June 13, 2005

EBONY II: LIGHTHOUSE PILLOWS AND NORWEIGEN WOOD FLOORS

Today my summer almost drastically changed, and for several hours it looked as if I was going accept a job offer as merch girl on a friend's tour, starting today. I normally do not work for anyone but myself, but it's June and the bus has air conditioning and the per diem wasn;t bad, so I was all "fuggggit"...But some logistics thwarted the hatched-plan, aka Allah has willed it that I am not to spend the next few weeks aboard their gleeming tour bus, which is named The Ebony II, and has light wood floors, overstuffed leather couches and embroidered lighthouse n' shell throw pillows (salacious beachfront condo decor is way Steely Dan).

It has been pert near a year since I went on tour, fuh rill fuh rill. The desire to bail (which Challenger tour 04 first conjured) -- the mustbailmustbailmustbail now lingers permanent, like an errant cell burrowed deep, occasionally popping up, reanimating & gliding through the system, wide awake and infecting. Some people like to tour because they can be off the leash of real-life duty, or go off their moral hinges and that 80% of the people you encounter in your tour day, their job is either to tend to you or accomodate you or be your dutiful audience. I gave up hedonism in the 80's, practically, so that's not what it is for me. I think it's just that, even when I was touring as someone's sidepeice, touring as a tag along, touring as a merch helper, touring as Rumplestiltskin on bass -- I felt free in a way that felt equalized. It is hard to give it a real name, but I got to be a free in a way that girls are not afforded, experientially. A lot of people have written about women's liberation through travel, through knowing the world -- ,and that is almost it, but a bit too... Victorian ladies on a cruise ship.

The the road has been so codfied as the domain of dudedom, in books and movies and every record I own from Bob Seger to Chrimpshrine, it is the place of relief and discovery and come-true'd fever dreams and adventure and is the place where the true living is done . In the books and movies and songs where girls and women do this, if they are good, they die from their adventure, if they are bad, they get fucked and die in the end. They are usually white trash truck stop waitresses, or whores, or like - single moms and teen sluts who have had enough of the bad life and get killed by their own curiousity. They tryst with macho domain, and they wind up going off a cliff or in a ditch or their sternum crushed against the steering wheel.

Touring when and how I did, even in it's stasisized moments, during the most sweltering and belitting and most boring dividing line hynotized fuck this moments in vans and busses, I still relished being free and getting in on some me-too actualization. I was able to stop buying everything I had ever been sold - by every bit of counterculture iconography -- Two Lane BlackTop or the fact that there is not a single woman with a speaking part in that precious Kerouac biblio On The Road -- and steal the orbit. So, the month plus wait til the reading tour is touch purgatorial.

Back to Chicago tomorrow. Tonight, I took my mom to the show, as a "share my world" style outting, and also as my friends wanted to meet the lady who made me. After their introduction, they are engaging in some typical har-har niceties, my mom, as usual, says "Even though she's rotten, I still love her" and my friend says "Oh, we love her too, even though she keeps insisting she has no use for our love" and my mother, right then, instantly reminded me where I got my knack for embarrassing people with casual, oblivious aplumb, says "Nope, she doesn't, though if you have chaos and dysfunction, she'll totally take those." I felt a deep, seventh grade style embarrassment, I was like "Mom,where are you getting this information - are you reading my therapists blog!?" -- I forget, my mjom, she is such a "cool mom" that I sometimes want to show her off, but I completely blank, she is just like... a blonde, mouthier version of me and thusly, she the OG little trouble girl and should be contained at all times.

ALSO, in sweet news: The Al Burian & Me Reading Tour has new confirms: Eff You Clevo and yr non-commitment: Pittsburgh is where we are at July 16th, reading with some Heartattack columnists, for some real punx-on-punx lit-bang. THEN - Philly, R5 says we're reading at Molly's - the bookstore - July 17th. Single moms and fem-crusties and Dan Yemin - yelp back.

Posted by Jessica at June 13, 2005 12:08 AM | TrackBack