I suppose given the community I run
with, it shouldn't be surprising how often I encountered these little
coincidences on this tour, but it's always still a little surprising.
Starting with the Kowabunga! Kid micro-tour, the
micro-tour-that-wasn't with All Over The Place, the run-in with
Catherine Feeny, and now another totally coincidental micro-tour with
The Michael Character (which people keep calling The Michael Project
for some reason). This is Pen Pen and some cassettes, which are
totally back.
Despite the number of mutual friends,
it's surprising Jimmy Ikeda (The Michael Character's (not Project)
lead singer) and I haven't crossed paths before. But anyone that Greg
McKillop considers a friend is probably a good person. I get to the
venue in Phoenix and we immediately hit it off. He's been traveling
more or less the same route as I, just a few days ahead. Where my
single person and a stuffed penguin in a PT Cruiser has felt cramped
over 8000 miles, he's been in a full band in a Honda Accord. I'm not
totally sure how they fit everything in there, so I'm assuming it's
actually a TARDIS. This is Pen Pen and some zines, which are also
back.
It's good to see Sam again, and our
planned Bradley Manning argument is far less heated than I'd
expected. It lasts a good minute or two. It was pretty
anti-climactic. He makes a few valid points I hadn't considered about
Bradley not redacting names when he leaked info, which is a fair
concern. But I wont be withdrawing my nomination for Bradley for
radical sainthood any time soon. It's tough to leave Arizona so soon.
I barely spent 16 hours there, but the drive to Albuquerque is long,
so I get up at the crack of 9ish the next morning and hit the road.
This is Pen Pen meep meep.
Reactivi had suggested I stop by
Arcosanti after I'd complained on Twitter about the lack of
tumbleweeds (or road runners. Or coyotes. Or ACME supply stores. What
the hell Arizona? Why are you ruining my childhood?)... I didn't
have as much time as I'd like to explore, but I wandered around a bit
until the unmistakeable sound of a rattlesnake reminded me that I'm
wandering around in the desert alone, and despite my Klingon
upbringing, today is not a
good day to die. This is Pen Pen reasonably certain the Arcosanti
people don't know what urban means.
I make
it to the show a few minutes after The Michael Character Project and
am greeted by what's become an unfamiliar sight after the past week
of fun but sparsely attended shows. People. Lots and lots of people.
More people than can fit in the room. A plethora of people. Poet
after poet gets up to read, then The Michael Charaject then me. Then
more poets. One of whom lives actually kind of near me in Brooklyn
and is in Albuquerque for the summer. He reads 2 chapters of Stephen
Malkmus / Steve Albini slash fiction. It is sheer genius. I literally
tear up with joy. I don't even. It's basically everything that I want
to exist in the universe. We can all stop this art charade, people.
Creativity has reached its peak. Everything we do from now on is
bullshit. This is Pen Pen and a genuine autographed James Ikeda rock (not notarized).
The
mobile zine distro is decimated by the folks at the show. They
apologize, but that's what they're here for. I figure if I return to
Brooklyn zine-less then my mission is a success. There are other
ways, I suppose, to measure the success of a tour. But that seems
like as arbitrary a metric as any. The Michael Project and I head
back to a hotel. We watch Louis CK stand up and pass out. Wait, that
sentence is confusing. Imagine if you will, Louis CK standing up and
then just suddenly passing out. That's not what happened. We watched
him perform a stand-up comedy routine on TV, then we all pass out.
Subtle differences. Keeping in mind that this tour began with what
remains one of the best days of my entire life, this is a pretty damn
near close second. These nights, where everyone is earnestly engaged.
Where all the performers support each other. Where conversations are
had, and genuine friendships are made. These are why I tour. This is
Pen Pen at a cheap hotel in Albuquerque which is most likely a front
for Heizenberg's current meth manufacturing operation.
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