Adventure #100: Belchertown, MA and New York, NY

I'm not a superstitious person. I don't think that the position of the stars when you're born have anything to do with who you are as a person. My quasi-observant Jew-hood has more to do with respect for tradition and the comfort and sense of place I find in ancient customs than any faith in a divine whatever. But I do believe in the serendipity of the radio. As I pulled out of the house in Brewster, the radio was playing Tupac – Changes. I took it as a sign from the tree peeper I befriended the other day and named Treefrog Shakur (my childhood pet frog was named Biggie. I'm a fan of themed names...) that this was going to be a good tour. This is Treefrog Shakur being fucking adorable.

The last few months in Brewster with Marisa and Jack have been probably the longest period in my adult life that I've gone without either having to pack my suitcase and leave the state for a project or suffering some terrifying medical crisis. It's been a period of some stress and upheaval, sure, but also one of relative stability. Daily routines and habits. My life has changed in such huge ways since my last tour. Suddenly I'm part of a family. I'm charged with being an example for an impressionable tiny person. I don't really know what I'm doing, but I'm trying my damndest to do it well. This is the first time leaving for tour hasn't been a relief. This is the first time I've ever been homesick on the drive to my first show. And I have a beard. I should have led with that. I have a beard now. I'm undecided about it. This is Pen Pen with a beard.

I got to the venue and discovered that my tiny trusty netbook had finally kicked the bucket. So much for good omens. Treefrog Shakur works in mysterious ways. But seeing as my good laptop was dead for 24 hours earlier in the week before inexplicably rising again like the hologram of a beloved performer, I'm not worried. Plus, there's not really anything I can do about it from the road. The show was a lot of fun, and I guess was only the second show they've done in their space. I haven't performed a full set in a while. And I've never performed with a beard. The crowd indulged me as I fumbled my way through a few new songs. I'm hoping to test out a lot of the material for my new album on the road before I finish recording it. So far, so beardy. This is Pen Pen: Time Detective.

My Brooklyn show was canceled last week after the space got noise complaints, and I decided that instead of scrambling to find a half-assed show that I wouldn't have time to promote, I'd just spend time with my friends. Besides, I had a few meetings and rehearsals that I needed to make. I'd hoped to make it to New York in time for court support for Cecily McMillan, but traffic rules us all (radio update: Looking Glass – Brandy, and Notorious BIG – Mo Money Mo Problems). I didn't know Cecily McMillan well. As far as I can recall we'd only ever really spoken once. But I witnessed her assault on March 17^th 2012, just moments after I'd been beaten myself by the NYPD. I pulled into the city just in time for the guilty verdict to be announced. How any twelve members of the human race could find her guilty is beyond me. The Puppet Guild met in Zuccotti instead of our usual Monday in the Secret Puppet Lair. I showed up and was immediately put to work making signs and cards. It was wonderful to see so many people in the park. It's been far too long since I've sat in Zuccotti Park with a Sharpie mass producing signs for a demonstration. The crowd was lively, mostly respectful, and tried their best to be constructive. An assembly was held in which we brainstormed ways to continue to support Cecily and hopefully influence her sentencing. We all laughed as we dusted off the old OWS process. Do we need to mic check? There's only like a hundred and twenty people here. I don't miss New York. I've been gone for 3 months, and I don't really miss it. I miss my family far more after just a day apart. But I do miss this stupid awful park and the amazing conversations it inspires. This is Pen Pen demanding #Justice4Cecily.

This isn't a song I wrote. This is the greatest song in the history of music.

Adventure #99: Jackson, MI

The big problem with Superman as a character is that he's basically perfect. The only way to create any dramatic tension whatsoever is to incapacitate him in some way; hence the proliferation of every possible kind of Kryptonite magically showing up all the time on Earth, despite the general improbability of any showing up here due to the size of the universe, let alone so many chunks. I like a fair fight. Maybe that's why I'm such a sucker for those places where the constant battle between humanity and nature actually feels matched. Abandoned buildings are the manifestation of nature coming up from behind. Bridges and tunnels those places where we've conquered nature but only just barely. One massive storm and nature could still win this one. So after a few days in the ruins of former industrial centers, I needed a little nature. This is Mario and a bridge (not pictured: Birdo.)

About 20 minutes south of Flint, maybe an hour east of Jackson, I came across a state park. Trees. Lakes. Hiking. This would probably be my last chance to experience nature until the spring (or at least until I tour the South again...). This is Mario taking only pictures, leaving only footprints, and the discarded turtle shells of a million Koopas (truly, Mario is history's greatest monster.)

It was overcast as all hell, and a little chilly (still no jacket), but the 2 hour hike around the lake did my soul (and probably lungs) good. I sat for a minute on the edge of the lake reading William Gibson; maybe the least pastoral possible reading choice, but whatever; books don't just grow on trees. The paper does. But. Then industry happens. Anyway. By the time I got to Bird Alley, it was dark. Anthony and I sat around watching terrible 80's movies on VHS while we waited for the other acts to show up. Foragers for the discarded remains of our own culture. Are we America's termites or it's vultures? This is Mario and the last display of breathtaking natural beauty for a little while.

