The Fifty State Tour Journal

Here is Lis's entire journal from the tour, from beginning to end. Enjoy!

Tuesday, August 13, 2002

: : : two days to blastoff : : :

I'm sitting in my office at home, having a muffin and contemplating the stuffed car outside. All my "Fifty State Tour" ducks, lined up in a row. It's raining serious out there, with occasional friendly lightning - making it hard to believe it's morning. We're setting out for NH today at 8am. The first show is two days away, but we've got to truck from Madison to Portsmouth - a 21-hour journey if you only take cat naps. And I'm saving myself for the marathon, so we are stopping in Columbus.

Last night, I put on my loveliest summer dress and splashed around in the rain. Then took a picture of myself: pre-tour Lis. Then sat in the tub, warming up and thinking of things to write in my journal. Do you ever do this? It totally spoils the spontaneity of amateur non-fiction, but it's irresistible. At any rate, the rain and the tub were very satisfying. No tour jitters for me. ~

Friday, August 16, 2002

new hampshire, day one

(8/15/02) Number one is done! I just played for a great audience of new and old fans & friends at the Press Room in Portsmouth, NH. The best place possible for the kick-off, since I grew up not 20 minutes from the harbor city. A serious mug of New England Clam Chowder at the Stock Pot helped to fuel the show, and I'm still feeling serene from a little morning meditation in my parents' woodstove room. They have this crazy collection of classical music - I put on a little Faure, and tried to forget car troubles (my air conditioner doesn't work, I'm driving around on a spare with a nail in it, and my left rear strut has to be replaced).

Life is good! I've made up a cool little map of the tour, too, for my merch table - so folks at shows can see where I'm going and where I've been. One down, 49 to go. ~

vermont, day two

(8/16/02) Woke at 9AM, well rested. It's a gorgeous day in NH - not as hot as yesterday. Just 90 degrees. The pavement doesn't char your heels. Still haven't had a chance to get to the beach, but we're actually staying in NH tonight (after the show in Burlington, VT), so there might be a chance to kick up some sand before heading to Maine in the morning. I miss those few days of absolute heat that grace the NH seacoast every year. Heat is beautiful, the way it makes your body all relaxed. Just not in the car.

Speaking of which, it looks like the strut will be fixed, but the A/C would cost me 3 months' rent to repair. So we're opting for open windows.

I hear Burlington has great restaurants, and most people just love that city. It's on Lake Champlain. Can't wait to see it during the day, though it does seem odd to go to such a notorious college and ski town during the summer. (I played the Burlington Coffeehouse this past winter, and didn't get to savor much of the atmosphere.)

After tonight, number 2 will be through! ~

Saturday, August 17, 2002

maine, day three

(8/17/02) Last night in Burlington was gorgeous - a tiny but wonderful audience at the great Burlington Coffeehouse enthusiastically witnessed the second show of the tour. I got my first official souvenir of the tour - a "superstar" necklace with a little picture of Ani Difranco at Falcon Ridge on the back (for inspiration?) and tons of beads. Made for me by Ken, resident jewelry-maker and Willy Nelson look-alike.

Driving down College Street to the lake at sundown in Burlington, squinting across the water to the mountains of State Number Five (New York), and inhaling the heavy balsam & cedar perfume of damp Vermont pine needles on the late night trip back to NH were also highlights. Smelled several skunks, as well - guess they were just as harassed by the heat as we humans were. But I kind of like that prickly scent. (Weird admission...)

I missed my daily call-in to the "unsigned" channel of XM Satellite Radio yesterday, due to a change in vehicles. The good news is I've swapped my miscreant car with a dear friend's, so my touring chalice will be a more reliable, air-conditioned means of transport. This is perhaps the singlemost trust-evident thing a friend can do for you - lend you their car, strings-free, for a 60 day national tour. Ardie, you are my inspiration!

Tonight will be State Number Three - I'm playing the Waterworks Restaurant in Rockland, ME. Obvious jokes about rocking out aside, I am so looking forward to the Maine show. Years of summers spent visiting family at their cottage just outside Bath have placed Maine at the forefront of my childhood memories - climbing rocks, squishing on thick seaweed, collecting hermit crabs and canoeing to islets that sometimes disappeared when the tide rose...

Also, I'm itching for some serious seafood. Will let you know if I end up consuming mussels, clams, or if I cave and spend all my merch money on lobster... (I can't tell you how many times my mom would come home from the market with a bag of clacking, kelp-colored lobsters - often just $4.99 per live pound out here!) ~

Sunday, August 18, 2002

massachussetts, day four

(8/18/02) Barely have a moment to write. Last night's journey into Maine was just shy of perfect - Rockland is a beautiful art-encrusted town, just finished with their legendary Lobster Fest (from which I snagged a poster, thanks to the amazing cashier at The Wine Seller). We ate mussels and lobster rolls at Miller's Lobster Co., right on the water in S. Thomaston... and the show at Waterworks went smoothly.

Now it's off to Boston, for a show at the Somerville Irish hangout, The Burren Pub. Should be kickass - I was born in Boston, so it's always just a little special to play there. After tonight, there will only be 46 states left! It's a little sad... ~

Wednesday, August 21, 2002

new york, day five (day off)

(8/19/02) Today is my last day off for the next 22 days. Spent last night and a healthy portion of today in a posh hotel in Cambridge - Harvard Square. Neutrogena shampoo! That's the mark of goodness, right there.

The Beantown show (at the ever-winsome Burren Pub in Davis Square) was all love, tons of enthusiasm from the crowd. Best audience yet! We'll see if NYC can outdo Boston in the rowdy fan department. My souveniers from MASS are some candy Bos. baked beans, and a losing scratch ticket. Forced myself not to stock up on dozens of jars of Trader Joe's amazing pizza sauce on the way out of town... ~

new york, day six

(8/20/02) Had a beautiful evening off in Brooklyn - actually got some chores done! Really looking forward to tonight's show in the west village (right?) at the Bitter End - legendary rock club. Anything that gets me out of the stiffling heat of my friend's 6th floor apartment is sure to be amazing, though - I actually slept in my car a little this morning because the difference in tempature was over 25 degrees.

By the by (love that phrase), I'm staying with my dear friend Elanit Kayne, the painter and sculptor. For those of you interested in fresh art, take a walk over to her excellent website - www.elanitkayne.com. Her style is kind of like Curious George meets Picasso while "curbing" in some archetypal, seaside town. Lots of found objects, and high levels of color, texture and va-va-voom.

Holy hot tamale, my heart goes out to everyone in NYC who braved the summer without air-conditioning. ~

connecticut, day seven

(8/21/02) Not bad! Representing state number five, New York City offered up a talkative, attentive audience last night. I love answering questions onstage. The sound at the Bitter End is wonderful, and the people that work there are the nicest sort you could ever imagine. Thanks to Jen, Ken, Gabe and Dave for making my life easier.

Had an amazing post-show Thai feast with friends at Wild Ginger, on Christopher (?) between somthing and Bleecker... my NYC geography pales in comparison to my grasp of the US map, at this point. (Also noteable was a lunch at "RICE" with my favorite cousin and filmmaker, Charlotte Glynn - in Brooklyn by the Brooklyn Bridge. Had some serious lemongrass-coconut sorbet, and walked around this great bayside art-park, enjoying it. I highly recommend that place for lunch - totally light, delicious food on the cheap.) Didn't get home last night/ this morning until 3:30AM. Too much fun with visual artists, too many slow trains back to Brooklyn.

Got some fun press-attention in NYC - an interview in the Greenwich Village Gazette, a blurb in the Village Voice, and a teeny mention in Time Out NY. They intimated that my new cd isn't "lively" enough for their tastes - which I found curiously gentle for New York criticism. I think the City's gone soft. (NOTE: There was also a really well-written music feature article about me and the tour in Connecticut's Fairfield Weekly - www.newmassmedia.com - on August 15. Check it out! Picture of me in a tree, and everything.)

It's not so terribly hot today - I can actually wear clothes without wincing. I'm looking forward to getting out of Brooklyn, though, and into the safer zone of Danbury, CT - where my car is less likely to get jacked, and where I'm playing my sixth show tonight. The Colorado Brewery, at 10pm. Hopefully, Charlotte will make this show, too. She filmed last night's Bitter End performance in NYC, and also took some subway-travel footage. Wicked fun, having a camera to gawk at. PBS, here we come! ~

Thursday, August 22, 2002

rhode island, day eight

(8/22/02) Forty-four more! Tonight will be the seventh state, in Warren RI at the Tinker's Nest - an Irish pub. Tomorrow night is Chadds Ford, PA - about 30 minutes outside Philly. If I remember to eat a cheesesteak, I'll be so pleased...

Last night was the Colorado Brewery in Danbury, CT - sort of a warehouse-sized tank, in which one feels she is swimming, rather than playing. Small audience, but lively and lovable. Great Belgian ale. (I only had half a glass - for the vitamins.)

Danbury is where my brother used to live as a bachelor, and as soon as I could drive I would take trips to visit him in his ultra-cool apartment (or so I thought back then). He's about 13 years older than me, and wicked adventurous (a pilot, scuba diver, architect, sketch artist and bar-none photographer) - I still look up to his ass. Hi, Art! For those of you with time, check out samples of his non-portrait photography at arthurharvey.20m.com - and for portraits, check out the rest of my site. Most of the nice publicity photos are his work.

