Near Utah – “California, Here We Come” – March 15, 1999

Last night, I packed and repacked an assortment of stage and street clothes in an embarrassingly large bag that clenched its zipper when I tried to cram one last unnecessarily jumbo-sized multi-vitamin bottle into its mouth. I couldn’t sleep. I was too wound up. I unfurled Chris’ map and read the highlit, yellow lines which looked like a constellation connecting Colorado to California to Oregon to Washington. I studied the highways like a gypsy looking for the future in the palm of a hand. 

‘Califonia, here we come!’ I thought.

Over caffeinated at 10 am I felt giddy about escaping the confines of Colorado. I galloped down the path in my well-worn travelin’ overalls to greet the boys when they landed on my lawn.  After loading Moby (the way Delluchi taught us) we smashed as many boxes of Tomboy Bride as we could fit under our seats, threw a red Igloo cooler stocked with sandwich fixings between the driver and shotgun, and took some photos to commemorate the occasion before setting out on the road.

Later….

We’re 7 hours into our 17-hour drive to San Diego.  There, we’ll play a spot called “The Casbah.”  Bananas roast on the dashboard and perfume the air.  Galactic is on the stereo playing funk in vain to our funkless reclined bodies.  Various empty coffee containers strune on the floor roll lazily with each turn. 

Tunnel, light, tunnel, corner, grab for loose soda cans, tunnel, tunnel, repeat.

1/2 the band is asleep. I feel so grateful to have Nisa along with me in this sea of boys.   She looks adorable all snuggled up next to Kenny in the back.  Those of us who’ve not been lullabied to sleep by the highway, are in separate worlds. We’re looking out the window, imagining our loved ones missing or not missing us. We’re planning our futures and re-inventing our pasts.

Zone, zone, zone.  Bare feet up on the cooler. Truck stop.  Gas stop.  Rest stop.  Repeat.  

I’m knitting. I know it’s silly but it’s how I meditate out here, in the middle of nowhere. I’m making a red sweater without a pattern.

Overalls.  Old T-shirts. Mismatched socks.  Neck pillows.  Ripped maps.  Coffee stains.  Laughter.  Repeat.

This part of the country looks like the moon.