This is a song I wrote one time. You should download it and share with your friends.

Adventure #98: Detroit, MI

In the 2 months since I last visited Detroit, a book has started to take shape in my brain. A collection of interviews, old articles, photos, song lyrics, and letters documenting the stories from the neighborhoods that are vanishing. Primary sources presented with little commentary. Detroit is in a period of change. What it's changing into is up to debate, but as the warehouses and factories and houses continue to be razed one by one, the history of it's neighborhoods threaten to be buried over in grass themselves. This is Mario posing for a very sad, yet optimistic postcard.

I headed out from Justin's a little later than I'd hoped. Drinking till 4 am will do that to you. Who knew? I went down to the neighborhood on the east side that I'd explored last time. 2 short months had already taken their toll. One of the houses I'd come across—an experiment in off-the-grid sustainable living it seemed—had it's garden overgrown; it's rain collection cisterns gone. Was this a failed experiment or merely preparation for the winter? This is Mario and the ravages of time and neglect.

The air felt like winter had come early as I wandered around. A woman came up to me. “I'm 5 months pregnant, and just need to get something to eat. Do you have a dollar?” “Sure,” I said. “Can I interview you in exchange for 5?” We talked for a few minutes. I realized that if this is really for a book, I'm going to need legal releases and all that stuff. But I was utterly unprepared for the look of gratitude at being asked to tell her story. As she talked, her face lit up. She was talking about her friends and relatives that had died in fires—started by Detroit police, she said—but she was beaming. I'm realizing I have a lot of prep work to do to make this book happen, but I'm also realizing that it might be more necessary for the interview subjects than it is for me. It's going to be a huge undertaking, and probably will take a year or more, but it's something that I think I have to do. This is Mario and the future of dentistry.

Around 5:30 the sun was starting to set, and it was getting a little too cold to wander around without a jacket. I still don't have a jacket. Don't judge me. As I got in my car to head up to Saginaw, I got a text from Alex. “You still in the D?” I turned around and headed over her house for tea and catching up. “Detroit is the Wild West,” she said. “Anything is possible.” She had just moved back home a few weeks ago from Brooklyn and is determined to be a part of the rebirth of Detroit. Before I hit the road, she loaded me up with a bounty of home made kettle corn and Vernor's ginger ale, which is apparently the Moxie of Detroit. This is Mario feasting on the best Detroit has to offer (other than Alex's hot sauce, of course.)

This is a song I wrote one time. You should download it and share it with your friends.

Adventure #97: Wyandotte, MI

A few years ago I called Rosy from the road. In a manifestation of her permanent state of exasperation with me, she declared “I just don't know how to talk to you when you're on tour. It's always either the best night of your life or the worst and I don't know how to talk to you.” And I had no response, because it's true. Driving 6 hours, singing your heart out for an hour, (not to mention the hours of booking, planning, and promoting that go into every single show) and then being greeted with stunning indifference is devastating. But then the opposite-doing all that and seeing people sing along with your songs; connecting on a very real and personal level-there is nothing better. Those are the nights like last night in Wyandotte that remind you why you do this at all. This is Mario doing this at all.

As I stepped up to the mic, The Rockery was suddenly swarmed with a gaggle of ska kids (specifically of the CBJ variety) and I couldn't have been happier. It's funny how after only playing one show together this summer, I've come to consider Mike and Mark and the gang good friends. But this is a world that breeds fast friendships and faster rivalries, I suppose. Then an hour talking with Marc Blur about the different varieties of anarchism and revolutionary politics, interspersed with memories of what Detroit used to be. Then what seemed like an hour, but turned out to be 3 talking art and sincerity with Justin, the manager of the Rockery, and Jon-Mikal of The Idiot Kids. It was a conversation that I think all three of us needed pretty badly. This is Mario talking realness with noted 80's video game icon, E.T.

Touring can be a lot of things to a lot of people. I guess to most it's a way to become successful. But as I continue to get older and continually redefine “success,” the pretensions of being a famous musician have faded away leaving only the joy of being able to share my art with people who wouldn't have otherwise heard it, excitement for adventure, and gratitude for the unexpected and unexpectedly meaningful conversations at 4 AM; long after the bar has closed. As long as I can continue to do that, I will continue to be the most successful damn musician on the planet. This is Mario defining success by having all the pickles in the world!

This is Jawbreaker's tour song because it sums up all the contradictions about as well as anything.

Adventure #96: Rochester, NY

About 30 minutes out of Brooklyn I started going through my mental checklist. Guitars? Check. Newly pressed copies of A Life In Transit? Check. A vintage suitcase full of anti-capitalist zines? Check. Jacket? Uh. Well it's been unseasonably warm. I'll be OK without a jacket. Sleeping bag? Check. Multiple kinds of pickles? Check. Pen Pen? Oh crap. Maybe I should turn around. The jacket was one thing. But going on tour without my travel penguin? We're doomed. But never one to be discouraged by the slings and arrows of outrageous forgetfulness, I remembered that among the many totems of my perpetual travel is a tiny stuffed Mario. I don't remember where he came from. Only that he's been in my backpack at least since January 2008. This is Mario being selected for this journey.

