in kind. The world of big-city life is so weird. Reaffirms my love of a small-town music scene; nobody's in such a rush that they won't talk to you, and nobody's so jaded or disinterested that they'll dismiss you offhandedly. Well, maybe not nobody, but at least most people.

Tonight's gig is at Socha Cafe; there are a bunch of folks I know in San Francisco, who have said they'll stop by, many of whom I haven't seen in years and years. Should be a good time.

Final Night in San Diego

So this whole blogging thing requires you to sit down regularly, and have something to say. Yep. Sure does.

Two gigs gone by, only one worth writing about; the gig on the 13th at Hennessey's was one of the more forgettable gigs I've played, but it's definitely good to get a night like that out of the way at the beginning of the tour. Loosens you up, and makes you appreciate the better nights that are bound to come. A slow night, not my kind of room, not my kind of crowd; there were a couple of people there who were into it, but they didn't stick around too long. I was pretty much playing for Angie and Kevin (Angie Hammond, we went to high school together - she lives in Carlsbad, not far from Hennessey's; and Kevin Doyle, as mentioned in the first entry in this hyar blog).

Last night at La Gran Tapa was a different story. This gig had a lot more going for it for several reasons: an earlier set (6:30 as opposed to 9:30), downtown San Diego, classy joint (so classy that Doyle told me, when he walked in, he said to himself: "they're letting him play here?" Cool art on the walls, old bullfighting prints, a stuffed bull's head tastefully tucked away at the end of a hallway, old candelabras tucked here and there.

Ina and Mike were working behind the bar; Ina hails from Moscow, studying English. Beautiful and serenely disinterested in the way of so many slavic beauties. Mike had played professional tennis back in the day, and then traveled the country as a tennis program director.

Aubrey was sitting at the bar when I was setting up; I asked Mike and Ina if I could take their picture to throw up on my blog, and she ran off - so of course, I snapped a blurry photo while she was running away. Too funny; she signed my emailing list on the way out of the bar.

Small but enthusiastic crowd; one lady was trying to convince me to sell my songs and make a million dollars, her final trump argument for why I would want to get a buncha money being "there are charities that could use that money". I kept trying to explain that I'm happy driving a car I paid $700 for. Several tables of friendly, interested people.

Spent the day today bumming around Encinitas, a quiet suburb of San Diego. Bookstores, thrift store, guitar store, beach. A great day off; much needed after the hectic departure and the intense gigs already played, happy to chill out. Tonight a quiet night of laundry and blogging, and listening to random stuff off the internet. I plan to get an early start tomorrow, to avoid the evil that is traffic in and around L.A.

Tomorrow I'm off to Fresno, to play the Patio Cafe; couchsurfing with a dude who is involved in solar electricity somehow. I plan to pick his brain about the field, and see how much he knows about electric car conversions.

The Day After (the first gig in San Diego)

A bit after noon, second full day in San Diego. Fell asleep listening to dorky fantasy on tape (well, mp3), and woke up feeling groggy, but pretty well-rested. Kevin has an empty room in the house, which I am occupying with a sleeping bag, a pillow, and an assortment of clothes.

The gig last night was at a place called Hennessey's, which is some kind of corporate chain restaurant. They were playing reggae over the loudspeakers; I heard Burning Spear's version of the Grateful Dead's "Estimated Prophet", for the first time in many years. It's a great version of that song, off a compilation of Dead covers that came out in 1991 or so, called "Deadicated". The place had that somewhat contrivedly relaxed atmosphere that you seem to find in so many corporate establishments; and the piped in, satellite reggae just seemed to fit the mold. This was one of the first gigs I booked on the tour, and I had no idea what to expect: a Tuesday night gig, with a good guarantee, and the person booking me hadn't even wanted to hear my music first (when I offered to email her the link to my myspace page, she said "Nah, you seem cool - I'd like to give you the gig").

I met Angella Hammond there; we had gone to high school together, and had barely seen each other in the last fifteen years or so; time and distance being what they are. I had forgotten she lived in San Diego until my brother reminded me. I wrote on he wall on facebook, and it turned out the gig was in her neighborhood (Carlsbad, CA, just north of San Diego). It is always a trip to see people from back in the day, especially because I didn't start playing music until after high school.

The place was packed when I got there, with old, bargain hunting folks taking advantage of their two for one burgers. They all cleared out by the time I played, and I was left with a pretty indifferent audience; there was a couple there who were into it, and Kevin and Angella were there and were quite supportive, but everyone else really didn't give a crap. Ah, well; a great way to start a tour, actually, since it gets that lame gig out of the way early. You have to walk into every one not giving a shit who or how many will be there, or whether or not they care. Own your musical space, enjoy the act of playing, and don't focus on the atmosphere or how people are reacting; fact is, often times (especially in restaurants), people are into it even though they're not terribly demonstrative; so you have to be able to suspend interpretation. At the end of that gig, there was more in the tip jar than I had expected; so maybe people weren't quite as indifferent as they had appeared. Nah, I think a lot of them were pretty indifferent.

Going and editing this after the fact; hopefully, I'm remembering stuff that seemed important and interesting. Retroactive blogging? Rewriting blogstory? Whutevah. More blogging is good blogging.

Beginning

So here I am in San Diego, CA (well, Encinitas, actually), hanging out at the home of one Kevin Doyle, who I haven't seen in... 14 years? We went to St. John's College together, were freshman in Annapolis together and spent many, many hours playing pool in the basement of whatever dorm that was that had the pool table in it in 1992. I went to SJC Santa Fe after freshman year; he spent Junior year there, and we spent many hours playing ping-pong. Oh, and of course, drinking. Funny, on the way here I thought to myself, maybe I should mention to Kevin that I quit drinking, or he might assume that that was the order of the day. Turns out he quit recently, and had been wondering if he should mention that to me, too. So: nobody drinking, nobody mentioning it, but here we are.

The departure from Flag was hectic, as always; someday I'll learn to do things ahead of time. Actually, I had done some stuff ahead of time, but still managed to depart in a frenetic cloud of activity. Gave my car a tune up six days before, and the fuel regulator went out while I was doing that; a fortunate thing to have happen (if an odd coincidence), since having that happen on the road would have been debilitating. Got the car fixed, finished the tune up, and off we go. A busted fuel regulator means that the car continually floods, and can't start; it also means that the gasoline overflows the pistons into the crankcase. The guy drained 9 quarts of fluid out of the crankcase (should be 5 quarts of oil or so; which meant that there were 4 extra quarts, and it was a soupy, oil-gasoline mix). When I was leaving Flagstaff I had a cloud of smoke behind the car for a good 40 minutes, as the heat from highway operation burned off all the oily-gas mixture that had drained into the exhaust system. Finally stopped, and down the road I went.

My first show is tonight, at Hennessey's, in Carlsbad. Now off to prepare stuff for the Song Walk in May (which is something I had planned on getting done before I left... ah well.)