Stayed with my pal Bruce Wingate, of the Danbury punk hilarity, International Brunch Mummies. He's a legendary punk rocker, looks like Tom Waits, and knows EVERYTHING. Library hound. Lounge music lover. Same age as my brother, which is kind of cool since Art used to live here and everything. He tells me Danbury is full of Brazilian folk, and that there was a crazy impromptu parade down Main St. with floats and more - immediately following Brazil's victory in the World Cup. Wish I'd been here then.

The Baltimore Sun has a neat article on me today - written by the very cool Alexa James. Hi, Alexa! This is the link, as of 8/22:
http://www.sunspot.net/features/lifestyle/bal-to.harvey22aug22.story?coll=bal%2Dpe%2Dtoday

Also, a well-written full-pager appeared in the Fairfield Weekly (CT paper) on August 15. Here's the link to that:
http://www.newmassmedia.com/mus.phtml?code=fai&db=mus_pre&ref=21598

I'm looking forward to a small town show tonight - Warren is a tiny place. But I might also get to the beach, which would be lovely. The heat has tapered off a bit, so that only the sunny side of the street is uncomfortable. The Atlantic Ocean just might be warm enough for several of my toes. ~

p.s. My CT souvenir is a nice pint glass... and my NY souvenir is this little business card with a nearly unmentionable picture on it. Something referred to as the "mangina," that an artist friend of a friend created for men to wear. I haven't visited the website, but I believe it is www.themangina.com ~

Monday, August 26, 2002

pennsylvania, day nine

(8/23/02) Wow - State Number Eight was great. I was a little worried I would make it on time - traffic from RI to Chadds Ford, PA (30 minutes South of Philly) was a bear. But I made it, and what a welcome change from the loud pub atmosphere of the Tinker's Nest in RI! I enjoyed the folks at the RI show - but it was noisey. In contrast, the Smithbridge Winery in Chadds Ford had a little old barn for me to play out of, into the surrounding meadow where the audience camped out with cheese and wine from the barrels there.

Great wine, too - and good people. Seven showed up on horseback! I got to take a Chardonnay with me - which was deliciously dry and fresh. Thanks to Geoff and Fran Harrington, and their amazing children. And thanks to audience members like Ed Havey (not Harvey) and his wife, who really listened and laughed with me, and made the show an all-around charmer. Never mind that the only bathroom was a port-o-potty.

I made sure NOT to drop my wallet in. (See tour stats from October 2001, in the archives.)

Tomorrow night should rock, it's Annapolis, MD and the state number 9! ~

maryland, day ten

(8/24/02) Great news! A review of Topography in the Washington Post today. A positive review! Not sure if you can still get to it by the time I post this entry, but I think checking out the Washington Post's website and maybe searchin' with my name would bring it up.

Tonight is my first show in Annapolis, MD - and it seems to be a lovely town! This is the brickin'-est town I've ever seen - completely knocks out Harvard Square (Cambridge, MA), which I thought held the record for the most bricks used in construction and pavement. Everything is quaint colonial, so much so that one expects Ben Franklin to round the corner at any given moment.

(8/24/02 - later) OK. So Maryland has not quite been going my way. First, I'd wanted to spend my free time in the cute naval port of Annapolis eating crabs with a little wooden mallet, and writing in my journal. No dice. The crabs are killer-expensive, and the joints are either too messy or too fancy for journal writing. I settled for cheap sushi (always a positive), and wrote on a bench at the base of the ancient brick-and-wood "State Building." It was a gorgeous day, if a bit muggy.

But the show - oh, the show. It was definately the stinkiest experience yet. The Middleton Tavern is a very expensive attempt at high-class eating and carousing, with a old-boy's-club attitude, civil war artifacts on the walls, and a tiny tiny tiny brass-barred drinking hole for the "bands" to play in.

I opened for the Kevin Kline Band - stand up guys, and the best cover band I've ever heard. But their involvement was the nicest part of the evening. The combo of smoke in a small space, unbelievably loud conversations, and cool stares from the mid-30 to mid-50s crowd made for a rather stifling atmosphere. The bartender was a wicked meanie, especially after he learned that I, a mere girl, am a professional musician ("you mean, you aren't just hiking around the country, trying to hook up with people and places to play in each state?"), and there was a bar fight inches from my nose: two old-enough-to-know-better, otherwise decent-looking guys whaling on this one guy, knocking purses and people and drinks asunder. I had to climb up on the sidebar to avoid getting a flailing fist in the face.

The theme of the evening? Rich white people, behaving badly. The word of the day? Crabby.

But hey, only 41 more states to go! All is well with the world. ~

delaware, day eleven

(8/25/02) Hey, guys - sorry I don't get to publish this journal every day. Your patience moves me.

Well, it's official - Delaware (state # 10) is tied with Pennsylvania for "Best of Tour," and stands in first place for the "Best Complimentary Food & Beverage Offerings" (ie: of the nourishment I haven't had to pay for, DE has provided the tastiest). Tonight's show in Rehoboth Beach, DE, completely made up for the rough-and-tumble affair of the Annapolis show.

Dogfish Head is a wonderful restaurant, and the Dogfish Brewery makes drop-dead amazing beer. Actually, their "Midas Touch" - a mead-y beer - is the reason I played Dogfish instead of any other venue in DE. I read about the beverage in my favorite non-American rag, the Economist, and figured that it had to be the place I was supposed to play. How many mentions does the state of Delaware get in the Economist, on a regular basis? None.

Rehoboth Beach is full of outlets and a fried-and-dyed boardwalk, just like every other Atlantic City/ Murtle Beach/ Ocean City ashtray, but it also seems to double as a nice, small town. The audience got a gold star right off, for applauding the mere mention of my 50 state tour. And I got to eat some CRAB, on a killer "Chesapeake" wood-fired pizza with asparagus, pesto and tomatoes. Yum. Screw Maryland and their expensive whack & crack crabs. (Just kidding, Maryland. I love Baltimore.) Seriously though, if you are in Delaware, make the trip to Dogfish Head. You will thank me. http://dogfish.com ~

new jersey, day twelve

(8/26/02) I'm off to Hoboken, NJ. Wish me luck on State #11, and wish NJ luck in it's pursuit of the new "Best of Tour" title, for which PA and DE are now tied.

Delaware is a hard act to follow. However, never stay at the Heritage Inn in Rehoboth Beach, DE. Unless you are a chronic bed-wetter. They won't let you check out late, and they put plastic pee-proof sheets on every mattress. I don't much care for that crinkle-y plastic feeling, making it's way into my dreams... ~

Tuesday, August 27, 2002

virginia, day thirteen

(8/27/02) I forgot to mention that I had the Philly Cheesesteak experience after my PA show on 8/23 - waited in line at "Pat's" in South Philly at quarter to one in the morning, and was so nervous I would order wrong and be sent to the back of the line. Incidentally, I didn't realize if you wanted onions, you weren't supposed to say "wit onions" - just "wit" - if you wanted onions on your sandwich. But the lady was nice and merely frowned at me. I got my steakie like everyone else.

Drove last night from Hoboken to Arlington, VA, to avoid the horrendous Eastern Corridor/ DC traffic that I most certainly would have died in, if I'd driven today. It's kind of neat, passing through the world silently in the dark and coming up on 4:30am, the cusp of morning, just outside Baltimore. One moment the moon rules the sky - then cars appear next to yours on the highway, and suddenly there's traffic and daylight and birds, all at once.

NJ - state number eleven - put on a good face. Hoboken was very respectable, kind of like Pittsburgh's Southside with a whole lot more money and yuppites. I met a tiny five year old named Alice, selling pink lemonade and cookies - and when I saw her, I got out two dollars, thinking I'd be the crazy generous customer she'd been hoping for all day. Then I looked into the pitcher that held her profits. Folds of bills filled the pot - fives, ones, no change. She probably made more money in one hour on the sidewalk that I did at my show that night.

The Goldhawk Lounge & Bar was quite nice - they are normally closed on Monday, but opened just for my show. Fran, the proprietor, is the first person I've met on the tour who was actually in the Guinness Book of World Records, himself. He's a drummer who contributed to the "Longest Song Recorded" - a tune by Chris Butler, former guitarist for The Waitresses.

Tonight will be my first time playing in Virginia, ever. Looking forward to singing "White Linen Evening" for folks who actually live near Newport News. I'm opening for Alana Davis at the IOTA Club, which looks to be a fun hole in the wall - but I'm a little apprehensive about whatever interaction I may have with Alana. She's my age, almost exactly, so I want her to be cool; but she's a Sony-owned recording artist, and there's a serious danger of her having a disproportionate ego or mean streak. So far, the only people who've actually been mean on this trip are A) the mechanics in New Hampshire who wanted my first born-child in exchange for a working car, and B) that bartender in Annapolis, MD.

I'm sure all will be fine. Oh - one more thing.

I'm staying with friends, Cris & Erin, in Arlington, and they are away at jobs in Washington, DC, and have left me with keys to their apartment. And all I need to do is laundry, besides sleep and take a walk. So I hunt around for the mini-M&M's case that I keep quarters in, and I can't find it. Even though I KNOW I've brought it up with me, I can't locate the little green tube with the tight-fitting lid that Hershey seems to have made precisely for people who need quarters to do their laundry.