I got to the Meddlesome Lab about an hour after Seth asked me to show up, but the opening act hadn't gotten there yet either, so everything was fine. We are not responsible adults. None of us. In fitting with the game of “One Degree of Greg McKillop” that is my life, Maya, who was doing merch for Wood Spider plays in Speaker for the Dead. Because obviously. It would honestly be weirder if there wasn't someone at the show who didn't play in Speaker. This is Mario and a Gnome who may or may not play in Speaker for the Dead.

The show was a pretty great start to this final leg of my tour. I've been coming to Rochester periodically because there's been this legend of the Great Rochester House Shows. I've never actually experienced one. Usually it's been Mediocre But Well-Intentioned Bug Jar Shows. Seth kept apologizing “usually there's more like 50 people at these things...” I don't know where you'd fit them. Everyone fit that rare spot in the Venn Diagram of both being great musicians and great people, and the reality is as I begin this final stretch of shows before I cross the boundary of Don't Trust Anyone Over 30, it was incredibly encouraging to perform with artists older than me who are still touring, still playing and organizing DIY shows, still staying true to their ideals. Maybe growing up punk is possible. And then, immediately after performing, I got the text from my dad: my sister went into labor, and I have a new niece. Life can be pretty great sometimes. This is Mario with teeth.

This is the theme music to Mario 2. It's 10 hours long and seemed like the appropriate choice.

Adventure #95: Richmond, VA and Johnson City, TN

Part of me had hoped that the government shutdown might at least make it so there'd be no traffic getting through DC. That part of me was wrong. Very very wrong. Late again to the first show of the tour! Thanks, Obama... But the show ended up being pretty fun. Jamie came out, as did a bunch of the owner's friends. It turns out they all work for the federal government and were furloughed. This shouldn't surprise me, as my life is a swirling vortex of coincidence. Here's Pen Pen and one of my good friends' CDs just happening to be on the TV of the collective I stayed at, despite him having never been there, coincidentally.

Wednesday, I made good time at first through the Blue Ridge Mountains. I didn't need to be at Acoustic Coffee until 7pm, really. I had tons of time! So I pulled off the highway following the siren song of signs for a national park. Part of me (the part that was driving) wasn't thinking at all about anything in the previous paragraph that might lead me to believe this was a pointless endeavor. It was a pointless endeavor. This is Pen Pen and futility.

I'd burned an hour in pursuit of happiness, but still: TONS OF TIME! The federal government may be shutdown, there may be a battle over whether having access to healthcare and thus remaining alive is a right or a privilege, but at least I'll get to see my friends in Johnson City! I took a detour through the Blue Ridge Highway. Stopping in the unfortunately named town of Vesuvius, I walked into a Gertie's Country Store. Unsurprisingly, the conversation hovered around the Government Shutdown. “Someone ought to start a revolution!” The woman I presume was Gertie said. “Funny thing about that...” I said. She gave me her contact info and told me to let her know when we march on Washington. She said she didn't care if it was right or left, she'd be there. My kind of person. This is Pen Pen and the preposterous beauty of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

But then: traffic. (Thanks again, Obama...I'm not sure how this one is your fault. But Ted Cruz knows...) 2 hours of not moving. Finally liberated from the traffic, I made it to the Coffeehouse 45 minutes late, and more than a little cranky. But as is often the case, the general air of comeradery and warmth of Johnson City made it impossible to be cranky for too long. The band after me, There Is No Mountain were incredibly nice, and it turns out lived in Boston for a while. I tire of coincidences. (No I don't.) Then, halfway through my set: Karla. In the middle of a song I looked out the window to see a tuft of bobbing blond curls and a mandolin case walking up. She walked right on stage and jumped in the middle of the stage. Sheer musical joy. There could have been 10 people or 10,000 people watching at that point. I really didn't care. We stayed up late catching up. While I told her about Marisa “Black Bird” came on. Because obviously the first song I played for her when we were 14 would haunt me thus. I'll never tire of coincidences. This is Pen Pen hopping a train out of Johnson City, but anxious to come back.

This is a song I wrote one time. You should download it and share with your friends.

Adventure #94: Indianapolis, Indiana

Here are some things that happened:

1. I drove to Indianapolis
2. Crystal Wolf gave me a new hat
3. I got to play another show with The Michael Character
4. Jackfruit became a verb
5. All my friends jumped on stage with me to sing my last 2 songs and it was amazing
6. This guy Cory (who I'd never met before) and I dyed each others' mohawks blue.
7. I finally made good on my threat to get a Piradical tattoo (thanks Andrew)

Here are some things that didn't happen:

1. Nothing. Everything is happening all the time according to String Theory.

This is Pen Pen with a new hat.

This is a song I wrote one time. You should download it and share with your friends.