Washington, DC, Black Cat
Staying at Chris Young's just outside of Washington DC. We spent the early part of the day shopping in Georgetown and just monkeying around. People here are friendly. I walked into a bar where Andy and James were drinking shots in the early afternoon and they were being chatted up by a friendly young world-travelling drunk Washingtonian who knew the lead singer in Edna Swap. We played in New Jersey with Edna Swap, they were horrible. Apparently the lead singer gave up a promising career in medicine to pursue a dead-end career in a horrible band. I mean, not that I should talk, since my career in music ain't exactly a super highway, but oh Edna Swap was just terrible, terrible.

So we shopped for a while, then we went to the movies. Ooh, I am so uninspired these days! What I think about most now is getting home. We've got six days to go and I'm at a point where it gets to be 8:00 and I think, well, soon we'll play, and then we'll be through, and then we'll go away and sleep, and when I wake up, well that's one more day closer to being home. Isn't that crazy? I mean, three weeks is not a long time, but I tell you it's as much as I can handle. Years ago we'd go out for months at a time but those days are over, over, over.

The DC show went over pretty well. We were overpoweringly loud in the small space set aside for us in the big Black Cat club, but the quieter songs, I think, were tolerable. Dianogah was very enjoyable and seemed to me more appropriate for the intimate, dinner theatrey setting. The crowd thought so too, and about twenty bruised boys and girls lunged for the door as soon as Garden City Blues started to kick in. I was thinking it would be nice if we were a multi-talented band who could whip out the mandolins and washboards in situations like this, but we're a one-trick pony. All we can do is rock rock rock. I felt sorry for the kids tonight but what can you do?

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