There is a chance I lost it in transit. So I head downstairs to the car to search out my little green tube. It's not in the car. I'm so bummed - how do I let myself lose things? This happens all the time - mainly with my wallet, which is a horror.

And then, oh, there it is, hiding on the car seat. Happiness. I grab a bag of presents to wrap out of the back, lock the car, head back to the building, and I don't have the keys. To the building. Where are the keys to the apartment that Cris and Erin, at their important jobs in our nation's capitol, left me? I check the car - they are NOT hiding on the car seat. They have not fallen under the car, nor atop the car, nor into the backseat/glove compartment/empty triscuits box. They have not materialized in my pocket, nor in my hand. They are gone. I left them in the apartment. I KNOW I did. Nevermind that I thought I had them in my hand... but didn't I? I'm not sure. I am not sure of anything.

What am I doing in Arlington, anyway? I'm in my pajamas, working on five hours of sleep, trying to get quarters - at least I still have those - for my dirty laundry upstairs in the apartment that belongs to Cris and Erin, at their respectable jobs in DC.

I beg the office people to let me in, and they call Cris who confirms that I am her friend (this feels nice) and that I should not be left in the hallway. I am let into the apartment, where my dirty laundry greets me with all the reproach that dirty laundry can muster. There are no keys on the kitchen table, no keys on the coffee table, no keys on the floor by the door or by my guitars or even in my dirty laundry bag. I have lost the keys to Cris and Erin's apartment, entirely.

And I look into the bag of presents I grabbed out of the back of the car at the last minute, hoping that spools of ribbon and festive wrapping paper and various gifties for my beloved at home will cheer me, and there are the apartment keys.

I'm not sure I'm conveying, but I mean for this story to illustrate exactly why one should have an entourage. ~

Friday, August 30, 2002

west virginia, day fourteen

(8/28/02) West Virginia astounds me, with greenest greenery and windy roads to make even a spinning spider sick at the wheel. A cloudy day, but not gloomy - the grey puffs look surprised to see that their backdrop is an otherwise bright sky. Occasional sprinkles once I leave VA...

Kingwood, home of Monroe's Restaurant and General Store, is a 3000 person delight of a town. Their major attraction - Buckwheat Pancakes. I have the world's best grilled shrimp spinach salad, and enjoy an audience from as far away as Pittsburgh and Morgantown. A true highlight of the tour, and the 13th state goes by without so much as a black cat hitch. ~

north carolina, day fifteen

(8/29/02) A teeny, tiny audience, that talks back and has what I imagine to be a hard time hearing my lyrics over the coffee grinder, espresso machine, and loud 16-year-olds chatting it up over the local newspaper. For the other singer/songwriters out there, reading this - don't you feel a tiny zing of regret every time you realize you've agreed to play at a coffeeshop for the umpteenth time? Yeah, well, in spite of myself, I had a lovely evening. Carrboro, NC is the greatest artsy town, the shadow sister of Chapel Hill. Rock on, North Carolina, state number 14. May we all find that place in ourselves where we feel "first in flight." ~

south carolina, day sixteen

(8/30/02) Wish the rain would stop. Wish there weren't crotchety male librarians out to make me cry when I want to get on the internet without a library card in Anderson, SC. Glad there are nice women named Jocelyn to let me use their library cards at the last moment, even if the computer I'm put on is a crashing artifact from the early eighties.

Am playing Doni's Under The Trees tonight, and damn looking forward to it. Can't wait to ask my sweet-tea swigging audience which state was the first to secede, South Carolina (state number 15 on my tour) or Georgia (state number 16)? That will determine where I buy my Confederate Flag souvenir - something I feel compelled to do, but have mixed feelings about doing. I am fascinated with that symbol; it conveys (to me) intense evil and a shameful past, and yet still symbolizes southern pride to some. I'm most certainly NOT going to wear or display said Confederate Flag anywhere on my person or belongings, ever. But I think it's an appropriate souvenir from the South. A reminder that words, symbols, still have great power.

Sidenote: Anyone ever heard of the band, Confederate Fag? I did not make them up. ~

Sunday, September 01, 2002

georgia, day seventeen

(8/31/02) Good fun in South Carolina last night, with the gals behind the bar at Doni's, in Anderson. A little old lady finds out I'm touring alone, and tells me, "Honey, get a gun." (Imagine a heavy southern accent.) "Get a guhn, and put it in you-ah glove compahtment." I laugh.

Turns out SC was the first to secede during the Civil War... and it's also the last state in the Union to utilize "mini bottles" in bars, instead of normal bottles. They don't allow the "free pour" system we're used to everywhere else - so each drink has exactly the correct amount of alchohol, and it's harder for bartenders to give free drinks or to tip up. My SC souvenir? A tiny bottle (or nip, as my mom calls it) of Southern Comfort.

Tonight's show was at Whitfield's in Waycross, in the fair state of Georgia - definately the smokiest bar yet and the buzzin'est sound system, but real nice people. Stand up folks, in fact. I will be adding this venue to my normal tour schedule. I sold completely out of my "Fifty State Tour" tshirts! Hopefully I'll have some more by state 21, Tennessee. (At least, I think TN is the 21st state... things are truly getting a little hazy around the edges.)

Am driving to FL tonight - it's only 80 miles or so to Jacksonville, where I play my 17th show tomorrow at 2pm. ~

florida, day eighteen

(9/1/02) So-so show this afternoon in Jacksonville - at Borders. Can't wait for Mobile, Alabama, tomorrow; I'm playing a Labor Day show at the University of South Alabama. The 18th state - I'm so thrilled to be more than one-third of the way through with the tour, and having a BALL. ~

Tuesday, September 03, 2002

alabama, day nineteen

(9/2/02) Day of mishaps. Not only did I introduce a song at the 18th show (University of South Alabama) with the wrong title, but I also told the audience that lovely Alabama was state number 17. Minor mistakes, I suppose - but I've also lost my laptop to the sun. It won't work, and thus I am going to have to keep my entries super short for a few days, as I navigate the brief and often hostile territory of our nation's public libraries. All my belongings - including guitars - sweat when moved from airconditioned car to un-airconditioned outdoors, and yet I'm delighted to be in the first state of the tour that I've never been in before - Alabama. I still can't figure out what Spanish Moss is - is it the furry vine that grows on outstretched tree limbs, or that grey stuff that hangs in shawls from leafy branches?

Alabama is called the "Yellowhammer State." No one can tell me why. ~

louisiana, day twenty

(9/3/02) I'm on Harry Potter #2, the audio cassette version, working my way backward through the series I guess. This is my first time ever in New Orleans - will get back to you on the state of gumbo and jazz in this creole capitol of painted ladies and sway-backed sax players. Tonight's show at the Mermaid Lounge is the 19th show - and LA is state number 19. Tomorrow, I'll hit the whopping two-oh, in Jackson, MS. Another first-time-ever state for me. Mississippi was the first state I learned to spell, though. "M-I-S-S-I-S-S..." etc. I just spelled it, so I have nothing to prove. Am still a little confused every time I try to write Conn., though. Lord love the abbreviation, my favorite of all language tools.

In other news, I haven't been able to phone the XM Radio people since Virginia. I hope the three people who currently have satellite radio units aren't worried. ~

Thursday, September 05, 2002

mississippi, day twenty-one

(9/4/02) Ug. All I wanted to do was get out of New Orleans this morning. The show at the Mermaid Lounge last night was tardy (I didn't get to play until 11 or so), smokey, and a little horrible - but otherwise fine. I ran into a friend from high school, oddly enough, who was running sound for the band who played after. That was neat. Nonetheless, the night took a turn for the worse once I'd packed up my goods and began working on the bartender to get the Guinness paperwork done. I started to feel incredibly, uncommonly ill. I was wearing ear plugs, and yet the band seemed to be getting louder and louder and more and more intolerable. (They were actually pretty good - moody as all hell, but very atmospheric.)

Headachy, nauseous, and exhausted, I managed to make it back to my friend's house before revisiting the lovely meal I'd had in the French Quarter (six hours before). The sickness was super-sudden, super-horrible, and left me weak as a drowned kitten. My hosts attributed my affliction to the pesticides they've apparently been spraying over the city of New Orleans, to ward off West-Nile skeeters. I guess it's been making a lot of locals feverish and headachy, too.

So, long story short, it was a very unpleasant cap on an otherwise cheery introduction to New Orleans. To backtrack a little, I did manage to walk St. and sample the local cuisine at the Gumbo Shop. I had a nice glass of some Sonoma Valley Fume Blanc, this amazing Turtle Soup (with sherry on the side for flavor), and a little Crawfish Remoulade. All sopped up with a french baguette the size of my forearm.

I walked to the Mississippi River and took a look, stopping on the way back to purchase a little purple masquerade mask, the obligatory strings of beads, and some Lou-siana hot sauce. It felt very nice to be in New Orleans for the first time. The buildings are just as I imagined them: old, close together, pastel and brick and covered in dark-colored, door-sized shutters that open onto the narrow, one-way streets.

