East Coast Shenanigans

Sorry it's been so long in writing; the last several days have been a nonstop barrage of music, gigs and travel. Not counting all of the impromptu jams with different musicians, or sitting in with other groups' sets, with the Yellow Hat Band I've played seventeen shows in seven cities in four states in ten days. It's funny to say, but three months of biking doesn't even come close to a week and a half of touring, in terms of the toll that it's taken on my body; in contrast to the ten or more hours of sleep I was getting each night on the road, I've averaged less than five since arriving in Boston; after a summer's worth of nary a health problem to speak of, I got sick as a dog from too little sleep, too much drinking, and too much sharing of food and water with other people in the exact same boat as me.

The variety of venues we've played in has been astounding: we did a workshop with a high school band in south Boston; we've played at several different bars in Providence, Northampton, Manhattan, Brooklyn and elsewhere; we took part in a multi-band performance art piece that toured Manhattan on the top of a double-decker tour bus in pajamas; a scenic ferry ride to Staten Island; a bowling alley in New Jersey; paraded around the Amherst campus; spontaneously crashed into subways and bars, horns blazing, to duck out as quickly as we appeared.

Playing on top of a tour bus in Manhattan.

And it's finally over now. Tonight was the last show, the celebratory dinner for the successful completion of Honk!, Pronk, Bronk, Bonk, and any other -onk that people cared to tack on to an already gratuitous list of music festivals. Tears were shed, toasts were made, Italians were hugged, but it's time for the bands to start heading their separate ways, at least til next April.


The last ten days has worn me out beyond all reason, and I know beyond any doubt that I'm not going to continue riding on from here. I never intended to have any milestones or goals along the way (except to get to Honk), but after more than a week on the east coast, I finally got to see the Atlantic Ocean last night. Walking along the New Jersey coast in a raging storm at 3am, salty spray and foam tumbling over me, the wind tearing away my warmth, I looked out into the black waters, and found a sense of completion and finality that I wasn't looking for, but that filled me with certitude, nonetheless. It's time to go home.

So! I'm catching a ride to Chicago with a person from Rude Mechanical Orchestra, and then figuring out my way west from there. I'm pretty romantically attached to the idea of traveling by train, so it'll still be a while til I get there, but look out, West Coast! Here I come!