I may have waited too long to start this one. Without a day off the dates blur together and there's not a lot of time down. But here we are, in Salt Lake City, and what I remember most about Chicago, to Des Moines, to Omaha, to Wichita is all the corn and all the fog. All the corn is dead. In California on the 5 they blame the democrats for the dust bowl with signs along the highway. Something having to do with plants vs. fish. Out here I think it's just not the season, but at Thanksgiving people have those multi-colored corns to help with the decor. There's nothing having to do with politics spackled by the roadsides on the way to these mid-western towns. Global warming, maybe. Would explain how there's nothing political to point the finger. And the fog was dense. Enormous obscured wind turbines churned the moisture around them like a dinosaur lumbering through the mist. Somewhere, out there, lay Des Moines, Omaha, and Wichita.
Des Moines was the local crowd at the historic Hull Ave Tavern. Regular Saturday nighters were in attendance. That's fine. We gave them the lizzy song and they danced their asses off. Spent the night at some sweethearts' house and had a breakfast.
Omaha. The Manor. Punk house. Looked like a squat but they had an XBOX. There wasn't one bird in the house cuz Cursive was having their welcome back or get the fuck out reunion/goodbye show. Boys night out. It rocked. Hit them up if you have to go to Omaha.
Witchita. Kirby's Beer Store. Kirby is a sweet dude with lots of Rolling Rocks. Place filled up nicely. We played with some Australian kids on tour for 3 months. And a good stoner rock band called Arbogast. We had a blast here as well, and can't wait to be back. Of course, next time, we have to be back at a better venue with better promotion, blah blah blah, thank you very much. You hear that, Seattle? People like us.