And, in all fairness, I did have a redeeming, post-hurl experience on the way up to Jackson this morning. Stopped for gas in Pontachoula, LA, and snagged some fried okra. Not my first time with this strange, stalk-like veggie - but I felt I needed some before Natchez. It was just a teensy bit spicy, perfectly crispy - bright green on the inside, with large, round seeds - and flavorful. Didn't need ketchup. I know, I know - after a serious night of retching, I shouldn't have tempted fate with fried food from a gas station. But I SO could not resist. And I was rewarded! At least I'm keeping it down.

Haven't seen any low-flying pesticide planes here in Mississippi. Will be staying in my hotel room until showtime, though - just in case. ~

tennessee, day twenty-two

(9/5/02) Today, I'm feeling downright bouncy. Swam about in the little outdoor pool at my hotel in Jackson, tried all the cable channels to find out who won the American Idol contest-thingie last night (does anyone know? I liked Kelly...), and made fervent use of my in-room microwave - just because I could.

Still a bit worried about stomach issues, but not worried enough to avoid the Rendezvous BBQ, my dinner destination in Memphis (state number 21). Nothing can keep this away from authentic local food. I'm also told that the Peabody hotel is good for ducks in the afternoon - they come waddling down from somewhere, and it's supposed to a world-reknowned event. Regardless, I'm determined to at least glimpse Graceland, and wallow in the land of Elvis - who died about a month before my birth.

Last night in Jackson - state number 20 - was a calm, low-key follow up to the Mermaid Lounge (the memory of which is still swirling around somewhere in my head). A nice coffeehouse, featuring nice and talkative college students.

Mississippi wins the prize so far for the Most Hospitable State." They've got these great information rest stops, where they serve you free fountain drinks, and the old ladies smile at you with the sweetest southern wrinkles. And the librarians here actually went out of their way to be nice to "that from Wisconsin." MS is the Magnolia State. Also the first place in the US where I've met someone who actually knows where Wichita Falls, TX, is. Educated folks.

By the way, the answer to the Alabama "yellowhammer" mystery is this: the yellowhammer is a European finch, and must be common to AL. Go figure. ~

Monday, September 09, 2002

kentucky, day twenty-three

(9/6/02) "It doesn't suck." This is the highest compliment a Kentuckian can give, according to Kiya, (of the folk duo, Wishing Chair - they live in KY, and are absolutely wonderful live - www.terrakin.com).

There is an odd castle on the side of the road, as I drive into Lexington. This castle is technically in the city of Versailles, which is pronounced "ver-sails" by the locals. I find out later that the property is up for sale, and have fun dreaming about buying a castle in Kentucky. What for? Who cares! It's a castle. In Kentucky.

Lexington is the "horse capitol of the world," and Man-O-War, the greatest race horse of all time, is buried here. I love this city - its southern charm, willowy shade, hospitable & walkable downtown, and fine folk. I take a stroll before my show (note the southern hint in that word, "stroll"). Buy a bottle of "Ale-8," this super-charged soda made only in KY. It's caffinated to the nines, and tastes like Ginger Beer. Everyone I ask says they love it.

The show is at Natasha's Cafe, and there was a write-up in the Lexington Herald Leader, so a crowd forms. Good food, nice people. Cushions on the stage. The warm smell of Turkish coffee wafting invitingly from candle-lit tables.

Afterward, I chat with someone who's been reading this diary. Yay! Apparently, Spanish Moss IS that grey, hanging stuff. And we deduced that the fuzzy vine-stuff filling out the bark of low stretching pecan and walnut trees is, indeed, kudzu. I was reluctant to make that assumption at first, because the leaves were so tiny - but the reason for the small leaves is the universal drought throughout the south. It all makes sense now. So - hanging vines are kudzu, hanging grey shawls are Spanish Moss.

State number 22 is through! Tomorrow I head further north and seriously EAST to Cleveland, but I can't help hearing Horace Greeley in my head. Maybe because it's so hot and dry everywhere (is it cooler than 90 degrees anywhere in this country?), or maybe because Kentucky is full of horses, tossing and snorting, as I drive out of Lexington... but all I can think is cactus, desert, cowgirls. Sunsets.

"Go west, young [wo]man." ~

ohio, day twenty-four

(9/7/02) I have failed in the quest for an Ohio souvenir. If someone has the perfect idea of what that should be, please email and berate me. I could neither find nor think of anything, in spite of several promising truck stops.

Tonight's show was at the very quaint and rather nice Barking Spider Tavern. Folks from Pittsburgh showed up, and made me feel very squishy. The DBC (Delicate Balance Coalition) played afterward, but I couldn't stay to listen. I'm spending what's left of the night in Columbus, Ohio's capitol - but I have to be up at dawn to make Indianapolis in time for my early afternoon show in the 24th state.

No rest in the heartland. ~

indiana, day twenty-five

(9/8/02) Indianapolis, IN: state number 24, a perfect, restful stop between the smokey depths of Cleveland and Detroit. I played for an absolutely delightful, tiny, Sunday-afternoon crowd at the Cath Inc. - Coffee And Tea House. Purportedly, Edie Carey says that playing the Cath is like playing to "a warm hug." She is dead on.

On a somber note, I listened to a rebroadcast of Prarie Home Companion this morning - it was a collage of past shows they've done in New York, to celebrate the city in light of the first anniversary of 9/11. I liked what Garrison Keiler had to say, about not having any new words to contribute to the tomes that have been written, aired, and recorded since that day. I feel the same way - that my silence is the most respectful gift I have to offer those who were lost.

On the way out of Indianapolis, I notice a billboard that becomes the oddity of the day. Two black buisness suit-clad executives, a woman and a man, proclaim in large bold print and in front of a bright yellow background, "Our plumber will smell good and show up on time, or we'll pay you!" Perhaps this is an Indiana specialty, the downy-fresh plumber who shows up to snake your toilet at exactly half-past-two, instead of next week at ten.

The drive from Indiana to Michigan is my first deliberate trek into the Mitten state (it looks like a mitten, doesn't it?)... and a sign greets me. "Welcome to Michigan. Great lakes, great times."

But no great-smelling plumbers? ~

michigan, day twenty-six

(9/9/02) To celebrate my 25th birthday today, I'd planned to get a shi-shi hotel room in Detroit, a nice pedicure & massage (which would cost me less than $60, in my fantasy, and would come complete with a pliant masseuse who would agree to scratch my back instead), and an excellent Ethiopian meal. But, as it turns out, I cannot afford the Motel 6 in Detroit (let alone a Courtyard Marriott with a little honor bar in the room and in-house spa services), and every Ethiopian restaurant from Ann Arbor to Dearborn is closed on Mondays.

Instead I am smiling in Ann Arbor, eating Easy Mac and updating my "blog." Did you know this, that a daily online-journal is called a blog? (Short for web-log.) It's an oddly frumpy word. Blog.

Later, I'll play at the Town Pump in downtown 'Troit, and will officially be half-way through the tour. And I will be wearing my little bottlecap necklace, an early birthday present from Hannah in Kentucky. (thank you, Hannah!) On one side, it has this little picture of Ganesh, the Hindi god of prosperity, who is always laughing and having a ball - and who is invariably depicted as an elephant. The other side plainly says Suncrest Orange Soda.

Today is definately an "orange" day. Wish me love and forget-me-nots, Virgo-heads! ~

Monday, September 16, 2002

stand by

major computer difficulties! i am still alive - there are entries for each wacky show through Wisconsin (9/14/02)... but i am having to deal with a dead laptop and minus 14 hours of free time to perform the ressurection ceremony (ie: I can't fix it alone, and haven't had a moment to do so yet). please don't stop loving me! i love you. don't forget it.

all entries through today should be posted tomorrow. cross fingers, toes, and earlobes. ~

Tuesday, September 17, 2002

chicago, day twenty-seven

(9/10/02) Chicago is a great town. All my love to Detroit, but Chi-town beats it down. I didn't even get lost on the way to the show, I enjoyed listening to my new friend Stolie play an opening set, and I got to play a little with my pal Joe Chellman, jazz percussionist from God. The Elbo Room was somewhat bright in the stage lights department, and in spite of the Sun-Times article, the audience was very very small... but a good time was had by all.

Tomorrow is my first day off in 22 days. I don't even know what to do with myself. I think I'll try to avoid watching TV, since there's bound to be non-stop coverage of tears on the first anniversary of 9/11.

Maybe I'll do laundry, pack for Alaska (!!!), find out when the new season of Buffy starts, and - I know! - pretend I'm not a musician. That's always good fun.

p.s. Only 24 more states to go. I wanted to think of a little rhyme, like "26 from door to door, now there's 24 more..." or something. But I'm not creative. ~

alaska, day thirty

(9/13/02) It is so quiet here. After getting very little sleep today (thanks to four inteviews and a seemingly endless stream of phone calls - some to my hotel room phone, even, though how people got that number I will never know), I took a big walk around Anchorage. Gorgeous day - almost 50 degrees. Some blue sky visible to the west. And so very very quiet.

It took me three bounces to get up here - one flight from Madison to Minneapolis, one from Minneapolis to Seattle, and the last from SEATAC to Anchorage. I met some incredible law officers on the middle hop - Jess and Carla. They were at honor guard camp in the Twin Cities, and were bringing home their new knowledge to the rest of their police force. I can't stress how cool these ladies were - I might go on a "ride-along" with Jess when I'm up in Seattle, in October. Fun stuff! The best part is that she's only 2 years older than me - and a cop. How can that be? I am amazed.

