We start heading back inland and although it's quite a struggle giving up the beautiful energy of the coastline we are psyched to see our old friend, Scott, in Modesto, CA. With nothing to do for a day or two as we wait for our friend to finish up some work, we find an open mic at a cozy little bar nestled into the perfectly gridded landscape of almonds and winegrapes in a strip mall area that was a perfect place to hang for the night. And by perfect I mean there was a bar, a discount grocery store, a delicious Mexican Restaurant, a Glaceau water dispenser AND a real thrift store, at which I purchased 7 articles of clothing for 10 dollars. That, my friends, is what a thrift is supposed to be like.
"The Cow Track" bar was full of eager musicians hoping to share a song or two, but the man running the show couldn't make it and nobody was really sure what to do. Capitalizing on the situation we offered to set up our gear in return for some beer and in turn saved the show. We met some really nice people and got a show out of the deal! We were set to play there Saturday night!
By the next day Scott was able to hang out so we head into the town of Modesto and spent the next couple of days, well drinking. There seems to be a running theme here? . Jeez. I gotta start writing about all the days inbetween these stories where we are doing yoga and booking gigs in our RV so we don't look like lushes, but that doesn't sound too exciting so I'll just get back to the story.
Scott is a fun guy. The type of person that makes you laugh so hard your sides are hurting the next morning. We had a nice time catching up. He gave us a painting that he called "The Trumpets of Tonavich". I dont' know what that means, but it was funny. I guess you had to be there.
The second night in Modesto we went to watch Scott's friend's band: Greg Scudder and the Beer Thirty, whom we had actually met in Nashville some few years ago when we all lived there at the same time. We did some dancing to their nice country tunes. And since no evening is complete without a visit to another place, we went to "the Other Place" which was an interesting place to be, but not one in which we were extremely welcome. So we taxied home with an Iraqi man with whom I had a wonderful discussion about Turkey and Islam. Thankfully we were all experienced drinkers and nobody was a puker (note the fee).
Saturday, March 8th, in Oaksdale CA, we finally played another show at the Cowtrack. It felt like a millenia since the last time we played although realistically it had been a week and one day. The show went well, we sold some stuff, made some contacts and were happy to just be sharing our music with a new crowd. We hit the sack early since we'd had a late night last night and had to be up early tomorrow to play at Sequoia Brewing in Fresno.
In Sequoia there seemed to be more talking than playing. We played, and people listened, but we also had a lot of interrupters who just wanted to ask us this or that, or perhaps wanted to tell us a story. Just as well. Sometimes it's nice to rest the vocal chords and listen to someone else's story. There was the groovin' Native man who insisted that we when we get to New Mexico " go find "Rolldy" and do the Peyote, to take your music to the next level" and he bought us beer before he left. Then there was the balding, overweight middle aged white man who was sad. His wife had left him after he'd worked so hard to make her happy. He paid prostitutes just to be held. He said he felt comfortable telling us this. He was lonely. Deep, dark and lonely and maybe just needed to hear that he was good. But I lost him in the crowd before I had a chance to tell him, which I regret. The Mexican dentist with the long, dark hair and laughing moustache, he by far was the most enlightening for my personal growth. He was happy and it was contagious. His very being was a lesson. And I left with a smile on my face knowing that I could do anything, but I should always be happy.
That night I drove the RV for the first time because Daniel had a few too many. In his defense people kept buying them for him, and Daniel has never been one to say no to a beer.
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