[i]
DREAM: There’s an argument between Zach and Dave about a particular event from a past tour. According to my memory, this took place at a show Mae played right after we came back from Indonesia. My conscious is aware that I am sleeping, so I can’t wake up to tell Zach and Dave this. I trick myself into thinking I already tried to explain this to them but they can’t hear me. Flashbacks to a made-up memory of our show somewhere in the northwest of America – on the side of a mountain – picnic tables – eating and hanging out with fans. ☼☼☼☼☼ Riding in the backseat of a car with the guys. We’re in Knoxville. I hear Dave and Zach discussing directions. The car is a convertible now. We start driving down this long narrow road – orange and pink sky – the sun has just risen. A colossal machine ahead of us that looks like Evil Emperor Zurg from Toy Story with big robotic arms attached with laser guns and a fat stationary body. “Watch out, Zach!” We pass by it. One of the gun arms aims at us, then shoots, but nothing hits us. Our car begins to fly around like a helicopter. These weird floating black metal things in the form of faces, similar to the Easter Island statues, start chasing after us. We’re flying higher up now. The metal face statues get distracted with some light facade that appears on the ground. Zach puts on “M79” by Vampire Weekend on the stereo. Zach: “This is the only song I like of them.” Half asleep, I realize Dave and Zach were having waking life conversations that intertwined with my dreams.
Waking up at the hotel in Knoxville, Tennessee.
Breakfast: Cliff Bar (Blueberry Crisp). Mango Oolong Tea.
At the stadium – sound checking.
Playing the keyboard, discovering new melodies, Pogge
playing along with the bass.
Waiting…waiting…waiting. Reading Adbusters Magazine.
Fancy O'dourves for dinner.
Sitting in the stadium hall with over 15,00 young and
innocent blood all gathered for Destination:
Imagination. Teams from different states and countries march out in various
colors. Beach balls are being thrown everywhere. “Life is a Highway” by Tom
Cochrane rocking out of the sound system. I see you standing there in your grey
“video crew” shirt, black shorts, and sneakers, holding your clipboard. Your
friend points in my direction and whispers something. Earlier, in the media
room, I was playing guitar and I felt relaxed. You walked in and I lost focus.
I knew you felt me watching. You caught my stare. I smiled so big and even
snickered a little as if this was some sort of comedic moment.
Time to hop on stage and play “Anything”, then retreat to
watch a ring of pyrotechnic fire fall on our instruments.
Back in the media room, waiting to leave. Guillem is playing
guitar and I, singing pseudo Spanish melodies. There’s a good mood in the air.
Sitting across from us, you smile. But I just can’t seem to crack one word to
you. It’s like jumping into a pool you know is going to be cold and I just
don’t have the balls to do it. This is probably for the better anyway. But how
can I control what you cause me to feel?
Back at the hotel. Playing guitar in the stairwell.
Snacking on some Salt n Vinegar Chips and Dry Roasted
Edamame, Coffee.
Watching a documentary about urban exploring called Urban
Explorers.
Catching up with a friend.
Shopping online for external hard drives.
Hot shower.
Pogge and Guillem walk in the hotel room drunk.
Kiwi.
I grab my long board and dosome of my own urban exploring.
It’s 3 a.m. The city of Knoxville is a ghost town and
becomes a long boarder’s heaven. Riding down some of the steepest and most
riveting streets I’ve ever ridden.
I come across an inebriated guy about my age carrying a gas
can. His truck ran out of gas. As we’re talking about the steep slope in front
of us, he keeps repeating to me, “I bomb that shit…I bomb that shit!” He wants
to take it for a run but he’s toppling over like a drooping flower. I fear for
his life if he were to even attempt that hill, so I inform him I must be going.
Onward into the alluring and ghostly night. I make it to the
river and discover a quaint abandoned apartment complex. There’s a big hole in
the corner of the building where a bathtub sits. I make my way in only to find
a homeless person snoring in the next room over. I respect his territory and
leave. Creeping around to the other side, I’m able to walk up an iron staircase
all the way to the top story. Crawling in through an unlocked window. Only a
refrigerator and empty rooms. The street lights glowing in through the glass
giving it an eerie and sexy mood. The emptiness – the aloneness – the deadness.
It was spontaneous and totally out of the ordinary for me to relieve myself on
that dusty white and crooked floor. However, it was also something I had to do
– a beautiful moment I could not resist – my seed planted into the old wood of
this cracked out building by the river.
Sleep around 6:30 a.m.
My traveling friend Guillem wrote a journal entry about this day also that was eventually published. Check out his perspective.
My traveling friend Guillem wrote a journal entry about this day also that was eventually published. Check out his perspective.
[i] Photo by me.
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