The funnest thing about Jess and Carla was their parlance - for example, they kept using the term "stand by" in their conversation. As in: "Hey, what was that guy's name who kept wearing that Packers sweatshirt? Greg? No, stand by... Jeff!" So funny. I'm not sure it comes across in this journal, but it was worth a try.

It smells different here, in Anchorage. I walked to the ocean, but there was only a smell of wet dog - no salt, no kelp, no sand smells. And there's a definate woodsmoke smell - but it's heavily laced with mustard, somehow. And the scent of chewable vitamin C.

Speaking of, I just had a "reindeer sausage." It's sort of a hot dog thing, that you get at a street corner stand designed to kill tourists. The vendor tried to tell me it was 99% fat free, which was, of course, a blatant lie crafted out of the thin mountainous air to ensnare my $3.50. I bought one anyway. If you are going to visit Anchorage, you've got to eat some reindeer. It was pretty tasty, though I doubt I was really savoring the 'deer for all the spices... and the kraut and relish and mustard.

An interviewer today asked me a series of 50 questions - sort of a take off on the 50 state tour, I guess - and one was "if you were a hot dog, would you eat yourself?" She also asked me for my favorite smell, and when I started describing that first whiff of Autumn - leaves just piling up, snow just around the corner - she patiently reminded me that she was from Arizona. Couldn't relate. For those of you interested in reading her "50 Question Interview" thingie, it should be published in the Arizona State newspaper (ASU) sometime next/this week... I'm a little hazy on the details.

Tonight's show should be fun stuff. I'm delighted to be back in Alaska, state number 27, especially with this new album in tow. It was recorded mostly in Fairbanks. ~

wisconsin, day thirty-one

(9/14/02) Dead tired from the planeride back from Alaska. Slept through any turbulence, but still managed to sneak a blurred peek or two at that veiny quilt that is the aerial view of the Northwest. All those gorgeous little farms, in neat geometric shapes dictated by the spindley irrigation systems... It's not as easy to see forest fires from the air by day - but I saw several in Montana and Idaho on the trip from Minneapolis to Seattle, yesterday (two days ago? I've lost track - where am I?).

The show last night was quiet - like Anchorage in the daytime. But the audience was nice, if quiet, and someone came all the way down from Fairbanks to see the show! (That's an 8 hour drive, I'm told, if you obey the speed limit.) I hopped on the plane at 2 this morning, feeling very much like a soggy piece of sandpaper.

We shall see what sleep-deprived horrors come out of my mouth tonight, at Cafe Montmartre in Madison, WI - state number 28 and my only official CD Release Party for "Topography." Looks like I got a little nod in the Onion, which is always special. Love the cover story for this week - George Bush won't stop asking Cheney if it's time to bomb Iraq yet, or something. ~

Wednesday, September 18, 2002

missouri, day thirty-four

(9/17/02) Don't be fooled - Missouri was only state number 29. I just had a couple days to myself - to get over Anchorage jetlag and to collect the pieces of my brain - and now I'm back. Am sitting in the homey Westport Coffeehouse in Kansas City, where I just played my Missouri show. Met two Robs: one, a hotel service worker from Holland, and the other, a thoughtful, middle-aged deadhead who's sitting behind me right now, reading this book called "The Chip" (about microchips, I think). Nice people in Missouri. The Show Me State. Apparently, that's about Missourians wanting proof before they buy into anything. I can relate - or, at least, Guinness can.

The whole MO side of Kans. Cit. seems nice and quiet - but this is the first state I really feel like I've neglected, because I narrowly made it here in time for the show and I'm driving tonight as far as I can stand it toward Little Rock, Arkansas (state number 30).

Was ruminating a bunch on the way here, about sleeping in the "car." This always happens when I pass several tasty looking RVs. I love RVs. If I ever get married, my ideal honeymoon is one month in an RV with my honee. I want an RV with a REALLY BIG WINDOW in the back. That's my main criteria. I still can't decide between an all-inclusive RV, or one that has to ride on the back of a pickup. There are benefits to both.

So. While I wait for my marriage fantasy to materialize, I am satisfied with sleeping in the back of my tour vehicle. (I shouldn't be telling you this. I have this idiotic confidence in your normalcy that's, like, so not based in the reality of the world wide web.) Sleeping in the "car" is like camping, with no bugs and little more security. I've always loved cubby holes and small spaces - and the car becomes my own little nook, my private, curtained hideaway. (Funny thing, I'm playing two "Hideaways" on this tour - one in Tempe AZ and the other in Lincoln NE.) I used to hang out in the trunk on the way to my grandmother's house at Christmastime, both my parents in the front seats, talking quietly and leaving me alone with my Battle Beasts and stuffed animals... whatnot. They had a hatchback, so it wasn't as claustrophobic and negligent as it sounds. And I had my down comforter (my "puff") back there to cushion me from any hard stops.

OK - I am fresh out of tangents. Time to hit the road, then the foam pad in the trunk. ~

P.S. FORGIVE any incorrectly-spelled words. I am laptop-less, and at the mercy of this simple internet service called Blogger, which doesn't help out with spelling. ~

Saturday, September 21, 2002

arkansas, day thirty-five

(9/18/02) My first time in this Clinton-bearing state. State number 30! Seems like Little Rock is a nice town, and Sticky Fingerz is a really dynamic, beautifully decorated hub of social wackiness. Great folks, a super stage and sound system, and an atmosphere as friendly and close as the humid night outside.

I'm bracing myself; this is the most disorienting segment of the whole tour. I knew this was going to happen - all these cities named for states and such. Last night I was in Kansas City, MISSOURI, tonight I'm in Little Rock, ARKANSAS... but tomorrow night it will be ARKANSAS City, KANSAS, and that's where I'm going to forget my name. At least I have the rock-solid, unmistakable Oklahoma City, Oklahoma to ground me on the 20th... but I'm sleeping with the road atlas under my pillow tonight. ~

kansas, day thirty-six

(9/19/02) There are two kinds of towns in the US - those where folks wave to each other, and those where folks do not. Arkansas City, Kansas, is definately the former. Nearly every person I've passed here has brought up their hand for me, a total stranger. Little Rock was like that, too - which kind of surprised me, it being such a big city and all.

So, Arkansas City is pronounced "our Kansas City." But how do people in Ark City pronounce the Arkansas River? In Little Rock, of course, it's just the "ark-kansas river." These are the things I ponder in the car, when the radio's off.

Tonight's show in Kansas was great - Browne's is a general-type store on the city's main drag, that offers monthly concerts in the coffee-shop section of the store. A beautiful little stage area with local paintings was where I played, for a rather decent audience of 30 or 40. In spite, I'm told, of the Walnut Valley Festival going on this weekend. I was a little nervous about all the old folks who were there to listen, but they all came up afterward to shake and tell me how much they enjoyed themselves. Either they didn't hear the dirty words, or they are progressive as hell in Arkansas City.

I've got another mini show tomorrow morning at Cowley County Community College - should be in the open air, if the weather comes out of the broody, indecisive mood it was cultivating all day. (Kansas and Hawaii are the only states where I'm playing more than one show.) Then it's off to Oklahoma City, for state number 32. The jury's still out on whether or not I've ever been to Oklahoma. ~

oklahoma, day thirty-seven

(9/20/02) My heart is broken. Damned "Grapes of Wrath" audio in the car, blurs up the road while I'm driving. It's eerie to be in Oklahoma, the center of all that grief in the 30's. Feels as though I'm driving and camping on the road right alongside the Jodes.

Okies. Dust Bowl. Jalopes. I ate steak tonight with my friends at this Cattleranch Steakhouse place in Ok City, and couldn't help thinking how my meal would have fed a whole family out of work in one of those Southern California Hoovervilles.

Best we can do is try not to take things for granted, I guess. ~

p.s. I looked and looked in Kansas, behind every house I saw - but I did not see one long trap door. You know, the kind that would lead a family down to root-cellar safety during a tornado? None. Does no one care about twisters anymore? Or did basements erase the need for underground shelters? There were a load of sheds out back of each house - maybe the trap doors were hiding under those. Oh, well, Toto, maybe Kansas just ain't what it was. ~

texas, day thirty-eight

(9/21/02) "That's right, you're not from Texas - Texas wants you, anyway!" (This Lyle Lovett song has been in my head since Georgia, swear to god.)

Hard to believe I'm going to be in Colorado Springs tomorrow night. The first really Big Drive. It's 721 miles, from Wichita Falls (tonight's Texas stop) to the Colorado show. I'm hoping the trek will bond me to Texas, not make me want to tear my hair.

Last night's show in Oklahoma City at the Blue Door Music Hall was one of the funnest yet - don't know why. Maybe it was the two cans of beer before the show, or the tiny, jolly audience, or Greg, the man behind the Blue Door, a generally good guy. There was some gal in the front row for half of the show, smiling and nodding and taking notes, and a couple very drunk women who were singing along... an almost full moon, and just about the nicest night weather you could ask for in Oklahoma. Slept like a baby last night, too, at Lizzi & Matt's (friends from college). Their lawn is made up of this odd, crawling green growth - prarie grass? It's not St. Augustine, but it ain't no regular sod. Any ideas?

Apparently, Oklahoma's beginnings were less than virtuous. "Thieves, cheaters and liars," says Greg of the people who molded the state. I'm told that the capitol didn't used to be Oklahoma City - but that the state seal was stolen at gunpoint from wherever it used to set, and brought triumphantly to rest here. I also heard lamentation about the state's current capital punishment record. According to some, Oklahoma is racing with its southern neighbor to chalk up the most executions.

Texas is state number 33. Gotta find a second to buy me a cowboy hat. I just didn't feel right getting one in Oklahoma, although I did see REAL cowboys on my way out of the steakhouse last night, in Ok. City. I'm told you can tell a real cowboy from a falsie, if he is sporting the following things: a hat (of course), creased Wranglers, spurs on his boots, and a purse, instead of a wallet.

Will be keeping my eyes peeled tonight! ~

Monday, September 23, 2002

colorado, day thirty-nine

(9/22/02) Wowzer. The drive from Wichita Falls was long. I slept in the vehicle, and barely made it in time for the show tonight at Acoustic Coffee Lounge, an excellent confusion between coffee shop and martini bar, located in the god-like Colorado Springs. It was a very fun show - they just don't make audiences like those everywhere. I could hear a pin drop in Saigon, that's how quiet and attentive they were.

Last night was quite the opposite in Texas - the show at the Iron Horse Pub in Wich. Falls was me, opening for a metal cover band called "Head Thorn." I walked in on their sound check, and had to check twice to make sure I was in the right venue. The guys in the band were actually super people (we dubbed Head Thorn 'texas death-folk', and had a few good chortles over that). Everyone I met there was just stand-up nice, actually. Danny, Dano, Melanie, Steve, Jeff the Yani-loving sound man who toured for a while with Depeche Mode (wow), Ian... Made a gal proud to be in Texas.

At any rate, I lit out right after my set was finished (and after I'd listened to a few White Zombie and Led Zepplin covers that brought back the old days), and you know the rest.

Now it's off to bed at Kelly and Audra's condo in Manitou Springs, CO, before tomorrow's long-awaited trip to New Mexico. ~

new mexico, day forty

(9/23/02) This is the state I've been waiting all tour for, the "Most-Anticipated State On The Fifty State Tour" - state number 35.

This is my first time ever in New Mexico (well, since the drive from Wichita Falls through to Colorado Springs, yesterday). And Santa Fe does not disappoint; it is completely unlike any place I've ever been. All the buildings are low and shaped like building blocks out of red and burnt orange clay. This is an amazing city - if I could have one prayer answered on this whole tour, it would be that tonight's show at the Cowgirl Hall of Fame BBQ Grill place lives up to the incredibleness of the rest of the day in this beautiful oasis.

Weather is cool, about 62 degrees, and the bright blue Georgie O'Keefe sky is smeared with friendly pulls of cotton cloud. The librarians here are SO nice! I get to print out 10 pages for free. Can you believe? I have to run and save my car from a parking ticket - forgive me for not adding Colorado's journal entry until a bit later? There is much to tell, so stay tuned...

I can say with certainty - and a little woe - that the southwest has been the most eventful leg of the tour so far. ~

Wednesday, September 25, 2002

arizona, day forty-one

(9/24/02) Well, last night's show was a sort of repeat of Wichita Falls, without the good sound quality. I met a zillion nice folks - including Scott the carpenter, who gave me directions to his little "casita" in Madrid, NM, so I could crash on a bed for the night. But I have to say, there was this Spanish dude - Boris - who really wore me out. In general, I get worn out when I can't hear myself over the bar din and have to perform anyway - but this guy pushed me to the edge. He was one of those in-denial hecklers - the kind that talks nice, but is so unbelievably loud that you want to crawl into a dark corner and pull a table cloth over your head. He was an Antonio Banderas wannabe, but man, I hope Antonio has more manners than this guy. He was all but howling at the moon.

The weather in Santa Fe was cool and refreshing at night - and I had two margaritas to wash down my buffalo burger at the Cowgirl Grill. Apparently, the Cowgirl Hall of Fame (where I played) isn't really the Cowgirl Hall of Fame anymore - technically, they split from their sister pub in Austin Texas, and no longer have the whole "Hall of Fame" thing to boast about. But I don't know, there was some vagueness attached. Whatever. It was a nice pub/restaurant, kind of corraled in by bright reds and yellows and browns, and plastered with pictures of cowgirls doing just about everything you could imagine. Everyone there wore a cowboy hat, and it was sort of... festive. But loud.

ANYWAY - tonight I'm playing Nita's Hideaway in Tempe, Arizona (state number 36! it really feels like I'm knocking 'em down now), and man, do I recommend the drive from Flagstaff to Phoenix. Gorgeous. So far, the most enjoyable rides have been CO-NM-AZ. And for some reason, time seems to have elongated. Oklahoma City seems like years ago... I guess because this is the part of the tour I was most looking forward to, and I'm trying to absorb so much of the southwest.

I am, finally, a little tired. Maybe it's the elevation? Looking forward to a peaceful nap at my cousin Travis's house in Mesa tonight.

I'm going to be on Car Talk tomorrow morning! It's just a taping - the show won't be on the radio for about 10 days, but it should air the week of October 5 (starting with that Saturday on some NPR stations). I can't wait! Will report back about Click & Clack when I have a second in Honolulu - I probably won't have time to post before my Los Angeles show tomorrow night. ~

california, day forty-two

(9/25/02) Ok, I do have a second. The Arizona show did not live up to Texas or Colorado, but it offered much better sound than New Mexico. Cheese-and-rice! (That's my pal Bruce's substitute for Jevus Rice... or whatever you say to avoid cursing the sweet savior... Joking! I'm joking... been on this lord-in-heaven kick...) No real audience to speak of though, no offense to my dear cousin Trav and his ladyfriend. And the very dear guys behind the bar and in the sound booth and at the door. Everyone in Arizona seems to be named "Nick," a name that's just too sexy for me to handle. Gotta be moving on...

C&C of Car Talk were very helpful with my query about oil - and they were pretty amused by the Fifty State Tour thing. My dad will be delighted: they made a Tom Lehrer reference when they found out I'm a folksinger-person-unit. Listen to your NPR station the week of October 5th! I'm the third caller on the show.

All cacti aside, I've got to get to LA before I fall over. (I'm still pretty tired.) Word has it that Los Angeles is all full of smoke, due to some extreme and uncontrollable forest fire in the San Gabrielle Mountains. There's a severe health warning out: "limit your outdoor activity," due to small particles in the valley's air that can lodge in your lungs and do permanent damage. I'm not yet sure how that differs from the norm in Los Angeles, but I'm on it. Goin' in with my hanky to my nose and my eye on the sky.

p.s. Today is the anniversary of Sandra Day O'Connor's induction as a Supreme Court Judge - the first woman ever in that position. She was appointed in 1983, I believe. ~

Friday, September 27, 2002

hawaii, day forty-four

(9/27/02) Aloha! Yesterday was my day off, and I spent it in Hawaii. I am feeling quite refreshed. The day started off alright, with three empty seats on the plane for me to stretch out on. The flight from Los Angeles to Honolulu is 6 hours, and the plane left at 8am. That meant I had to get up at 5am, and I didn't get to bed the night before until 1:30pm (due to my late night at Genghis Cohen - the California venue in L.A.).

So, Hawaii is the state number 38, and boy am I glad I didn't leave this to the end. I SO needed a little island getaway in the middle of my tour. Hawaii is the only other state besides Kansas where I'm playing two shows, and I just finished the first one this morning. In truth, I was a little nervous about playing here, because the local scene in so popular, and Hawaiian music is all the island's inhabitants and visitors seem to want to hear. Not to mention the fact that Hawaiians are very musical - most sing extremely well, and can play at least one instrument. (Also, don't know how to play the ukulele, which is properly pronounced oo-koo-lay-lay, and people here do. That amazes me.)

Nevertheless, at 10:30am, I played Kapi'Olani Community College in Honolulu, the capitol of Hawaii (located on the island of Oahu). It was actually a great show, as most morning shows oddly are. The students were quiet and friendly and seemed to enjoy my kooky mainlander antics. And no one came up to me to complain that I wasn't playing slide guitar.

Things I have learned in Hawaii, The Aloha State:

1. They actually say "aloha" here to one another! I always thought that was just for show, but it's really part of a Hawaiian's parlance.

2. A sea turtle is called "honu" - pronounced ho-new. I swam with one yesterday in Hanauma bay, on the east side of the island of Oahu. Had my snorkel gear (rented from Snorkel Bob's), and was nosing around the reefs when I spotted him, flapping along slowly and poking his briney, splotchy head up for air about once every three minutes. We swam around for a while, until I got sidetracked by a 5-foot Whitemouth Moray Eel (brownish-purple with tiny white spots, it's thick, ribbon-like snake - with a narrow snout that can bite nastily). The verdict on snorkeling in Hawaii? Water is murky from the surf, but the sea life is just as fertile and amazing as in the Caribbean. Oddly enough, the fish are very similar. There are even dolphins to be seen, if you are lucky.

3. I am a "haoli" - pronounced howl-ee. Means 'white-ass person from the mainland.'

4. Hawaiians don't miss a trick. You know those little coffeemakers that you find in a hotel room? Well, they have those here - but if you want coffee and filters to use, you have to pay $3.50 to the conceirge. Crafty.

5. Spam is big here. If I get up early enough, I can go to the 7-11 and get some "musubi" - moo-sue-bee. Sort of a spam nigiri, spam on top of a little patch of white sushi rice. George Higa says the best way to make this is to take a thin slice of spam, fry it on both sides in the pan so it's nice and crispy, and then eat it like a sandwich between two patties of white rice. Apparently, you can buy a "musubi maker," but George says you can make do fine without. Me, I'm hitting the 7-11 in the morning - early, before they sell out.

Tonight I'm playing Borders in Waikiki, the skyscraper hotel-studded tourist beach of Honlulu. Scott, an audience member from this morning's show, promised to stop by with some fresh starfruit from the overflowing tree in his front yard, so I'm going to have to make sure there's room in my belly for those. Can't bring them back on the plane - there are all of these agricultural restrictions.

I can, however, bring back some sand in my bathing suit; a little itchy, scratchy reminder of my vacation-that-almost-was. ~

Tuesday, October 01, 2002

utah, day forty-seven

(9/30/02) Utah is the Beehive state. A prize will go to the first person who emails me why.

Until New Mexico came into my brain and infatuated me, I was the most excited by Utah of all the states. It's just gorgeous here - and so mysterious, with its odd Mormon roots (and their whole aversion to caffeine and liquor). I met a guy who couldn't go to his own sister's wedding, because she married a Mormon. There's some sadness in that.

The drive through the part of Arizona that connects Nevada to Utah ranks number one on my "Most Beautiful Drives" list for the trip. You wind up (or down) through the twisted, stubbled cliffs and canyons of the Virgin River Gorge, and it makes you feel like a little kid again, for all the neck-craning it pulls out of you. Absolutely took my breath away - and it's my second time through this year!

The Utah show - state number 39 - was in Salt Lake City, at the very progressive "A Cup Of Joe," once a parking garage and still very echoey for it. SLC, UT (which looks a bit like "SLUT," if you glance too quickly), has a surprisingly healthy community of gay men and intelligent studious folk. I don't know that I was consciously expecting everyone to be a button-down cardigan-wearing Mormon sipping fruit juice out of a straw, but I was genuinely and pleasantly surprised to meet people from all walks.

I played a short show, and lingered afterward, chatting up the barista, who seemed to be full of interest in state capitals and odd trivia. Maybe I'm just lonely, after all this time out on the highways that I used to trace dreamily with my highlighter.

One preps and preps for something, and then when the day comes to put planning into motion, there is a little pang of remorse. For what, I don't know... but tomorrow is Idaho, the last state on the list of places I've never been to. (And, I'll have you know, the only state that tried to cancel on me. Seems after the contract was signed and the press was notified, the owner of the Boise bar I'm to play had a panic attack that his Tuesday night crowd might not be able to "dance" to my music. Fear not, the show will go on - and I don't even have to play any Abba tunes!)

It's frigid in Utah as I get ready to sleep. Fall is finally here, with October a few minutes away. The tour is coming to a close, and I'm not so sure I'm ready for it to end. ~

idaho, day forty-eight

(10/1/02) Idahome! There is a town called Idahome. I love this fact.

I'm hitting state number 40 and October in the same day, which somehow feels like an accomplishment all in itself. As though I had control of the calendar.

Will report back on the show tonight, which goes down at 9PM at Tom Grainey's Sporting Pub. I'm not sure whether to expect a backdrop of taxidermy, or movie-size tvs and giant images of football players' asses walking across violently green astro turf - but I am looking to have a good time in Boise. Heidy-ho! ~

Friday, October 04, 2002

oregon, day forty-nine

(10/2/02) I've finally figured it out! My life. And it only took me 49 days, 41 states, and 47 cans of Slim Fast.

Was listening to wisps of NPR on the long, grand drive from Pendleton, Oregon to Portland, Oregon (just a sliver of the trip from Boise to Eugene today), and hear a "Talk of the Nation" on books that influenced your life's path. So I got to thinking... about Nancy Drew, and Julie of the Wolves, and Black Stallion, and Dove... and I thought about the adventures I've always sort of willed upon myself every week since age 9. (You know, like when the issues in your life dry up for a while, and you suddenly find yourself injecting little pieces of drama into your day-to-day, just to have something to chew on?) Anyway, I decided that, while I probably did read myself into some sort of wander-lusty stupor (which obviously translates into this singer-songwriter touring thing), what REALLY sealed my fate was Oregon Trail. The computer game.

I played it most as a fourth grader, in 1987, on those gargantuan beige computers in that tiny little broom-closet-turned "computer lab," in the forgotten elementary wing of Lincoln Akerman School in Hampton Falls, New Hampshire. And as I was driving west today along the Columbia River, Washington state passing me on the right and the velveteen yellow hills winking voluptuously at me through dips and swells of magnificent, earthy cleavage, I realized that, indeed, my life could be traced back to one simple, coveted floppy disk. One pioneering, pre-historic video game.

So there you have it. It was not books for me, but Oregon Trail - the little opportunities to shoot squirrels and deer in Colorado with the little up & down arrows on the keyboard, the agonizing decision in the beginning (to be a farmer or a banker?), and the fabulous, once-in-a-while surprises in the covered wagon... like getting typhoid, or finding enough berries to add 25 pounds of food to your stash. That is what I have to thank for my career as a touring musician.

Last night, Boise was a charming place to play. Rebecca Scott played after, and was such a delight that I want to make sure I register my recommendation that you check out her website. This morning, however, I could not remember where I was. For the life of me, and for the first time on this tour, I was confused by my own mobility.

Tonight, Eugene. I will not be able to stop talking about fourth grade on stage, I just know it. ~

nevada, day fifty

(10/3/02) The silver state! And day five-oh. I've had a superb time in Reno, ladies and gentlemen. Someone actually captured it all on video, so perhaps someday you'll be able to catch snatches of it online... we will see. And everyone here remembers that guy in the Guinness Book of World Records with the longest fingernails, further confirming the universality of that photograph.

I've now listened to Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban twice on this tour. It's time to visit Cracker Barrel. (Did you know they have a books-on-tape return system, nationwide? I found this out on the East Coast sometime last month.)

I've got a bit of time to fritter away, since tomorrow is a "day off." (It's a 14 hour drive to Seattle from Reno, and so I thankfully gave myself two days to get there.)

Think I'm going to head on over to this severely '70's-esque casino, across the street from my hotel. It's called "Circus Circus." Maybe I'll win some money money. ~

Friday, October 11, 2002

washington, day fifty-two

(10/5/02) Ok. Had an amazing day off yesterday - or what I could salvage from it, what with the enormous drive from Reno to Seattle that had to be accomplished by this evening. The day began with a World Championship Chili Cook-Off festival in Reno. I got to walk around a bit in the "Biggest Little City in the World," and sampled some delicious Miner's Chili (full of big, lean chunks of pork) from the vendor outside the Silver Legacy Casino. Hey - I also picked up what might be the coolest (and cheapest) souvenir of the whole tour: a deck of cards used for two hours on the casino floor. One buck! What a deal.

Then I drove endlessly from Reno, over Donner Pass (which is helluva high up in the sky - my empty water bottles started to whine with the drop in air pressure), through Sacramento and up to Redding, CA, where I could not find a movie theater to save my life. I have been dying to see Sweet Home Alabama with the charming Miss Reese Witherspoon since... well, Alabama. But no luck. So I continued on to Ashland, Oregon, where I spent the night after enjoying a nice glass of Rogue Valley Pinot Gris (from the Fortis Winery in Oregon) in the lobby of the historic and newly restored Ashland Springs Hotel. There was a nice fire, leather tables and animal fur poofs, and plenty of stuffed birds for me to scrutinize. This may seem odd, but it was very comforting.

Anyway - the nice day off resulted in me being very nearly NOT on time for my show in Seattle at Mr. Spot's Chai House. The show was kind of a surprise, with folks showing up with all kinds of ties to me - from Madison, from Los Angeles, from Pittsburgh. And the chai there was pretty special - tasted kind of like a ginger snap cookie. You could buy growlers of it to take with you, but I thought it too risky to try to transport such a huge tankard of chai cross-country.

I've got another "day off" tomorrow - will try to make it to Helena in one giant sweep, so that I can rest up for the big drive from Montana to Wyoming. ~

montana, day fifty-four

(10/7/02) I was on the local NBC news! My first tv appearance this year, at KTVH in Helena, Montana. Thanks to Casey, the amazing producer who made it happen... I have no idea whether or not I looked stupid, but I'm keeping an open mind.

In other fun Montana news, I had $1 sushi at the "Wok and Roll" on Euclid. Troy thinks I'm an idiot for tempting fate and eating sushi in land-locked Montana, but who can resist Yellowtail Nigiri for $1?

State number 44 is kind of special to me, because I've always wanted to have a commune here. It's a dream I conceived in college, when first faced with the implausibility of keeping all of my friends in one place for the duration of my life. Also, I once had a friend who moved from New Hampshire to Montana. I think that was the first time I heard of the state's existence, and it has held a mystical place in my brain ever since.

So - Helena is a very friendly and quaint little city. And the capitol! I'm going to have a very impressive list of capitols to add to my lipstick case when this tour is through.

Now it's time to start the trecherous drive to Laramie. Thank god there doesn't appear to be any snow. In fact, the Seattle chocolates that I deliberately bought in Spokane (thinking it was safe to buy meltables in the certainly cool mountain terrain) melted today in the car. (sigh) ~

wyoming, day fifty-five

(10/8/02) The word of the day is "unfettered." Anyone listening to the Senate debates over whether or not to grant Bush total rein in the realm of war declaration (I call this the "please-let-me-declare-war-on-Iraq-without-your-input" resolution) has heard that word upwards on five dozen times today, alone.

If it weren't for the unfettered coverage of the Senate debates - miraculously audible to me throughout the long drive from Helena, MT to Laramie today - I would probably be asleep and/or dead in a ditch on the side of the road. Somehow, the three-to-five minute speeches were just stimulating enough to keep me alert until Casey.

Then I got a flat. That woke me up for good.

Suffice to say that, thanks to Bill from Kansas and his lovely wife (Angie?), I was able to get the damned bolts undone, and the tire swapped for the spare. I barely made it to Laramie - Sweet Melissa's Cafe - ontime for my 6pm show, only to find out that the posters all said 8pm. So I kind of played from 6:15 to 8:30... and had some kickass vegetarian soup and stuff.

The only real disappointment of the day was finding out that Ft. Laramie is about 80 miles north of the city of Laramie. So I didn't get to stop there and relive my wild days as a fourth grader, hunting for food while my covered wagon stopped at the Fort to gather supplies. (More of the Oregon Trail obsession.) ~

iowa, day fifty-six

(10/9/02) I am half dead from the drive today from Laramie. Forgive me if I don't write much... I overslept this morning and lost an hour somewhere in the middle of Nebraska, and there are no more fun Senate debates to harken to in the car. I almost fell asleep about eighty times today. But I am here, in Sioux City, Iowa, for the show in state number 46. Hurrah. I even have time to shower!

My hotel is packed to the gills with aging white men - part of a club called the "Jesters"? They are occupying the entire second floor of the hotel, have purportedly hired strippers for the night, and are going out early tomorrow morning to hunt for pheasant. No one ever said you couldn't have a good time as a 59-year-old white male Iowan. Heigh-ho. ~

nebraska, day fifty-seven

(10/10/02) Caught a glimpse of the Loess Hills in Sioux City on my way down to Lincoln this afternoon; a Loess hill is a rare topographical feature that resembles a large, grassy sand dune. It's a hill made of silt presumably dropped there eons ago by moving glacial entities. Rock climbing is not advisable.

Briar Cliff University is a Catholic Franciscan school, originally founded by nuns who thought the prickly cliff and remote locale would be a righteous place to build an Iowan women's college. I quickly got over my terror at playing such a virtuous-sounding venue, and once folks started abandoning their air hockey pursuits to listen to my show, I actually had quite a good time. This was the last student union show on my tour. It's all bars and coffeehouses from here on out.

Tonight I backtrack to Nebraska, state number 47. I actually drove through Lincoln on my way from Laramie, WY to Sioux City, IA yesterday, and I'll have to drive back up the same route - revisiting Sioux City again - on my way to Fargo tomorrow.

This part of the tour was not planned very well. I feel like a human Etcho-Sketch, whose knobs are being spun this way and that to trace and re-trace a line, a corner, another line...

I wonder, when all is said and done - will my face reflect some sort of meaningful object or pattern? ~

north dakota, day fifty-eight

(10/11/02) I'm all a-flutter with nerves and excitement; I found out yesterday that I'm going to be on All Things Considered, the daily NPR show that literally keeps my eyes in focus while I'm driving during early evening hours. Yay! Listen in, if you can on such short notice - the program airs in the late afternoon on most NPR stations, and though I think I'm going to be on tonight (Friday), I have no clue when. Check out NPR.org for more info, perhaps.

Tonight is my show in the Peace Garden State. That's North Dakota's wacky nickname - just as elusive as the Beehive State. (Incidentally, the best explanation for the latter - Utah - is that their state motto is "industry." And we all know how industrious is the busy beehive.) I love Fargo - though I know not why, exactly. Played there just under a year ago, at North Dakota State U. Nice people... cool weather... plains...

Last night in Nebraska was nice - Lincoln seems very similar to my hometown (Madison) in collegiate and capitol fortitude. Loads of undergrads out in scanty, sequin-spotted gear... good newspapers... good times. I think I've had pizza too many nights in a row, though. I'm starting to dream about leftover crust.

Thanks to the guys who invited me to play pool at the Haymarket Hideaway - I managed to sink the eight ball! On purpose, for a change. ~

A little later on 10/11/02...

OK. I have just experienced a dream come true. I was interviewed for NPR! Maybe it seems very simple and silly, but this is like IT for me. Just shoot me now. I will float away in a little puff of happy joy. Special and eternal thanks to the Public Library of Sioux Falls, South Dakota, for letting me use a spare phone in a quiet office for the call. Nice librarians! They are not so few and far between as we had feared.

Can you believe this tour is almost over? I know - that's rhetorical. I cannot. What am I going to do with my life? Maybe I should think about getting a real job...

At the very least, I should get a haircut. ~

Sunday, October 13, 2002

south dakota, day fifty-nine

(10/12/02) OK. On the way back down this Rt. 29 I've been traversing for the past three days, I see a truckload of odd objects. Are they pigs' feet, or turnips? Still don't have a verdict. Maybe I was hallucinating, but it was certainly more interesting than the average farm equipment and grass I'm used to.

Am heartbroken I didn't get to stop at Laura Ingles Wilder's Home, or the Corn Palace. State number 49, South Dakota, is the Mt. Rushmore state - but it's also home to Wall Drug, Crazy Horse, and the Black Hills. Tonight, I play my second-to-last state and show, at Great Plains Coffee in Sioux Falls (the largest city in South Dakota, and home base for US Senator Tom Daschle). As if that weren't enough to make the day special, I'm also scheduled to give perhaps the most important interview of my life - my dad's high school class is having their 50th reunion tonight, and I'm going to talk to them via speaker phone. :)

Last night in Fargo was wonderful - I just love the northern accent. The gentle "o" sound - as in "O Holy Night," not "Oh, Holy Night" - that presides over all speech up there is kind of like a little hug. The movie, Fargo, doesn't represent how gentle and wholesome that accent really is. Anyway, great audience, great show - and the best article yet in Fargo's Forum, complete with a little USA graphic that showed the cities I played, in order of my tour route! Scroll down at http://new.in-forum.com/entertainment/ ~

minnesota, day sixty

(10/13/02) So - this is the last day of the tour. Am I thrilled? Yes. Am I looking forward to this last show, in Minnesota? You betchya! Do I want champagne in my hotel room afterward? Of course.

Except that it's Sunday, and Minnesota has this 2-3 law (?) that won't let you buy anything stronger than beer or wine coolers on this ONE DAY OF THE WEEK. Now, I guess I should interrupt the story here to shamefully admit that I've gotten a little used to getting what I want on this tour. More accurately, I've had fifty-nine, directly prior days of practice in making the seemingly impossible happen for me. So... I take a gander at the map. I am heading east on Rt. 90 from Sioux Falls to St. Paul today. It's out of the question to backtrack to South Dakota and risk them telling me Korbel can only be purchased on weekdays. So Iowa is my only hope.

And, miraculously, there is an Iowa phone number programmed into my cell phone! I dial up Cup of Joe's in Cedar City, Iowa, and ask "Robert" about the Iowa law on liquor. Would you believe he tells me it's like any other day, that in Iowa, you can buy six cases of Jack Daniels at 9 am in the morning, if you want?

So, blessed with a bit of extra time and a relatively short drive from last night's show to the final destination on my tour route (Ginkgo's on Snelling in Minnesota's capitol city), I dipped down to Spirit Lake, Iowa, grabbed a couple bottles of champagne, and managed to make it to the St. Paul Hotel with enough time to order up a fridge and some extra hand towels.

My post-tour celebration secured, I went through the routine of getting ready for the show - for the last time on the Fifty State Tour!

Most of the audience that showed had heard either the Car Talk where I fretted about my oil, or the All Things Considered interview on Minnesota Public Radio - so they were a jolly, listening bunch. The most I could have asked for, and certainly the best audience with which to close out the Fifty Stater. Thanks especially to Bob Jensen, who really made the last show a smooth affair.

And now... I haven't seen Troy for over four weeks, so you'll excuse me if I sign off. ;) Sure am glad I went the extra forty miles for that bubbley. The tour is over! I'm still alive! Thank you to everyone who has listened, read, emailed, and spoken to me for the past two months. When I eventually get out of bed, I might have some intelligent and pithy observations to share with you - about the overarching themes from the tour, the incredible universalities between states, the metaphor of the earth's landscape - but for right now, I'll just stick with thank you.

p.s. How fun is it that my last three states rhymed? North Dakota, South Dakota, Minnesota - that's my quota! (OK. Time for bed.) ~

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